#tc-lrau

[thatcheeseycandle]

T2024, Day 1: Dawn | TC-LRAU

Hours would've passed by now, seeing the sun would be rising on the horizon and flocks of birds would be flying through the sky. It was a peaceful day today.

It was the morning after such a celebration had happened last night, and the engine of the hour last night would start to be awaken to his shed door creaking as it opened, yawning as he opened his eyes to see who it was.

Four people, entering the shed, huh. That's five less people from last night. Eyeing the four people, he'd try to recall the basic things he might know about them.

Lloyd, the one who christened him with a name, well more like a name that was easier to recall rather than his already given name.

Then there were two other people he couldn't recognise, a fit ginger that seemed related to Emrys and a brunette with salt and pepper hair. But speaking of Emrys, he'd light up as he spotted him among the four of them in the corner.

Emrys would notice this as he smiled back at-

“Stephen, a good day to you, young Rocket,” he greets him as he steps on his foot plate, examining his controls and firebox door, while the other three start checking over his boiler and collect their tools.

But Stephen on the other hand, he'd glance outside the skylight above him, observing the clouds slowly move and form themselves into different shapes, though it wasn't as mystifying as the night sky it was still indeed a lovely sight to see.

The birds chirping were like the crickets chirping last night, except more calming. More pleasant and peaceful. It was so bright today, brighter than last night, he could see the birds flying over the shed and hear the ruffles of bushes from outside.

And speaking of brightness, the sun was starting to color the baby blue sky with a tangerine shade of orange as sunbeams shine through the clouds and into the shed through the windows, the light bouncing off his glossed livery as well.

As the outside got brighter and brighter, pushing out the cold air, a beam of light would start to form from the skylight. His crew paid no mind to it as they continued their work.

But then, the beam of sunlight would get brighter and brighter, to the point it'd-

“AGH!”

“oH CHRIST ABOVE-” Lloyd exclaims as Stephen’s eyes are blinded by the beam of light that suddenly shines over his eyes, nearly falling off the footplate from Stephen’s sudden flinch, seeing as he had just gotten on it. Though thankfully enough Emrys had grabbed Lloyd’s wrist, pulling him back on the footplate.

The other two young engineers would take a glance at the two on the footplate, seeing as they were behind Stephen’s tender digging through a crate of tools and materials. An awkward silence would fill the air for a bit.

Though the silence would break as the sound of screeching would amplify and ring through their ears.

“Fuck- Stephen!”

Emrys would make his way to the front of Stephen, seeing what he was doing.

“The light, thE LIGHT, THE LIGHT!”

Stephen was trying to reverse, but thanks to his brakes, he was starting to fracture them as his wheels tried to roll, his eyes closed tightly as he tried to avoid the sun that blinded him.

One of the young engineers would immediately climb onto the footplate of Stephen and release his brakes, suddenly stumbling forward as Stephen sped into the buffers behind him with a big- SLAM!

“What the bloody hell happened?!”

“Rocket! Are you okay?!”

He’d relax as the flames in his firebox stopped flaring up, calming down as he groaned from his buffers now aching from the sudden impact that came from slamming himself into the buffers behind him. Opening his eyes after they’ve stopped watering from the contact they made with the sun rays from above.

“I’m- I’m alright,” he croaks out as he takes a glance at this person who had just entered through the sheds, to which his eyes light up seeing who it is.

“You! Sir- Sir, you! You’re the man from that wall memory!”

“Wall memory?” the man raises an eyebrow at the young engine, confused as to what he means. Though a quick witted crewmember would hurriedly walk over to the man.

“Sir,” the crewmember starts before clearing his throat. “The young rocket, Stephen, meant to say photo.”

“Ah.”

“I apologise sir, we haven’t taught him an abundant amount of phrases up to this point.”

“I see.”

The man said as he gently took off his hat, kneeling down to Stephen’s level with a hard face yet soft gaze towards him.

“So then, tell me, young rocket, how much do you know of me?” He asks curiously.

“I know so much of you! So many stories of you being one of the wisest of engineers in this region, and you’re the one to design me!” 

“Oh really now?”

“Indeed! But then, I don’t know all of it. I don’t know your name.”

This would make the man chuckle softly at the sudden shift of enthusiasm to the cluelessness of the young rocket, his innocence infectious to most of the people in the room with him.

“Well, to introduce myself to a young yet revolutionary creation such as yourself; I am Robert Stephe–”

—-

“Stephen!”

“oH LADY–”

He’d flinch at the familiar yet sudden voice as he nearly slips off the flatbed he’s on, thankfully the ropes and clamps that support him underneath the tarp he’s been covered with would keep such an incident from happening.

As the engine in front of Stephen came to a smooth stop, releasing some steam, he could hear quick footsteps get closer and closer to his vicinity before they came to a stop, the tarp on him being lifted to reveal his face.

“Sir Robert?”

“Stephen, goodness me- Are you sure you’re better off without a soul lock? I understand how some of those locks would’ve brought discomfort to engines, yes, but you’ve been.. You’ve been restless these few days. I think those locks would benefit you with some comfort and rest.

“I say this with full confidence, I’ll be fine without one.”

“You nearly lost your balance while falling asleep, Stephen.”

“Keyword, nearly, I’ll just make sure to not let it happen again.”

Sir Robert sighed, “Alright then Stephen,” he says as he glances at Stephen, letting go of the tarp as it covered Stephen’s face, heading back to the cab of the engine pulling this flatbed.

Feeling his clamps be tightened, his mind would drift off as their journey on the rails continued.

Millie is out at Locomotion’s exhibition this week while he and Glynn are being transported to the NRM, it leaves him worried for Connor and Caitlyn.

From what he knew, they were the ones to take over some of their jobs alongside some of the narrow gauge engines, though knowing those two twins, he knew there would be some struggles.

What if something happened with Connor, say if his anxiety rose up again. Stephen’s noticed how on edge he’s looked the days before this week, though thankfully he hadn’t caused any delays to the express, but he’d guess some of the passengers would like a word with him after the slight turbulence.

And with him handling the main express while Gordon was away, it sure would’ve get to his nerves a bit.

He’d let out a soft sigh as he pushed back those thoughts. He just hopes Caitlyn would keep, as she said one time, ‘help him no matter how much the rails get bumpy.’

“Steph?”

His thoughts would cut off as he heard the call of a familiar voice.

“Yes, Dare?”

“Are you okay?”

“No, no- I’m just making sure.”

“I’m alright, didn’t you hear it earlier?”

“Alright.”

Well.. An awkward silence would fill the atmosphere as the only sounds that came from anyone present would be the chugging of Daire as rays of the sun shined through the tarp covering Stephen, helping him stay awake while he regained his consciousness.

But rather than continuing his last train of thought, his focus would go towards Daire.

Daire was quite the hard worker that one, always on time with his goods and was one of the few engines who got troublesome trucks to cooperate during rough times, was only soft towards those who were close with him. He was the embodiment of that phrase, ‘you respect me and I’ll respect you.’

Well, sort of. His gaze went faint as he recalled those times while he was among the humans, some of those big engines from the north would belittle him every damn chance they got, and it pissed him off thats for sure. It was quite unfair coming from the express engines who apparently were so glamorous, and at the time, were covered in filth and grime.

But in the end, they might’ve got the karma that was heading their way after the Beech-

“Do you ever miss them?” Daire suddenly murmured, breaking the silence.

“Pardon?”

“Do you- Do you ever miss your siblings, Stephen?”

“Well, I wouldn't say I had actual relatives, but I did have colleagues, friends who were like that, so I suppose I do. But I’ve accepted they're most likely in a better place,” Stephen explained with a glance down to his buffers.

“Oh, understandable.”

“Why do you ask?”

Now it was Daire's turn to look down at his buffers.

“Well, nothing.”

Stephen would let out a soft sigh. “Daire, you can say it,” he said as he could spot the silhouette of the Ivatt's through the tarp a little.

“No, no- Fuck it, I miss mine. There.”

“.. I figured.”

Daire would silently cursed himself underneath his breath as his speed starting picking up, trying to push back those thoughts. Though as subtle as it was nearing to be, Stephen would notice it as the wind started to push the tarp, feeling it float from his back buffers a bit, getting a bit concerned for the Ivatt tank engine.

“Look, Daire, no one can blame you for having those thoughts. Some others even went down the slope of insanity from having that happen to them, having to lose their siblings.”

“I know.”

“What I'm saying is; you can talk about it, you can let it out if you need to. It's better to let it out, rather than let it build up pressure until your safety valve bursts.”

“I know,” he croaked out, trying to force out words so as to not be rude, memories flashing through his mind as they came flooding in like a tsunami. Slowly flooding his mind.

As Stephen opened his mouth to continue, he'd pause for a moment. Browsing through his thoughts trying to look for the right words to say.

“If it helps,” he started as he cleared his throat a little. “I had this brother.”

“Really?”

“Yes, his name was Sans Pareli, though we called him Peppermint back then. He was a bit like you, always fidgeting with his wheels the second he woke up then letting it all loose when he got fired up for the day. Him and myself were very close. One could say we were twins, similar to twins.We lived together, in both engine and human lives, always there for eachother.”

“And your point?”

“The Rust had gotten him a decade from now.”  Stephen explained, his voice shockingly straight forward and empty. “Passed peacefully as he passed us his infectious laughter and jokes,” he continued with a crack in his voice.

Daire would be most shocked at this. “God, Stephen I’m so sorry.”

“You shouldn't be sorry, it's alright. ‘Those pricks can't best me at my worst, I'll just haunt them like a ghost for this halloween,’ he said. Even with that, I still grieved for weeks, months. Years.”

“I-”

“But you know what? I let it all out, and afterwards I felt the best I could feel. Like getting up a steep climb then speeding down the slope.”

“Wouldn't engines mock you?” Daire asked out of instinct.

“Well, if they did, it would be on them for being the pricks in that. I would just be grieving. And that means the same for you if engines pick on you for the same thing, your just minding your own business while they keep poking in. They’re the pricks, not you.”

