#The Ghosts Of Sodor

[b1anketplask]

The Ghpst Engine !!

I finally designed him!! It was very fun to design ghost engine >:)

Ghost mod hehehehehe

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 9 - Viaduct

The Viaduct has a Story Behind It:

The Maron Viaduct stands as a testament to the Sodor and Mainland Railway’s poor financial decisions, stretching across the gorge between the town it’s named after and the rails to Cronk, the remains of a failed attempt by the old railway to build a railway to connect the island’s capital at Suddery to Barrow-in-Furness on the mainland.

The company had agreed to a 75-25 split with the Wellsworth and Suddery Railway on the other side of the gorge to build the viaduct, paying a massive lump sum of money they did not have to begin construction on what they believed would be the company’s salvation.

Neil disagreed. He saw the bridge for what it was: a vanity project by desperate men. “Too big to fail” they said. Neil wondered if they would ever come to regret those words. They certainly didn’t seem to mind when the bills kept piling up. Every other week, it seemed like something was going wrong – though in the beginning, they barely noticed.

At first, it was just tools vanishing in the night, small enough that it was not essential to the construction site and able to be written off as petty theft – but then, a stick of dynamite went off by itself. Neil wasn’t sure why they even had dynamite – he was told it was to remove boulders deep in the gorge; he thought that it should’ve been kept down there instead, and not up with the rest of their supplies.

An entire hut filled with tools went up in flames, the explosion sending debris shooting across the work site. Neil was just thankful it had happened in the late evening, when he had been leaving the site with the workmen. The men were shaken, but unharmed. Neil hurried away with the coaches, not wanting to look back.

He wasn't quite sure what he was going to see. 

The next week, a line of trucks Neil was shunting were diverted onto a siding leading to the edge of the gorge, a coupling snapping when the little engine tried to brake the train to a stop before it all went over. Three trucks kept rolling, and despite Neil whistling a warning, not everyone could get clear of the trucks before they went hurtling over the edge. They smashed down the side of the gorge, splintering and fracturing and shooting shards of wood everywhere, while their contents scattered out over the river. Mangled pieces of metal and splintered wood came raining down. 

Four men lost their lives, leaving Neil assaulted with nightmares that had his boiler run dry when the stars glinted high above them in the sky.

And yet it did not end.

The crane broke, more dynamite went off. The rope basket carrying tools and men across the gorge snapped, sending the basket crashing into the gorge, smashing to smithereens against the jagged rocks below. Every single time, Neil willingly turned a blind eye, and every night, Neil sat awake in his shed and wondered if it was worth praying to the human god. There was something deeply wrong with that gorge. 

Stories began to circulate, of the figure of a man who just wasn’t there. He wore clothing of the previous millennia, and he screamed and cursed at the bridge from afar. The men swore they saw him, standing just at the furthest point of the gorge visible to the railway. Neil felt an uncomfortable presence around the site – he felt like an intruder. They were not wanted here. 

The Wellsworth and Suddery Railway pulled out of the agreement. The losses were mounting, and the Elsbridge tramway was offering a far more lucrative offer for amalgamation and tunnel building to a harbour on the far side of the island, in the Irish Sea. Skarloey said it was a place called ‘Tidmouth’, and that somewhere on that side of the island another little railway ran, with an engine almost as old as the pair. Neil didn’t believe him – the terrain on that side of the island only grew rougher, less habitable. The shepherds who took their sheep into the foothills to graze said it was impassable, that the only way up to the Ancient City of Peel Godred was through the valley – but the people of Peel Godred refused to sell their land to the S&MR to build up that way. They said that it was old land, full of ghosts and demons borne of heretics cursed to forever wander the earth in search of a salvation that never came. 

Neil wondered if the figure the men saw in the gorge was one of these ghosts. From the way he acted, he could have been a demon. The fire that broke out and burnt the supports to ash and brought an entire pillar crumbling down was testament to that. 

Still, the S&MR refused to back down from this folly. They continued trying to stretch their viaduct across the gorge, even as the bills rose ever higher. Tools continued to go missing, dynamite exploded and damaged the blocks, trucks moved on their own, derailing and falling into the gorge.

And then, it happened.

Neil remembered being there, that silent night. He’s been ordered up to the construction site to drop off a line of trucks, to replace the ones filled with waste that had derailed and blocked half the line the night before. As he approached, he noticed a thick column of smoke blast up into the night sky.