Daire would stare at the rails deep in thought as he rolled across them, taking in the words of Stephen. It- He’s heard some of it before, yes, but it’s just hard to adjust to it. Adjusting to letting out emotions after blocking them out for so long.

There were times during his younger years where when he showed a drop of negative emotions, he’d be locked in a shed with a soul lock while having to struggle with such infectious, drowning emotions.

Unlike most engines in their recent years of life at the time, Daire was left to rot and rust from his emotions. But over time, no one, but himself were the only ones to save him from spiralling into absolute mental madness. Nearly succumbing to the other rust. That wretched rust that took his friends, his siblings away.

But over the years, he gained new friends, both human and engine. New friends that saved him from so many times he couldn’t even count it with blinking, and yet they’d save him a second before blinking!

As Stephen’s words finally sunk in long enough into his mind, he’d look to the orange clouds in the sky.

“Thank you.”

“Pardon?”

“I said thank you, horse, thanks.”

“Ah well, pleasure is mine. You young lads tend to need help, aside from mechanical help.”

“I’m beyond seven decades, Stephen.”

“You all are always youngins to me!”

Daire would chuckle at Stephen’s retort as they glided across the rails, his speed starting to ease down while being kept at a good pace, feeling his fire warm up more. He could feel his crew’s footsteps as they were nearing to the station.

As Sir Robert peeked out the cab, he’d spot a sign, it would read-

“Send a message to them! 30 minutes early, we’ve arrived at Kingfisher Halt!”

[tc-lrau-by-cheeseycandle]

The Intro | TC-LRAU

Basic things to know:

This AU is managed and written by @thatcheeseycandle

Please be wise with your words, aka dont be intentionally rude.

I will release stories about this AU on either here, wattpad, ao3, or all three platforms.

This AU isn't my main focus\project in life, so I apologise if this AU might get less uploads every once in awhile

As of writing this intro (2024/3/30) this AU is still a work in progress

The masterpost for this AU is in here {📹}

-------

-------

[thatcheeseycandle]

//tw for slightly gore-y imagery (not too gore-y dw)

"I'm taking back the number of the beast"

"'Cause six is not a pretty number"

"Eight or three are definetly better"

My Alcoholic Friends -The Dresden Dolls

AT LAST IVE DONE IT LIKE THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE ITS OFFICIALLY NOT 6/6 (or 7/6 BUT COUGHS ITS 6/6 IN SOMEONE'S TIMEZONE)

[thatcheeseycandle]

//IVE COMPLETED IT, MY 5/5 PIECE

HERES JAMES!! I WAS TWO DAYS LATE UNFORTUNATELY BUT GOOD GOSH I FINALLY GOT MY TIME SORTED OUT AND FINISHED THIS

Now until then I'll be working on some projects, of course posting them onto here when they're finished. So yeah! Feeding the ttte nation for once HGAHXHSHS

[thatcheeseycandle]

Okay OKAY IM A BIT LATE (As in days late) SO UH RIGHT SO SORRY ABOUT THAT-

BUT HAVE THIS I FINALLY FINISHED IT

Happy Birthday Big Green! :]

For context: it basically is like "Oh this is what happened during his birthday!"

To explain further, the first scene is the public celebration of his birthday (being that I envisioned it happening in a museum), the second scene is yknow.. Contiplating life. WHILE WHILE- The third scene is just him celebrating his birthday with Truro, just the two of them :D (They spent the rest of the night hanging out with eachother that's why it's near sunrise)

[thatcheeseycandle]

Just a quick rant, I KEEP UNDERESTIMATING MY AU CAUSE GOOD GOSH THERES SO MUCH TO WRITE DOWN

THEN I GOTTA POST THIS AND THEN DO FOLLOW-UP POSTS OF THOSE POSTS THEN MAKE ALL OF THE NEEDED DESIGNS

OH WAIT I GOTTA CLEAR SPACE FOR THOSE THINGS

THEN THERES THE PROBLEM OF OH WAIT HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN AFTER THAT PLOT

Conclusion: Yeah never underestimate your own works before working on them HAGAHSGDGHNSFV

[thatcheeseycandle]

T2024: Day 4, Great Race | TC-LRAU

Everything was burning. Everything was burning hotter than the sun, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop!

As he felt his stream-lining shell start to break away with steam bursting through, making his boiler crack even more than before, but it was even quicker to do so as it had been broken up from all that he held in to keep himself from going back to Sodor. To continue on.

He can’t die right now- he can’t! Please, please not now, not now. All his thoughts at that moment were pleading to Lady Above that he wouldn’t fail right there and then, or worse, especially not in front of all of these people and engines. His brother especially.

After so many years of entertaining one crowd, Sodor, the thought of being able to show what he was capable of to an entirely new audience was enthralling to him. It was an opportunity he’d take after so long of waiting to stay in this loop.

He took it, right when Sir Topham Hatt mentioned it, he took the offer much to his controller, and his own, surprise. With all the safety precautions, he was sure incidents weren’t most likely to occur.

His mind started to fill with thoughts he had suppressed for too long, making this even worse as his anxiety rose, fearing for the worse. And surprise, surprise, it had indeed came true as he heard the whistle of a familiar face, snapping him back to reality.

As he glanced around the track, he would feel the wind swirl through the cracks of his shelling as Spencer sped by, feeling his boiler weaken even more as consciousness crept up from the back of his mind, in a painfully slow way.

He could just feel Spencer starting to panic even faster than he was, simply speeding up to avoid the ghastly sight that was the process of becoming a corpse. Hearing the muffled voice of the announcer halting the engines that were behind him to stop, he’d try to apply his brakes but it would multiply the agony by pushing the stuck pieces of debris more into the little crevices near the brakes.

And because of that, his wheels would screech against the rails beneath him, wearing them down. Then, he’d hear the muffled sound of a plate breaking as a part of his forehead started to numb, he could see a golden liquid flow at the corner at his eye.

As the numbness faded out, now replaced with a sensation similar to that of multiple cuts reopening themselves after being stitched up, his vision would start to feel like looking through a cracked pane of glass—-

—-

“Are you quite sure about this?”

“Of course I am! Besides, why not test if these new wings of mine can benefit me in this form?”

“Well if they don’t prove to be worthy, I’ll just have to donate my own wings to you.”

“You’d be out of your right mind if so!” he laughed as he stretched out his wings a bit.

It had only been a year since he had been blessed with a name, and of course, it’s even more magical than it had been described by others. That shiver that ran through him when he woke up with that name plate on him after a little checkover by the engineers. It was amazing.

But of course, that night where he had just returned from a run and Solario had suddenly bumped into him, had caused him to discover this new human-like mechanical form of his. Though he had no issue with it, Solario was quite on edge from nightmares from what he had heard and it was about time he had learnt about this new form.

Well technically he had known about it ever since he had stumbled onto Gordon in his own humanoid form.

Though his train of thought would be cut off as he glanced at Gordon, who would be stretching his own wings as both of them glanced at what was in front of them. It would be-

“Oh this cliff is as beautiful as I remembered it!”

It would be a cliff, the slope would practically be invisible as the view below it was a bit nerve wracking yet thrilling. Oh to see the world below from above such a height like this would be amazing, hence why they’re here. 

He’s already proved he could glide off the ground a bit, why not do it from a great height!

As he stretched out his wings as far as he could, taking a glance at Gordon who was looking beyond the horizon, he’d look to what was infront of him as well. The warmth of dawn as the sun had fallen down to the south to rest at last, leaving the moon to finally rise.

“Scotsman.”

“Yes?”

“I promise, to make up for all of my mistakes, I’ll be there when something goes wrong. I’ll be on standby.”

He’d look at Gordon sympathetically. “You don’t need to make up for anything, dear brother. But thank you. The same goes for me with you, I promise to keep you safe as well.”

“Thank you.”

Scotsman stood precariously at the edge of a towering cliff, the wind tousling his hair and filling his lungs with the crisp, invigorating scent of the open sky. 

Below him stretched a breathtaking landscape, an expanse of emerald valleys and serpentine rivers shimmering under the midday sun, a view so vast and beautiful it almost made him forget the gnawing sense of doubt that always lingered at the back of his mind. His wings, short and stubby, quivered with a mixture of excitement and trepidation; they were hardly the kind of appendages that would allow for any real flight, but today felt different. 

Today, there was an inexplicable urge pushing him forward, a whisper in his soul urging him to leap into the abyss and embrace whatever awaited him in the open air. He had often watched his brother Gordon soar effortlessly above the ground, his magnificent wings—large, powerful, and beautifully designed, complete with metallic tips that gleamed like swords in the sunlight—gliding through the sky with an elegance that Scotsman could only dream of. 

Yet here he was, standing on the precipice, contemplating a jump, unsure of what he might discover about himself.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and took a step forward, feeling his heart race as gravity threatened to pull him down. But instead of falling, Scotsman felt an unexpected buoyancy, a lightness that lifted him up and out into the vast expanse of the sky, his body suspended as if cradled by the air itself. 

The world below shrank rapidly, and for a moment, pure exhilaration flooded through him; he was flying, or at least floating, caught in an exhilarating dance with the wind that whipped around him. 

It was a sensation he had never experienced before, and the feeling of weightlessness enveloped him in a cocoon of joy. Up here, he felt free, liberated from the constraints of earthbound existence. 

Yet, amid the thrill, a troubling awareness began to gnaw at him: this incredible ability was not something he understood, nor did he know how long it would last. There was a strange energy pulsating within him, a warmth that surged and ebbed like a flickering flame, and with each passing second, he sensed that this magic was draining, like a well running dry.

As he soared higher, he glanced down, the ground appearing more distant and hazy, the trees like mere dots, and an irrational fear began to creep into his heart. How long could he sustain this? His wings flapped uselessly, offering no real support, only a rhythmic flutter that accompanied the growing panic within him. 

Soon, he felt the first heavy tug of gravity asserting itself, the joyous buoyancy beginning to slip away like grains of sand through his fingers. Scotsman gasped as he realized he was beginning to descend, the world rushing up to meet him far more quickly than he had anticipated. It was not long before the exhilarating thrill of floating transformed into the cold grip of fear, and in that moment of despair, he felt utterly alone, suspended between the ground and the sky, a mere moment away from disaster.

But just as he began to fall, a powerful rush of wind announced Gordon’s arrival. Scotsman looked up to see his brother soaring toward him, wings spread wide and majestic, cutting through the air with practiced grace. 

“SCOTSMAN! BROTHER!”

—-

‘BROTHER!’

Is what he would’ve yelled out had it not been for the lump that formed near his vocal cords, gripping tightly on them as he witnessed in horror his own brother start to become as literal as his name. 

He would try to speed up, trying to call out to him, but every attempt would be in vain as his mind clawed at him. His own mind betraying himself. Even though he knew his brother was in agony just by looking at him, debris flying towards the engines behind him, he couldn’t talk.

But at last, as he slid back his smoke deflectors as much as he could without resisting, he would glance at his brother through blurred eyes from the flames that brought a nerve wracking warmth near his face, opening his mouth to call out to him-

“Evacuate the area! All engines behind NWR N. 4 must remain behind him for safety, and for those ahead of him, get as far as you can then head to the emergency sidings marked with white flags!”

‘Get as far as you can’ was all that rang in his mind as he looked to the engines on the track beside his, their distraught faces being carved into his mind everytime he looked at them. He’d try to brush it off as he heard mumbles from Gordon, trying to focus on him instead.

But Scot, those glaring eyes that gaze towards you, couldn’t you consider what they have to say? What to say about your poor weak brother in this moment? How unreliable he currently looks as they pity him? Hm?

“Scot- Please–”

How could you associate yourself with such a weak sibling? It was a surprise enough such an antique were to appear in such a grand streamlined shell, hell, it was a surprise he even still survived!

Stop, stop. His ears rang as he finally looked at Gordon in the right mind, his eyes widening as he saw the… The cracks. No, those weren’t any cracks. The yellow tint in his eyes was shifting colours, to that colour.

Oh look at him, it seems his time is up. A shame, really. He would’ve been a fine static display next to Mallard, don’t you think?

Scotsman’s thoughts spiraled, a mix of disbelief and dread. How had it come to this? Gordon, once a paragon of strength and pride, now reduced to this fragile state. The cracks were spreading, like a disease consuming him from within. Scotsman could almost hear the mocking whispers of the other engines, the silent judgment of the museum visitors.

He deserves better than this, Scotsman thought, a pang of sorrow piercing his heart. But what could be done? Time was merciless, and even the mightiest engines couldn’t escape its grasp.

Gordon’s eyes met his, a flicker of recognition and despair. “Scotsman… I…”

No, don’t speak. Save your strength, old friend. Scotsman wished he could say the words aloud, but they remained trapped in his mind, a silent plea for mercy.

Accept it, Scotsman. This is the end for him. Embrace the future, and let the past fade away.

But how could he? How could he let go of the memories, the shared triumphs and struggles? Gordon was more than just an engine; he was a brother, a comrade. Scotsman’s resolve wavered, his anxiety mounting. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, suffocating.

I can’t watch this. I can’t bear it. The thought echoed in his mind, growing louder with each passing second. His wheels trembled, and he felt an overwhelming urge to flee, to escape the unbearable sight of Gordon’s decline.

Without another thought, Scotsman turned away, his heart heavy with guilt and sorrow. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t watch his brother fade away. As he slid his smoke deflectors with a click, speeding up as fast as he can, the echoes of Gordon’s struggles haunted him, a reminder of the relentless march of time and the fragility of even the strongest among them.

—-

Gordon’s wings were a magnificent sight to behold, the feathers layered in a way that mimicked the natural world but were imbued with a glimmering strength, the metallic tips shining brightly in the sunlight, embodying both beauty and might. Scotsman felt a jolt of relief shoot through him as Gordon’s keen eyes locked onto his, the familiar warmth of his brother’s presence igniting a flicker of hope in his heart. 

With a fierce determination, Gordon swooped down, his powerful wings propelling him forward at breathtaking speed. Scotsman’s heart raced as he felt the air shift around him, and before he knew it, Gordon was there, his strong arms wrapping around Scotsman with an assurance that chased away the shadows of fear.

In an instant, the world shifted again, and instead of falling, Scotsman found himself cradled in the safety of Gordon’s embrace, his brother’s wings working in harmony with the currents of air to lift them both up, soaring effortlessly back toward the sky. 

Scotsman clung tightly, heart pounding with a mixture of gratitude and awe as they glided together, the thrill of being so high, so alive, rushing through him like a wildfire. The initial panic faded, replaced by the warmth of familial love and the realization that he was not alone in this moment, that even in his darkest fears, his brother would always be there to catch him, to support him when the weight of the world felt too heavy to bear.

As they descended slowly, Gordon’s laughter rang out like music, filling the air with joy, a sound that grounded Scotsman in reality, reminding him that even if he could not fly on his own, he was always anchored by the unbreakable bond they shared.

When they finally landed on solid ground, the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over everything, and Scotsman felt a newfound appreciation for the experience, a profound understanding that it was not merely about the act of flying but about the connections that uplifted him, the moments shared with his brother that truly made him feel alive.

Even as he grappled with the mystery of his floating ability, he felt an assurance that he was not defined by his limitations but rather by the love and support that surrounded him. The sky, once a realm of dreams and doubts, now felt like a place of possibility, a canvas upon which he could paint new stories alongside his brother, one leap at a time. 

And in that moment of quiet realization, standing side by side with Gordon, he knew that the journey was far from over, that together they would discover the heights they could reach, not just through the power of wings but through the strength of their bond, forever ready to leap into the unknown together.

But at this very moment as Gordon looks back at this memory through the line between unconsciousness and the cruel reality that is happening right now, that’s quite the lie, isn’t it?

[thatcheeseycandle]

T2024: Day 5, Exhibition | TC-LRAU

The New Hall would fill with the sounds of conversation and excitement faster than building it, another year, another round of visitors from all over the region, every spot in there would be filled with all sorts of steam engines.

Each batch of engines that came would represent the railway they’re currently owned by, the more well-known ones coming to the exhibition.

All kinds of steam engines there; from narrow to standard gauge, and from 19th century to new builds, a big and broad roster of engines.

But before we get to them, we’ll focus our attention on the person who’d tap their mic twice lightly, clearing their throat as they caught the attention of the spread out crowd.

“If I could have most of your attention, visitors and contributors, old and new, I’d like to thank you all for coming here to see another moment of history in motion.”

The man started, as the sounds coming from the crowd would die down as he spoke.

“I am honoured to be passed down with the role my father, Seth Harken once had. Continuing the legacy of, not just of his love for engines of all types and how much he's done for both engines and humans, but his own personal legacy. To all of us, including myself.”

His gaze softening, he'd straighten his posture as his grip on the microphone tightened. Taking a quick glance at his watch.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

“But, in his words, let the hour begin!”

Tock.

As a cacophony of whistles blasted in the air, echoing across the halls, the event would officially be in full motion.

——

“Why so worried, dear sister?” Came the comforting voice of the Stirling Single, N. 1, separating himself from the group consisting of Flying Scotsman and Black 5s, glancing curiously at his younger sister.

To which said younger sister would flinch at the sudden call, her train of thought breaking. Though glancing at him with a warm smile once she recognized who it was.

“Ferris, hello.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Milly, what's the matter? Is it those Midlanders again?”

She'd chuckle softly at such a claim.

“You say that as if you weren't mingling with those Black 5s, dear brother,” she says as she glances at said Black 5s, overhearing their conversations mixed with jabs at each other and general gossip, not dying down a single bit considering the Flying Scotsman was practically the host of that session.

“Well, I wasn't exactly mingling. I was simply offering up advice.”

“Advice about mentoring the newest edition to the LBSCR? It seems your reputation as a mentor yourself is still kept up, well, you're more like a fath–”

“Oh hush, they'll hear us!” Ferris’ face would flush with red a bit in embarrassment, reversing into the buffers behind him as Emily held in a laugh, even with the decades that flew by, she still wondered why he hid things like this from those he loved.

She will admit, even if it was rare, he tends to be quite the silly engine when being straightforward about his clear affection towards all the engines hes taken under his wing, or cab, and right now is one of her favourite examples.

She’s seen how much he’s rubbed off on the Atlantic, they’re practically father and son as the humans say. It’s quite heart warming, like how some of the shunters back before the grouping era had picked up on Ferris’ mannerisms. It’s very amusing.

“I know that look of yours Milly, what’re you planning to pull on me now?”

“Oh please, if you had known said look, you would’ve known it wasn’t that.”

“Then what on Lady’s name are you plotting in that scandalous mind of yours?” He jabbed jokingly at her, though would be met with an Emily who’d gaze out in front of her thoughtfully.

“But not in a Great Western manner, it is similar to how the humans would cope with lost. If you recall how my fireman in the 80s had coped with the news of his aunt’s unfortunate passing with his religious beliefs as I recall, then it is similar to how I’m thinking now.”

‘Well,” she sighed before she started. “I suppose it’s just the faint yet vivid presence of our siblings, our colleagues.”

“Ah.”

“I see.”

In all honesty, she didn’t mean to drag down the mood this quickly, but she can’t exactly help it.

Looking back at it all. It’s most likely the toughest run to have experienced, from speeding through the glorious sight that was the River Trent to then having to take in all the neglect the rest of them had to face. Though thankfully it was willingly, since the remaining of them had agreed to it before being locked away-

“Well, I suppose I’ll place down that note for myself.”

“If it helps, Emily, I could recommend a relief crew from the Mid-Norfolk. They’ve been quite the help for myself and mostly to others, an example being that Thompson.”

“Mayflower?”