“There’s a train coming on the other side,” his driver noted. “But the W&S said they weren’t going to run beyond Maron,” Neil replied slowly, peering into the darkness.

An engine rounded the bend, face white as a sheet and eyes wide with horror. Fire was bursting out on all sides, and on the footplate stood a man in clothing from nearly a millennia prior, cackling with glee as the engine roared towards the gorge. The poor engine looked as though he was on a one-way trip to the underworld, and he screamed and pleaded in horror; the man in his cab refused to respond. 

Neil could only shut his eyes and try to block out the explosion that came from the engine’s boiler rupturing and crumpling on impact. An entire section of the bridge shattered, crumpling in on itself and burying the destroyed engine. 

They finally stopped trying to build the bridge after that. The costs had grown too steep, and both the S&MR and the W&S could not afford to go near it. The rails were ripped up, and the remains of the structure were left to fade away. The two companies met similar fates: The W&S was merged with the TK&ER and bored a tunnel to Tidmouth, while the S&MR declared bankruptcy, and sold off all its assets. Both companies were decimated by the events of the construction of the Maron Viaduct, leaving little but their histories and their rail lines behind them…

At least, until the admiralty bought the three railways in 1915 and began construction once more. But before they could, they unearthed a skeleton nestled in the river at the base of the gorge, preserved in the sediment built up by the rushing water. He wore the tattered remains of what may have been a Viking and looked as if he had been attempting to crawl out of the water when he succumbed to his fate.

They moved his remains to a parish at Wellsworth; and performed several rites over the bridge before beginning construction once more. Neil stayed well away – he knew it wasn’t safe.

Today, the Maron Viaduct stands tall and proud over the gorge; and inscribed in its pillars is a single name, written in runes no man can read. No one knows how they got there, nor does anyone know what they say. But it’s said, if you touch the viaduct at the very moment the sun dips below the horizon, you will meet a ghost, who will impart on you your fate.

Neil refuses to go near the viaduct and discover if the legend is true. 

And it's a good thing he does... 

Back to the Master Post

[bruhstation]

CASA TIDMOUTH’S MOST NORMAL AND RELIABLE RAILWAY WORKERS: THE GHOSTS OF SODOR

[information under the cut:]

General Information:

They were humans that died and got sent to the Shining Time World, however because they weren’t given enough gold dust they became ghosts instead of revived humans.

The less gold dust they have, the less powerful and more transparent they are.

They don’t physically age nor can they be hurt by regular humans. If someone struck them, they’ll just wobble and disperse, then reshape back as normal. Only ghosts or beings/things affected by the gold dust (other ghosts and time travelers) can touch them.

Some of them are still determined to become human again (like looking for gold dust resources or thwarting Thomas’ missions), some don’t really care and makes the most of their situation, some had accepted their fate and just want to move on to the afterlife already.

They can only go to the blissful afterlife if Lady prays for them or the Golden Whistle is blown by any human – two long whistles.

When they disappear and move on for good, they turn into gold dust. Oh, how convenient!

Their eyes, tips of hair, underhair, and fingernails are golden and glow. Their scleras are grey. Their eyes are also sunken with notable eyebags. They leave faint golden particles when they move.

Timothy Elijah [Lastname]

Age: (Physically) 25 (Chronologically) ??? Occupation: ???

He has a very kind and gentle personality. On top of that, he also very patient and gets along with everyone. He has a strong sense of justice, and is determined to get back at those who wronged others. He can be stern and serious when the situation calls for it, usually at Alfred whenever he plans on getting humans involved in his selfish plans or at the Troublesome Trucks whenever they’re going too far with their pranks.

Out of the main ghosts, he’s the one who rarely talks about his past before becoming a ghost. Nobody knows how he died, nobody knows about the people he left behind. Despite his pleasant and friendly nature, nobody really knows who he truly is outside his name. He’s also quite different from most ghosts – seemingly not minding the fact that he’s a ghost and not pursuing ways to become a human again. Though, it seems that he has a connection with Thomas, but what could that possibly mean…?

Trivia:

He can be quite protective when it comes to younger, easily excited railway workers.

He likes using similes while talking.

He tends to treat those who are usually made fun of or shunned by their peers with kindness, which is why the Troublesome Trucks usually spare him from their pranks.

He believes that ghosts are not allowed to interfere with the lives of humans. Quite rich, coming from him, for he always does everything he can to make sure humans aren’t hurt by other ghosts.