“Yes, him. He’s been in need of it for quite a while from the looks of it, I will admit.”

“Just contact my crew with yours, ask for a Mr. Onix, and they’ll come right away. Though it will depend on how far and busy they are when you do so.”

“I see-”

The sudden buzz of a radio would echo in Emily’s cab, her firebox starting to warm up again as her fireman threw coal inside it. Good gosh, why did it have to be now?

“Well, I bid you farewell for now, Ferris. I hope to see you soon after this run.”

“Same goes to you dear sister!” He replied as the both tooted both of their whistles at eachother, watching Emily leave with a wheesh of steam.

——

“Now that was a blast!”

“A blast of whistles you mean!”

The three would burst into laughter as they arrived at their designated spots within the new hall.

A little flow of people would form around them, murmurs of conversations blurring together and curious people eyeing them in either surprise or admiration, or both! Either way, the engines would simply chat among themselves as if they were the only ones in the room.

Though there would be one engine in between those atmospheres, st always taking a glance behind them, as if waiting for something. Something, someone.

Time moving slower than a tank engine trying to pull an express consisting of eight full coaches on their own.

It was painful, in simple words. It was crawling from the back of their mind to consume their thoughts. 

Not the greatest thoughts to go through your mind during a wonderful time like this.

No, no. They just need to be calm. He's received the overhaul, he's been checked out, hell you were there in some of those sessions, he'll be fine.

Just enjoy the moment, enjoy the momen-

“Nadi?”

They'd snap out their train of thought, looking to wherever the voice came from, to which they'd get a bit embarrassed at. Well shit.

“Yea- Ah, what is it?”

“You were staring at that 9F, the Black Prince, are you okay?”

“Well, Betto-”

“Do you have a crush on him?”

“The fuck? No, of course not!” Nadi’s smoke deflectors slid back as they glanced at Lyd, as she rolled beside them on the narrow-gauge tracks next to the standard-gauge tracks the three were on, quite baffled at this sudden claim. Considering how the Black Prince is more of a brother than a lover, it was odd.

Though they couldn't exactly blame Lyd, Nadi doesn't talk about other engines much often, other than the ones they usually speak of.

“Besides, why would I have a crush on him?!”

“Well, why would the Flying Scotsman have a crush on that King Arthur class? Hmm?”

“Okay fair point, but stil-”

Suddenly, a familiar whistle would blast through the atmosphere, cutting off the four's conversation. Considering their brakes would be applied by their crews, Lyd would reverse to see who it’d be.

Though as she did, her eyes widened in surprise as she took a glance at their nameplate, now recognizing who it was.

“Oh, Leslie!”

——

Oh how loud it was here, well, at least it wasn’t as chaotic as Sodor. It’s just louder than it.

He’d reverse into the coaches behind him as the shunter behind them uncoupled from the coaches and let out a little “peep!” of a whistle, to which he’d whistle back at them.

As he glanced to the sign that read-

“We’re at Redworth! No- No, I’m not fucking with you I’m serious!”

“Sounds like she’s fucking with you, old chap.”

He will admit, he did miss them. He missed how comforting they were to him, that light feeling that swirled in his firebox whenever he interacted with him. It was an odd feeling, in a good way, and it seems to run in their family as the same feeling has started to resurface in recent years since the 2000s started.

“You’re older than me!”

Gordon would hold in his laughter as he heard his crew jab at each other a bit. The two have been with him for about, nearly a decade as he recalls. Wow. Though they’ve technically been with him for nearly two, since they go back into the late 90s as his crew. Being the brother and cousin of his crew before them.

As much as he’d like to go into detail of this feeling, he just couldn’t find the right words to. It was similar to this feeling he had felt before, it was the bond between him and his siblings, though that didn’t fully match up with what this odd, swirly feeling he felt with them, with his crews.

Though unfortunately he wouldn’t be able to further his research and guesses into it as the sound of a whistle blasted through the air, his hearing being pierced like a bullet shooting through paper. As he glanced to his left, the whistle would be muffled as it fades out by the sound of pistons pumping, surprised at who it is as his eyes widened.

“Hello there, little brother.”

“Ah, ah. That’s my phrase, little brother.”

“A phrase that’s originated from me, Scotsman, or would you like me to refer to you as one of the elderly considering your memory might not be working too well?”

Scotsman would slide back his smoke deflectors, revealing his jokingly ‘offended’ look as he took a glance at Gordon.

“Oh says the one who’s beyond a century old!”

“You’ve literally just become a century old, little brother. And you do represent a century.”

“Oh fuck off," he muttered jokingly, unconsciously letting his american accent slip out as it mixed with his natural one.

After a slight pause between the two, they’d burst into light laughter as they sped down the line side by side, blasting their whistles in a duet as they wheeshed steam, doing what they love. Their purpose.

[thatcheeseycandle]

T2024: Day 3, Trust | TC-LRAU

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“I had to do it! HE WAS GONNA DIE, JOHN!”

“EVEN WITH THAT, YOU COULD’VE COST US THOUSANDS WITH THAT STUNT!”

It would be the middle of the night, even if it was normally the most peaceful period in a day, as you can see, it was not for the crew of three engineers that had stayed the night to keep an eye on the now emptied engine of Tornado.

“Oh and I’m the one pulling the stunts here? You bloody idiot, she could’ve died and that would cost us EVEN MORE with how much money the Trust owes the GWR! And if you aren’t taking that to mind, take this, how would we explain to them that we killed THE YOUNGEST STEAM ENGINE TO DATE?! HOW DO WE JONATHAN, IF IT HAPPENS, HOW DO WE?!”

“ENOUGH! Both of you, will you fucking STOP?!”

The storm was loud outside, like themselves, it was a cold evening as well. 

“Mackenzie, he started it!” Jonathan frustratingly gestures to the now empty vial, to which Mackenzie would eye, spotting the label on it that read-

“Gold dust.. Wait, wheres Tornado?”

Now this was when Johnathan cracked.

“She's in the back, I called the Director already to assist him. Because Trevor over here decided to REPLENISH his gold dust while it was reforming!”

“HE NEEDED HELP, FUCKING HELP!“

“WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!” Mackenzie cut off the both of them as they were riling up eachother again, pinching her nose before she took a glance at Tornado's engine past the two.

The day before, Trevor had seen signs of detachments in the soul and told the NRM about it, trying to get advice on how to handle it, but they simply said to leave it be.

To put it in the least graphical way, it was not pretty at all.

As Trevor recalls, his face started to soften like hard clay reverting back to lumpy soft clay it used to be before drying and it was bad. His face cracked and shards of it fell off like clay plates falling on the ground, shattering into smaller shards of “clay.”

It was horrifying. Imagine if that happened to you, slowly breaking into shards while you can't do anything about it, feeling yourself basically die slowly.

Thankfully, when the cracks started to get a few inches bigger and noticeable, Trevor had went back into the shed to check on inventory and there were vials of gold dust there. He had used one of those vials and gave it to Tornado into his firebox.

But when he saw Tornado in such a state, it was surreal.

Seeing him decay away like that, sent chills down his spine.

As Trevor sat down on a bench nearby, facing the side of Tornado's cab, Johnathan would go into said cab with a toolbox wrapped with his arm as he looked over the controls before looking deeper. Though shooting Trevor a furious gaze before he went into it.

Mackenzie on the other hand, would enter through a door, it led to this small hallway with three doors.

The first door that was at the end of the hall, it led to the outside to the yard. It had a window above the handle that let in some light, but currently it was the only light source, seeing as the light bulb above has been removed for repairs.

It added a mysterious touch, seeing how that beam of light shined through the window, looking better with that sun catcher Johnathan placed there. 

But that door to the left of her, it was more “mysterious”, and I say mysterious in quotation marks considering that is how visitors of the workshop described it. It wasn't mysterious to Mackenzie by all means, she has access to it after all.

Free to look through the files that lay inside that pieced together such a massive project.

But as she looked closer, she’d notice a crack between the door and wall. There she was.

As Mackenzie grabbed the handle, lightly pushing the door open for her to walk in, she'd scan the room beyond her.

It’s been nearly a month or two since the last time she, or anyone, entered this area, this archive. It was expected for dust to build up, considering how many files and documents the Trust had collected over the years, of course this “office” would've turned into this.

Blue prints, newspapers, engine files, nameplates, a quarter of the entire history of the LNER was practically all in here, considering 70% of Tornado's class history was here. Or what felt like it.

What was more baffling is, where on God's name did they get all of it from? Surely there's sources or storage buildings Gresley, or his relatives, would've left behind. It was suspicious enough with the rumors of the Trust crafting up the files themselves, hence why Tornado was built a bit faulty.

Turning a corner, those thoughts would grow louder as she glanced at the rows of archive shelves, they had changed since the last time she was in here, most of them were filled to the brim with documents and actually were sorted out.

But then, the sound of heavy breathing starting to get louder and louder as she enters the main archive. And so we go back at the Tornado mention, seeing as Mackenzie spots Tornado sitting on the ground, leaning on a little cart filled with books.

To which her eyes would widen in shock.

———

“You don't need to remind me of that!”

“Well, what Duchess of Hamilton said would deny that, Nadia.”

“It's Nadi! You- ti shit bach sbeitlyd-”

“What you guys really need to do, is to chill the FUCK out!”

“Cyrus, it's already cold enough, what’re you expecting?!”

As you can see, the sun wouldn't push out the cold of the night as it rises in the sky. And, as expected, even Tornado's fully lit firebox couldn’t drown it out as well.

The week had just started and yet what has happened in the last one still is present, considering a volunteer and historian were newly recruited into the main operational crew.

A sudden thud would be heard, Nadi would be the first to see who or what caused that, to which they'd let out a huff of cold breath and steam.

“Hi Uncle Scot.”

They greet Sc-

“Holy shit- Scotsman, are you alright mate?”

They greet Scotsman as Cyrus helps him up from the floor, seemingly in his human form rather than the traditional monochrome form. To which Nadi silently cursed under their breath.

Well, another day another trip to the Museum. But then, they will admit, it’s been two or three months since the last one. Time flies fast they supposed.

But something they can fully admit is that they missed E-

“Nadi? Nadi c’mon, we have to get going.”

They'd snap out of their train of thought, as they look to where the voice comes from, seeing it would be the new historian, Trent. Though they would look in front of them, wincing at the sudden light that burst through the crack of the shed door, annoyed even more.

But as their eyes adjusted to the light outside, they’d see the back of a tender. Specifically a streamlined non-corridor one. Considering the context of this situation, they’d roll forward out of habit as they looked to their coupling.

“Tornado- Nadi!”

A familiar voice called out to Nadi, to which they’d apply their brakes with a slight screech, realising the tender was farther than they thought it would be. As they slid back their smoke deflectors a bit to see where this voice came from, they'd slide them back as fast as they could with a click.

“Nadi. You can slide those smoke deflectors back, but it doesn’t matter anyway,” it spoke another word, to which Nadi froze at, in pure embarrassment.

A tall figure would come into their view, the first thing they’d notice is that this person would have two plastic leg braces on the thighs and a cane, more specifically a multiple point cane from what they could guess, with the two handles.

As they were about to throw a retort at this person, they’d notice the black hair with blue frosted tips, the blue fading to a cyan-turquoise.

“Where’s your wheelchair, Trevor? And what’s with the new cane? Did the last one finally snap?”

They’d eye all these new orthotics and cane, a look of concern would form on their face. Yes they were used to seeing Trevor with a cane most of the time, sometimes coming here with a wheelchair, like the first time they met him, but surely there would’ve been a notice on all this new stuff.

Seeing Nadi’s reaction, Trevor chuckled softly after he adjusted his brace into place a bit. Holding firmly on his cane as he looked back up at Nadi.

“No, no. I just wanted to get myself a new cane since I’m gonna be volunteering on the NYMR, my main one won’t help much with the work I’ll do there,” he explains as he gestures to the end of the cane, from the top having a night sky filled with puppet looking suns and moons, to it fading to a light blue sky with clouds looking like they were carved wood.

The patterns would mesmerize Nadi for a minute, but then would snap out themselves as they took a glance at Trevor.

“Sorry. For the- Yeah, going too far out the shed.”

They would let off some steam as they backed into the shed, pulling back their smoke deflectors to look around the shed a bit, being aware of the environment, they supposed. They could hear Trevor reassure them it was alright to go a bit further out, considering it’s basically a habit to do so when they head off to the museum.

But as they looked to their left they’d realize, ah fuck, right, Scot. As they narrowed their eyes, they'd clear their throat.

“Hey, Uncle Scot.”

This would catch the attention of the Flying Scotsman, who'd return the look with an awkward one.

“Hello, Tornado.”

“Lady above- Your zoning out again.”

“What- I didn't even-”

“It's Nadi, incase you forgot, Flying Scotsman,” they bluntly shot that at him as he narrowed his eyes to the ground, to which Nadi let's out a tired sigh at before their face would start to evaporate into gold dust.

As the gold dust piled up a bit on the ground before swirling into a little tornado, evaporating into the air as it revealed a humanoid silhouette.

Though as Scotsman looked up, taking a glance at to where the glow of gold was coming from, he'd be met with an empty glare from, what he presumes to be, Nadi's human form.

It's been a while since he's seen their human form. His memories would be pried out from the back of his mind looking into the golden swirl of their eyes, memories of those who had ‘passed.’

Thinking about it, they were quite bittersweet. Yes he could see so much of Great Eastern in Nadi. His strong will, impressionable nature, and cleverness. But he could see another side to them, their courage and their open-minded nature, alongside a main trait of theirs, their assertiveness. That most likely being their Great Wes-

“So, are you just gonna stare at me for more than half the minute you spent doing so?”

He’d snap out of his near-spiral down his endless train of thoughts, looking down to the floor as soon as he processed Nadi’s words.

“I apologise,” he’d stand up as he glanced back down at Nadi, who would still be looking at him disapprovingly while their face was stoic, stepping back a bit to give Scotsman some room. Even with Scotsman rising above them by a few inches, Nadi still kept their guard up with that look.

Then they’d let out a tired sigh as they glanced back at their engine.

“Let’s just, get to our engines before this gets awkward.”

“Agreed.”

As he felt his crew step into his cab, he could feel deep down that this would not end well.

As he walked over to his own engine,  gently touching the buffer beam, he’d catch a glimpse of Nadi taking off their shades, spotting a scar underneath their eye, the cracks fro-

He’d see a quick flash of gold dust before he opened his eyes, as he settled into his engine his pistons would hiss with steam as it flowed out, hearing the click of Nadi’s smoke deflectors from behind his tender.

———

There would be cracks on her face, thankfully starting to fade away as it decreased to only being most visible at her cheek.

“Torn- Nadi, Nadi?!”

Nadi would look up at Mackenzie, then immediately back down as her head was now encased her hands. She'd speed up a little before slowing down, seeing Nadi’s current state, taking in how sh- they would be feeling right now.

Seeing Nadi look so frail and tense, she'd kneel down to be near their level.

“Hey.. Nadi, you're here, I'm here,” she lowers her voice to a soft whisper, but loud enough for Nadi to hear, reaching out her hand to them a little. To which Nadi would grab, kneeling up a little, pulling Mackenzie into a hug as she felt tears stain her retro jacket.

She wouldn't flinch the slightest as she returned the hug with warmth, letting them sob into her shoulder as they got a bit louder.

Nadi tugged on her jacket a bit tighter as she started to form words in mumbles after saying somewhat-welsh gibberish.

“Do not let anyone see me- please— I just wanna be here, I felt so dead. Please, Ms Mac please—”

They mumble out between their sobs, each attempt at forming words just made more tears leak out as they clung on to Mackenzie for comfort.

They could feel the cracks start to get bigger and bigger

Ever since the accident, the sensation of cracking had haunted him. The initial injury had left him with a deep scar, both physically and mentally.

Now, in moments of stress or fatigue, he would feel the phantom cracks spreading across their skin. It was as if their body was betraying him, the old wound reopening and splintering further. He would look down at his hand, expecting to see his flesh splitting apart, but there was nothing there. The hallucinations were vivid, almost real, and he could hear the faint sound of cracking, like dry twigs snapping underfoot echo in his mind.

Each time, he had to remind himself that it was all in his mind, a cruel trick played by his trauma. But the fear lingered, making him question his own reality. No matter how much he tried, he was still pulled in between reality and the roaring storm that are the memories that came flooding in like a tsunami. It was agonising.

He could recall the minutes before, during, and after the Incident, their clouded thoughts as they flashed in and out of consciousness with a flash of golden light, his golden light.

Oh how he felt so idiotic for not noticing it sooner at the time, it was right there!

———

As he recalls it, it was when they reached 80 mph from what he heard from his crew during the run, they were ready to speed past through Huntingdon as their wheels ached while keeping strong, ignoring the pain with the confident flame inside their firebox. But even with their regulator feeling so free, steam whirling inside like a flock of birds gliding through the clouds.

The thing that made him the happiest was to hear that everyone he knew from Didcot, West Somerset, and the Museum were cheering him on watching the run. The flame inside his firebox roared with warmth as his thoughts went to Odis and Evelyn, they were watching him right now! Pulling a service on such a rapid speed!

Looking back on it, that moment was quite the thrilling one. All the struggles they faced up to that point all paid off right there. 

But that was until they blew their whistle after reaching 90 mph, that warm feeling inside of them turned to reality as it started to sting a little. He could see thin strings of steam flowing near his buffers as something inside them felt warmer and warmer.

And after that last blast of a whistle, something inside of him exploded.

His mouth started to leak with steam uncontrollably and his pistons started to crack as pieces fell off, hitting his siderods a bit as he could feel steam leak a bit into his smokebox. They were being halted by the same thing that gives them mobility.

But through the panic, the last hope they had as cracks started to sprout from his left cheek-

‘I promise, to make up for all of my mistakes, I’ll be there when something goes wrong. I’ll be on standby,’ he recalled him saying before the run. The last hope they had was on the Flying Scotsman coming to his aid, like he had promised.

And then came a sudden sprout of long cracks as he could feel his face chip off bit by bit, his vision flashing between a golden light and the blurred track that his then glowing golden eyes were shining on—

———

“Nadi, wake up. We’ve arrived!” Called Mackenzie cheerfully from their cab, snapping them out of nearly dozing off to sleep. Well, shit, there goes their free nap.

As they slid back their smoke deflectors, their eyes lit up at the wonderful view of the sun shining on the metal roof of the main exhibition building of Locomotion, the sky behind it being a nearly-white baby blue sky with bursts of orange from the south, fading out as time went on.

Though as Nadi fully slid back their smoke deflectors, they’d notice the green livery and golden outline of-

“Betton! Over here!”

[thatcheeseycandle]

T2024: Day 2, First Light | TC-LRAU

A void is all there is. Complete silence, nothing to hear, see or feel in the atmosphere.

You don't know why, but you feel numb. That numbness would shiver throughout your body. Emptiness, it’s emptiness.

Emptiness only grows louder as the minutes pass by.

It feels depriving, a craving to burst out builds up inside of you. It latches and pulls on you constantly as you start to gain control.

Something inside of you awakens, but you don't know what that is.

This is all new, very new, you're new.

And you’re here. You’re aware of the wind that whistles beside you and the cold air.

But then something clicks inside you.

“Grab the tools, it's gonna blow!”

“It’s glowing, it’s glowing!”

“No you idiots it's just the lamp!”

“‘TIS FIRE IS GOING WILD!”

“JUST PUT IT OUT! PUT IT OUT!”

“Would you all CALM DOWN!?”

“IT'S BLOODY RAINING HARD DONNACHA! HOW CAN WE CALM DOWN, DO YOU WANNA PICK UP THE SLACK THOSE BASTARDS LEFT US TO TRY?!”

“WATCH YOUR TONE, THEY'RE GONNA SCREW OUR JOBS IF YOU KEEP IT UP!”

You're aware.

Sudden stomping that made him flinch, smells that made him want to choke, motions he couldn't control, so many voices yelling back at one another, it was too much. It was too damn much.

he just wanted it all to STOP-

“STOP!”

Everything went still. The voices would stop. His breathes would be heavy as he opened his eyes, his face would feel complete. He would feel complete.

But it wasn't with light in mind, frustrated tears cracked from his eyes as dizziness took over him. He felt so overwhelmed, he didn't want to feel this, everything was so overwhelming.

The people around him would notice this sudden burst from him, their quite shaken by how he was able to speak so soon, from their expectations at least.

But one of the people would walk up to him.

“You there, worry not. Ignore them all, you're safe. You're alive.”

He’d pause as he observed this human slowly got close to him, like if he was a bluebird ready to scratch this human out of feeling threatened, but he didn’t when they placed their hand on his buffer as they kneeled down to face him. The warmth that cracks through the cold of the night.

It would calm him down a bit as the tears on his face started to dry up, the fresh tears that came in would be wiped away by this person.

“Easy, easy. I’m Emrys, I’ll take care of you with all these other folks.”

As if he’d just processed the thing Emrys had said before what he’s said now, he’d look him in the eyes.

“.. Alive?”

“Quite, you’re quite alive right now, you’re more alive than Lloyd over here.”

One of the people behind Emrys would stare daggers at him, another of them shushing this person as he opened his mouth to seemingly throw jabs at Emrys.

“You have a bright spark, like the evening stars that watch us above in the sky.”

He says as he gestures up to the sky above, he'd look up as well, seeing the sparkling sky above through the skylight.

Even if he couldn't see it much, his eyes would widen in awe at the stars above. It was gorgeous. This has to be one of his favorite things right now, the stars.

A smile would form on Emrys’ face seeing his reaction, then as he stood back up and turned around to face the people behind him, the engine would be mesmerised by the stars above. Not taking his eyes off of it.

“Christ, wait, what do we name him?”

“Well he's a lad, why don't we call him a lad? He's got the fire of one!”

“Can we not refer to him as ‘Stephenson's Rocket?’”

“That's akin to calling someone ‘the Son of God’, it feels most inappropriate and it’s quite the mouthful to pronounce.”

“Well then. Any more suggestions from you two?”

Even with a conversation starting up, he wouldn't pay any mind to it as he watched the stars above slowly move, though connecting the stars together that formed a silhouette.

He'd flinch a little as he felt the sudden light stomp of a foot on his foot plate, then hear the creak of his firebox be opened as coal is shoved into it, to which he would calm down a bit.

But he wouldn't take his eyes off the sky, not even for a second.

“Hey, Rocket,” A person would step in front of ��Rocket,’ snapping his finger at least twice to get his attention. 

“Lloyd don't-”

“Rocket, Lad, how would you like a name?”

 His eyes would widen a bit in surprise, focusing his vision on this ‘Lloyd’ person.

“A name?”

“A name, something that would be exclusive to yourself. Something that others can refer to you as.”

He’d dig into his thoughts, trying to find a conclusion as to how he feels about this.

But with how Lloyd explained it, it was like seeing mini stars. It sounded great, and he was great too!

“Yes, a name!” He said with a grin, to which Lloyd chuckled softly at his reaction.

“Well then, lads, let's give this Rocket of the Century a name!”

Lloyd cheered to the others as he stood up from his knelt position, the ‘Rocket’ smiling even more at the positive atmosphere. Though murmurs would echo through the shed.

“Bringing up earlier, what do we name him?”

The murmurs would echo even more now that's been said, the Rocket would be confused at this sudden shift. Though Lloyd would clear his throat.

“So, how about Stephen? A short cut for Stephenson's Rocket.”

“Stephen,” Stephen repeated to himself in a whisper, it sounded nice, very nice. He liked how it sounded.

Murmurs of agreement would die down as people agreed with Lloyd's suggestion.

“Stephen, now that's a true lad's name.”

“Indeed it is, very fitting for a terrific engine!”

“Sounds good enough! Let's call him that!”

“I like it!” The young Rocket beamed with a bright smile in the cloak of the night, the people inside would be entertained by his reactions, like an energetic child finding the jackpot of trinkets to fidget with.

Stephen liked the people around him in the shed, even if they fought with eachother (like earlier), they all looked so happy to be here. He was happy as well.

Happiness was all he could hear, the sounds of laughter and conversations filling the room. It all would block out most of the sounds from the outside.

The warmth in his boiler would grow even warmer as the night went on.

He liked the stars and his new name. And now adding on the stories the people around him started to tell him.

Stephen. The creation of L&MR, winner of the Rainhill Trials, now blessed with sentience alongside a name.

Stephen, Stephen. 

STEPHEN!

——

“STEPHEN!”

Stephen would nearly jump off the rails hearing someone yell out to him, reversing into the buffers behind him with a slam.

He had just gotten back to Ulfstead Castle after being brought to Arlesdale for an exhibition, it was nice to see the miniature engines after a while yes, but it tired him out to an extent.

But at last, there would always be something going on whenever your on Sodor.

And as he looked in front of him he realized the voice would belong to Millie, who’s face went from pure joy to worry as she saw his reaction, he would let out a soft chuckle.

“Well that's one way to wake up an old locomotive such as myself.”

“Stephen I’m so sorry, about waking you up-”

“Ah well, you didn't exactly wake me up, I was already awake just dozing off. So it's alright.”

Though as Millie was about to say something, she would decide not to as she felt someone step out her cab to which Stephen would smile warmly at.

“Good morning to you, Sir Robert.”

“And a good morning to you as well, dear Stephen!”

He would beam at Stephen as Millie reversed a bit, holding onto his phone. To which Stephen would raise an eyebrow at noticing it.

“So, what's with you both being so excited?”

Sir Robert would clear his throat.

“Well you see, Stephen, there's been news of a new steam engine.”

“Wait, didn't you tell me this a year ago?”

Sir Robert chuckled softly at Stephen as Millie felt her fire start to flare up again, and he'd just be more confused than ever.

“Sir, I already know that, what are you on-”

“The new steam engine was finally brought to life Stephen!” Millie revealed as she rolled forward a bit, enthusiasm filling her tone of voice. To which Stephen's eyes would widen in shock.

Sir Robert would start to explain more about the newly awakened steam locomotive and how they were doing, Millie would add on more information she recalled as he did, though Stephen on the other hand.

Everything would go still for him.

It was already shocking enough they had bothered to go with the thought of building a new steam locomotive in this century, and after a year of being complete yet without a soul, he had thought they left his locomotive to be a fully operational replica.

But no, no they didn't. They kept going. Just like other steam locomotives, they kept going, and that inspired people to keep the legacy of steam alive.

And for this locomotive to be the same class as a long gone class, lost to the history books and now revived because of them, it was the most unexpected thing to happen in his life.

This locomotive, Tornado Peppercorn, was built from the belief to keep a legacy alive. Carrying the torch to lead the next generation of steam locomotives alongside that Evening Star.

It- It was overwhelming to think that this is reality, but in a good way.

“They're alive?”

[thatcheeseycandle]

//I HAVE COMPLETED THE LITTLE COMIC (to those who saw the first post about this I deleted, I FORGOT TO ADD IN THE TEXT FOR ONE BIT-)

HI HELLO I PRESENT SOME CASTLE COURT SHENANIGANS AKA ULFSTEAD CASTLE ENGINES DOING ULFSTEAD CASTLE THINGS!!

(PSSTT THIS POST IS ALSO INSPIRED BY THIS POST BY @/thebunnylord !!)

[thatcheeseycandle]

🌳 Henry

🌳 - (Character) sleeping under a tree

Okay I might've gotten carried away with the colors and lighting while doing it, but yup here's Gentle (somewhat Grumpy) Green! :D

[thatcheeseycandle]

T2024: Day 15, Stars | TC-LRAU

That could've gone as messy as it did, but for the record, it shouldn't of had happened. It's been said to not let those two be in the same environment, or else that would be the result. Right?

Either way, she’s just grateful that they were escorted out of there, back to the museum, but it still worries her. She’s heard from Nadi how they feel about Scotsman, yes, but honestly she didn’t expect them to act on it so suddenly, especially during an event such as this.

Though they did have a point when bringing up his actions as of recent. She couldn’t blame them, they were quite questionable. Questionable in a way where those sort of things happening to an engine such as Scotsman felt nerve wracking. 

And it was also odd on how it even happened in the first place. It wasn’t right, how could the NRM let such a thing happen if it did happen? It felt impossible, honestly, and if it did happen Truro or Coppernob would’ve known about it one way or another. It felt wrong to let it happen, and even the thought of it felt wrong. It felt out of place.

Was it to deceive or was it unfaithful reality? Perhaps she’ll have a chat with Henrique about it. Though for now, her mind was mainly set on Nadi. 

She cursed Scotsman under her breathe as she glanced over to where she saw him and Gordon would speed pass through, her mind drifting off to the memories of the Flying Scotsman in his 2000s overhaul, otherwise known as the Decade Overhaul. A time where most of it went down hill for him and for Nadi.

Recalling how neglectful and suspicious he was, oh that little shit–

“Evening star, what a surprise,” a voice came from behind her, cutting off her train of thought.

“Ah, hello Ms. Lode Star.” Evening Star

“I thought you would’ve accompanied my fellow Great Westerns in the Museum at York, even more seeing as I’ve heard the fifth King’s attitude has not withstood time as much as he’s claimed it to have.”

“Don’t say it like you haven’t started to age a little yourself, Lady Lorraine. I myself have heard what you’ve been up to from those diesels,” she jabs back at her. “But, I’m also getting to that point in age as well. We’re all growing old and the only way to go through it is with acceptance.”

Lorraine would give an acknowledging hum to that as she looks to where Evelyn had, spotting the engine that had just arrived starting to form up a little crowd around them.

She couldn’t see the nameplate as clear as she would’ve liked to, but she could identify that this engine was most likely one of those Southerners, specifically a School class with how the smoke deflectors and running board looked.

It was certainly another surprise considering she was not told that there would be any other Southerners arriving in the exhibition here other than the ones that have already arrived.

Perhaps they were the surprise that was supposed to come later in the day, she’d have to have a word or two with this engine to find out.

But Evening Star on the other hand, she just couldn’t help but let her thoughts about Nadi keep flowing in like a tsunami.

Considering their history and relationship with Scotsman, they would not let it go as easily as most people would think. It concerned her, what if Scotsman says something out of hand like the last time? What if Nadi starts a scrap with him? At least one or two people, both engines and human, will get hurt in the process if ever.

Lorraine looked over to her as she noticed the thoughtful expression on Evelyn’s face and couldn't help but inquire, "You seem deep in thought, dear Evelyn. What's on your mind?"

Evelyn sighed, glancing over at Lorraine. "Just thinking about Scotsman and all the trouble surrounding him lately. It’s been quite the whirlwind, hasn’t it?"

Lorraine nodded sympathetically. "It certainly has. I’ve heard bits and pieces, but it seems the situation is more complicated than some of us had realized."

"Indeed," Evelyn replied. "The tension with Nadi and the sudden actions during the event.. it's all been a bit too much. Scotsman’s behavior has been questionable, and it’s causing a lot of unrest."

Lorraine looked thoughtful for a moment, pushing aside her opinions before fully understanding the situation. "Do you think it is something that can be resolved? Or is it one of those things that will just keep simmering beneath the surface?"

Evelyn took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "I honestly think we need to address it directly. Maybe it’s time we sat down and had a proper discussion, clear the air. Nadi’s been holding onto a lot, and it’s practically eating away at both of them."

"I can understand your concern," Lorraine said thoughtfully. "But perhaps it's an opportunity to address these issues head-on. Sometimes, facing the problem directly can bring about resolution."

Evelyn smiled slightly. "I was thinking the same. But it’s not just about the past grievances. It’s also about setting a tone for how we move forward. Scotsman needs to understand the impact of his actions, and Nadi needs to ."

Lorraine nodded in agreement. "That sounds like a sensible approach. Communication is key in these situations. And you have my support, Evelyn. We’re both in this together, after all. Don't you recall that night?"

"Thank you, Lady Lorraine," Evelyn said after a while, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. (Or footplate-) "It’s good to know we have each other’s backs, especially concerning Nadi unlike most engines. Let's hope we can find a way to give both of them a satisfying conclusion to their long lasting tension."

Lorraine gave an encouraging smile. "We will, Venus. Sometimes, it takes a bit of turbulence to find smooth tracks again. And remember, it’s not just about Scotsman and Nadi. We all need to work together to keep the harmony." Evelyn nodded, appreciating Lorraine’s wisdom. "You're right. It's a collective effort. Maybe we can set up a meeting with everyone involved, create a space where everyone can express their feelings and concerns."

"That sounds like a brilliant idea," Lorraine agreed. "And perhaps we can also include a neutral party, someone who can mediate and ensure the conversation stays productive."

Evelyn’s smile grew. "I think I’m looking at that someone right now, don’t you think?” She remarked, getting a soft chuckle out of Lorraine.

As they shared a moment of mutual understanding, the vibrant atmosphere of the museum seemed to lighten, a small but significant step toward resolving the underlying tensions.

With the Great Western’s support, it lifts her spirit, Lorraine always proves time and time again she’s as loyal as she was when they united as true friends for the first time.

[thatcheeseycandle]

Okay I FINALLY FINISHED IT

No one knows who you are

They don't know you could never forget

You've got so much to regret

Soul of Steam - leo.

Anyways it took me awhile (due to other things I had to do) but I'm glad I finally FINALLY got to post something on time, so HAPPY 4/4 TO THE galloping sausage aka shooting star THE ICONIC NUMBER 4 HIMSELF!!

[thatcheeseycandle]

T2024, Day 18: Water | TC-LRAU

“Just keep running, keep running!”

Running was all they could do, no matter how hard it was raining or how rough the terrain was.

They were tired, but they had to keep going, they couldn't stop now while being so close to their goal. They needed to do this, he needed to do this, for his brother's sake.

If he couldn't save his other siblings, at least he could try to see if it was possible with this one by saving him-

“Agh- Fuck!”

“Aye, language! Esther, slow down- what's wrong?!”

“Sorry, sorry. My leg got caught by a damn branch.”

He'd let out a sigh of relief as he helped Esther up from the ground, particles of dust and soot sprinkling on the ground as it was brushed off by him.

As they picked up the pace of their speed again, Esther would drift into his thoughts.

This part of the forest began to be taken over by moss that climbed from the little river through the slope that led to it and vines coming from neglected trees that are the stonewalls to this mystifying palace of tranquillity.

It was sad, he could just recall so clearly how the creek looked beforehand.

Long back in .̶̖̭̽̀̅-̸̘͖͔́-̵̡̬̺̬̏͐-̷͕̆̾̚-̸̳̃̏͘ ̵̱̭̮̰͐͗͆͘-̶͛͛̈́͠ͅ-̸̢̰͎̬͗-̵̉͒̏̏̚ͅ-̷͖͚̎̊͐͋̕.̴̻̜̈́ ̸̢͉͎̇̓͗̕.̴̫̓̑̈́͊̚.̸̭̼̕.̴̪̭͇̥̟̓̾̎͘.̶̪͓͆̕.̶̮̠̩̀̀ͅ ̴̭̩̻̙̓̿́͜.̵̥͐.̸̪̙͇͚̀̊͂̚-̵͚̤̯͍̃-̴̻̞̼̻͙̈͝͠-̷̢̟̽̄̌͘ , him and Cesar were introduced to the once peaceful area by Ernes and that Sparrow Hawk lad during a little holiday break before getting back to work for the rest of the holidays that year.

Well, more on the fact they used that time to also get a break from all the ‘direct rumours’ that have been circulating about the Peppercorns, thankfully Sparrow had the decorum to not harass any of them and still has it up to this very day, since the last time he saw him that is.

They’d ask their crews to bring unique books and food, then bring those items near a tree where they’d have a picnic of sorts, doing all kinds of things.

Like say, venting about problems in their life or exploring more into the creek before returning to that spot to rest. Bonding with each other.

Though if not under the cool blanket of leaves above, it would be on the ledge that was above the slope leading to the river below, facing whatever was on the other side that was separated from them. But honestly, he just missed those days.

And speaking of that cliff side, as he glances to the side, his eyes widened as everything started to slow down.

The vines that used to hang over the overgrown branches seemed to have been cut as grayish vines layed on the ground beneath it lifeless, a clear path forming, it sent chills down his spine. He had his suspicions on whatever happened there, but he'd push it into the back of his mind. He can’t worry about the creek now.

As he started to dive into his thoughts passing by the entrance to that spot, his ears rang as he stared at the ground. He has to worry about themselves.

He has to worry about Morg-

“Fff- FUCK THEY'RE HERE!”

“Where, WHERE??”

“BEHIND US!”

He'd tackle Esther behind a tree as he heard footsteps starting to get closer and closer, covering his eyes as he closed his own, using his free hands to subtly grab a rock to then throw it behind the tree hopefully towards the entrance of the pathway.

Hoping it landed where he wanted it to as he heard a high pitched thud from behind him.

Knowing that wretched man, he didn't know they'd catch up this soon. He locked the door shed, he planned this ever since engines have been going missing, he had all the materials packed for emergency, all he needs to do is go back for everyone else after he gets Esther to safety.

As he clutched onto the strap of the leather satchel tighter, he could hear the footsteps get closer. Then there was a pause.

The footsteps would get closer, then a bit farther, then repeat. Then finally, they'd get farther and farther.

This would ease the two's stress as Esther's trembling would ease down and Mor-

“Morgan, are they gone?”

He'd whispered softly as he gently grabbed Morgan's hand off of his eyes, breaking the silence that filled the forest.

Opening his eyes with caution as his golden eyes glowed between the cracks of them, he’d look around the forest as it stood in the same solemn silence he's had the chance to hear only a few times.

It was the same silence that introduced him to the creek when he had once stumbled into it one early morning on a strike, he remembered it like it happened just yesterday, wandering around in his new humanoid for the first time then suddenly lost control of his speed because of the wind picking up, it was a memory to look back on whenever he needed a good laugh or story to tell.

“Morgan.”

“Yes?”

“Are they gone, the guys?"

As he took a glance behind the tree he leaned on, then returned back to his previous position as he looked back at Esther.

“Well we’d be bloody fucked if that was the case.”

“Okay, yes, you’ve got a point there–”

Morgan would suddenly grab his wrist before standing up, making Esther stand up as well as he recollected his balance, nearly making Morgan and himself tumble but managed to regain balance.

Though as Esther would take a step, Morgan would stop him as he stepped onto the dirt path out from the forest-y bit.

As Esther watched him look around, he’d hear something from behind him. Turning around, he saw nothing, but it got louder.

He recognised it, it’s the same sound he heard around the Great Westerns, that soothing sound of the wind whistling as it crawled through thick dark forests. But then it would be paired with ringing, ear ringing. It’s happening again.

This shouldn’t be happening, this can’t be happening now. Not now. He knows he should be aware for anything that may come, but the ringing got louder and louder-

Hearing a thud behind the tree, he’d snap back to his senses as he looked behind it. His eyes widened at the sight he was witnessing happen in front of him.

“Get your bloody hands off me, you prick!” Morgan would grab the man’s forearm as he slammed him to the ground, his chest heaving with each breath as he spotted Esther from the corner of his eye. “Esther- ESTHER RUN!”

As he ran to the right path while picking up his speed, it would soon slow down as another worker tried to lunge on him, dodging the attack swiftly before he turned and ran to the opposite direction behind him.

He'd run as fast as he could to anywhere he could avoid them, he's not going back, no, he isn't. He can't go back- not now, not after all the effort!

He's seen his siblings disappear one by one, he's witnessed Jasper’s demise, the actions of that wretched man, that corrupt society. He needs to tell the public eye of what they've done to them, for Morgan, for everyone.

But as his train of thought snapped, he realised he went on the wrong path as he stopped himself before he nearly ran off the edge, looking down below where the slope lead to, it was a river. Well shit.

As he backed up from the ledge, his neck would be grabbed by a hand as he was slammed onto the ground by someone before his wrist would be forcefully placed behind his back, though that pressure would be released as he heard a loud thud with a slight crack.

“You bastards don't stand a chance against us Peppercorns!”

Morgan bellows out as he slammed the man's head on a rock as blood started to flow onto the rock, staining it and the ground with a reddish tint that became more saturated as a trail of crimson flowed down from the side of this man's head. 

Though as Morgan took a glance at Esther, adrenaline would rush through his veins.

“Esther- ESTHER DON’T JUMP!”

“IT’S THE ONLY SAFE WAY OUT!”

“No- no it ISN’T! WE’RE TOO HIGH UP, AND THE SLOPE IS TOO STEEP!”

“HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?!”

His eyes would narrow towards the ground with a gaze filled with guilt as the confusion on Esther’s face faded from that to realisation.

“Eastern, I can explain, please-”

“Is that why Valerios didn't return the last time you visited this place?” Esther croaked out with a saddened gaze towards him as Morgan looked up to him.

Before Morgan could respond, two men would tackle him onto the ground as particles of dirt stained his clothes, the strap of the leather bag snapping off as it would be thrown to the side.

He'd try to aid Morgan as he ran to him, but before he could get close a man came from behind to which he’d immediately back up as he cornered him. Fear would flash in his eyes as he held something, the few rays from the sun that was near to setting shining onto it.

Though, seeing that, it wouldn't take long for him to recognise it to be a knife as they got closer and closer, to which he'd slowly cautiously back up each inch they got closer.

On the other hand, Morgan would be restrained by his arms as he winced at the pain coming from his legs. Though he kept struggling against the iron grip he was restrained by as he got even more desperate by every minute.

Esther's eyes looked around, trying to find a way out. He couldn't go down the slope, he couldn't go into that thick of a forest, he can't even go against this strong of a man! 

But then, as he got the closest he's been to the edge of the slope, the man would start building up his speed as he raised his knife-

“BACK THE FUCK OFF!”

A bruised Morgan would punch the back of the man as he lost his balance, ending it off with another punch, but this one was to the face as a bruise formed on the man's face, the man now unconscious on the ground.

“Esther RUN!” He called out to Esther as a bruised crewmember would grab Morgan into a chokehold.  Esther tried to run, but every turn seemed too risky to take. Everywhere wasn't safe. It's been like that for years at this point.

The atmosphere would start to fill the air with a suspenseful wave of silence.

Though the familiar feeling of the wind picking up would send shivers down his spine, breaking his train of thought as he felt the weight from his torso go to his legs then to his feet. He would try to balance himself as he felt the ground soften, making him panic even more.

Morgan would notice this, but before he could help, another one would help the man as he and the other crewmember shoved Morgan to the ground managing to restrain him yet again.

As much as he struggled, he could not get out of the men's grasp as his legs had ran their limit. Well, at this point, his whole body has ran it's course.

Though soon enough, Esther would thankfully regain balance. He'd take a glance at Morgan as he stepped forward-

Suddenly, a loud bang ripped through the air, echoing through the space like a burst of thunder.

The sound was sharp and piercing, like nothing anyone had ever heard before and yet it was so familiar. For a moment, Morgan froze in place, the two's hearts racing with the sudden jolt of adrenaline. 

It took a few moments for the realisation to sink in. 

As Esther felt his breathing be more laboured with every breath he took, he’d look down at his hand as he moved it a few inches from his chest, then look back at a now horrified Morgan.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he struggled to form words, his voice catching in his throat as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

His lips quivered slightly, betraying the storm of emotions roiling inside his, and he took a moment to collect herself before speaking. The act of speaking itself was a battle, each word a struggle against the urge to breakdown completely.

A gunshot had been fired.

“.. Morgan.”

“Esther- ESTHER!!”

And as much as Morgan wished he were the one to be the target of it, unfortunately, Esther was the target of it.

As Esther started to lose balance, a golden liquid starting to mix with the silvery crimson as it bled through the wound of where the bullet came through, the echo of the gunshot still hung in the air, a haunting reminder of the violence that had just unfolded.

Morgan’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Esther stagger near the edge of the cliff trying to regain his balance out of desperation, his hand clutching his chest where the bullet had struck.

“ESTHER!” He cried out, his voice raw with desperation. He strained against the iron grip of the two men holding him back, their hands digging painfully into his arms.

Esther’s eyes met his for a fleeting moment, filled with a mixture of pain and resignation. He took a faltering step backward, his balance wavering. Morgan’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of his helplessness.

Then, as if in slow motion, Esther’s body tipped over the edge. Morgan’s scream tore through the air as he watched him fall, his arms flailing in a futile attempt to grasp at anything that might save him. The river below, dark and churning, seemed to open up to swallow him whole.

The splash was almost lost in the roar of the water and the pounding of his own heartbeat.

He was too horrified by the sight he witnessed to move an inch of his body as he saw Esther’s body start to break into golden dust bit by bit from where the bullet shot through.

Cracks would appear on his face and hands each second as some fingers cracked off as they evaporated into gold dust then mixed with the water, taking one last look at Morgan above with what was left of his face before it fully broke into gold dust.

All that was left of him was the golden liquid that came from the gold dust and water mixing together before it faded out, going down where the river was heading off to.

The men released their grip, and Morgan collapsed to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He stared at the spot where Esther had disappeared, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a physical force. 

But then more tears poured out like a water leakage in pipes as he spotted a figure in the distance, on the other side, his ears would start to ring, he eyed this figure as the sun shined on them.

From what he could guess through teary eyes, this figure would look like a workman, most likely an engineer or an engine’s stoker from how knocked around they looked, but then it felt odd. 

It felt off because they had a uniform similar to a driver’s one, like say a midlander’s uniform before the war but cut off some of the jewellery.

Then his eyes would widen as even more tears started flowing out slowly like a waterfall, realising who this truly was as his gaze flashed with ire while his body stood still. 

His heart beats getting faster and faster with each beat.

As he took as glance at the gun this figure held in their hand as the arm that held it was outstretched, lightly trembling, he’d look at the face that was exposed by the beam of sunlight that shone through the cloudy atmosphere above and the fog that started to return as it slithered on the ground around the land.

“You-.. You deceiver,” he hissed under his breath as his lungs felt like they were soon to collapse on him.

“You BETRAYER! CLARK YOU FUCKING BETRAYER!’

The world around him seemed to blur, the only clear image the memory of Esther’s final, desperate glance.

That was all he could recall before he felt himself fade all of the sudden like cotton candy making contact with water, his vision going black.

——

He awoke to the sensation of people climbing out of his cab, their footsteps echoing loudly as they hit the ground. Each breath he took grew lighter as he regained consciousness, but his emotions surged faster as he realized where he was—and more importantly, who stood before him.

“You sick bastard, you SICK BASTARD—” he yelled, his voice dripping with anger and disdain.

“Quiet down, 60145. Do not use such tones while addressing your superiors.” A voice replied as a familiar silhouette came into his view, their tone cold and authoritative.

“It’s Saint Mungo to you, you superior piece of bullshit.” Saint Mungo shot back, his defiance clear.

“And last time I checked, I was the one who saved you from becoming fused with the rails you work on.” The figure remarked, his voice laced with smugness.

“And what about my siblings? If you’re as superior as you claim, and have the power to save me, why don’t you save them?!” Saint Mungo demanded, frustration and desperation evident in his tone.

“As much as I’d love to, it is not the easiest task to complete, 60145—” Thompson responded, feigning regret.

“Absolute bullshit. Unlike those innocent engines you exploit, Thompson, I can easily see through your charade.” Saint Mungo retorted, his voice steady with conviction.

Thompson chuckled before his soft smile faltered into a disappointed frown.

“Hm, very well then,” he said, letting out a tired sigh. With a snap of his fingers, a pair of workers climbed into Saint Mungo's cab. Something clicked inside.

“What—What the hell are you on, you madman?!” Saint Mungo's voice trembled with a mix of fear and anger.

“Unlike your siblings, I actually saw potential in you. But you’ve made me realize I was terribly wrong.” Thompson's tone turned icy and disappointed.

Saint Mungo’s fury grew as Thompson continued, “You already did a good job eliminating Great Eastern from what I heard. So, I’ll leave you be, since you’ve already been used enough.” Thompson's words were sharp and cutting.

“Wait—WHAT THE HELL?!” Saint Mungo shouted, panic creeping into his voice.

“I suppose you’ve proven a point. If I’m not able to save the rest of your class, I might as well not waste my time any further.” Thompson stated, his tone dismissive.

“Sir Peppercorn will hear of this! You will NOT get away with this! You WRETCHED SON OF A BITCH!” Saint Mungo screamed, desperation and fury blending in his voice.

“You may call me all the names you desire, but in the end, 60145, your words will be the ones to fade away.” Thompson replied calmly, his voice dripping with finality.

“No, NO! I WILL NOT LET THIS GO, YOU HEAR ME?!” Saint Mungo's voice echoed, filled with hopeless rage.

“So long, Saint Mungo.”

[thatcheeseycandle]

//Okay it's time for some AU discussions

So basically my minds apparently been laser focused at trying to sort out TC-LRAU and now I've just fully committed to it. But the problem is, I don't know how to tell it's story considering it's just a "another day in the world of trains" type of AU but with my own twists.

Thankfully theres a poll option here, so let me ask this question:

(Yes I'll make it a week so that the results are gathered up good)