He has a habit of patting people’s shoulders when reassuring them or giving them support.

He’s one of the stronger ghosts.

Likes: the nature of humans, the sight of busy roads Dislikes: injustice, self-centered people

Alfred

Age: (Physically) 29 (Chronologically) 98 Occupation: NWR 98462’s driver

He’s incredibly rude, unpleasant to talk to, and self-centered. His main goal is to look for a way to become a human once again. He claims that he died at a workplace accident, though people who are perceptive such as Timothy is able to see through his thin words. On top of that, Alfred holds little regards towards the lives of others and thinks that as long as it’s beneficial for him, it’s perfectly fine for others to get harmed.

Behind his bravado, Alfred seems to be wary – even frustrated – at a certain man who drives the NWR 2. He states that the man “knows too much” and “conceals even more”, and this just fuels his desire to become a human again to be able to stop him.

Trivia:

His last name is Middleton.

He dislikes Timothy because his kindness and gentle nature towards others makes him uncomfortable.

The Troublesome Trucks despise him oh so much.

His favorite word is “schadenfreude”.

Likes: himself Dislikes: being a ghost, people who are too kind, romance novels, the driver of the NWR 2, himself

Godred Asheton

Age: (Physically) 27 (Chronologically) 47 Occupation: CFR 1’s driver

He’s quite proud of himself and his engine. He’s also incredibly reckless. He was named after a famous Sudrian king, and his brother comments that it became a source of his pride when he later found out. He rarely takes the words and warnings of others seriously, believing that he can always get out of trouble – which has been proven true always… until he got into an accident in the rocky mountains.

Around a month after he got a job in the railways, when making a turn down the mountains, he couldn’t control the speed and flew out of his cab onto the ravines below. His engine and its coach are safe, however his body couldn’t be found until the events of Casa Tidmouth. He has expressed desires to become a human again, but as time passed he starts to think that it’s useless. No matter how much he repented or wanted to move on to the afterlife, nobody is there to send him off.

Trivia:

He has a twin brother, Culdee. He sometimes wonders how he’s doing nowadays. He wants to apologize to him.

He used to be a thrill seeker.

Likes: reading random warning signs on the railways, Ovomaltine Dislikes: heights

Sadie

Age: (Physically) 18 (Chronologically) 100+ Occupation: railway worker

Part of the infamous Troublesome Trio. One of the many, many Troublesome Trucks. She likes playing practical pranks on various railway workers just for the heck of it. She thinks that living as a ghost is fun because she can get away with almost anything. 

Trivia:

Her real name is Sadrakhia.

If one were to crack her outer shell, they would find out that she’s quite the thoughtful person. This is only reserved for her closest friends, though!

She can be quite the crybaby when things don’t go her way. This usually resulted in Mason and Abed coming to her defense.

Likes: Mason, Abed, cute things, singing, strawberry parfait Dislikes: ugly things

Mason

Age: (Physically) 19 (Chronologically) 100+ Occupation: railway worker

Part of the infamous Troublesome Trio. One of the many, many Troublesome Trucks. He likes playing practical pranks on various railway workers just for the heck of it. He’s loud, brash, and very impolite, especially towards older people. Even though he likes to playfully tease Sadie and Abed, he’s rather protective of them.

Trivia:

His real name is Maschach.

He can get rather riled up when it comes to watching football matches on the TV.

He has quite the short fuse.

Likes: Sadie, Abed, fun things, pushing engines harshly, “jumpscaring” workers Dislikes: rules and those who abide by it, grown-ups

Abed

Age: (Physically) 18 (Chronologically) 100+ Occupation: railway worker

Part of the infamous Troublesome Trio. One of the many, many Troublesome Trucks. He likes playing practical pranks on various railway workers just for the heck of it. He’s usually the one getting dragged into Sadie and Mason’s plans, though. He’s also kind of quiet and soft-spoken, though he’s far from being “naive”.

Trivia:

His real name is Abednego.

He likes drawing or carving small things on various surfaces. This includes engines.

At hard times, he has quite the sharp tongue.

Likes: Sadie, Mason, tidy things, making limericks Dislikes: people who talk too much

[putuponpercy]

Cryptic sighted

[hi-my-name-is-cosmopathy]

Quack, quack, quack :>

Small facts about Duck in different AUs!!

I was actually considering making him the main character for the revamped BWBA. But uhh I'm still thinking about it and I'm pretty sure his dilemma about wanting to go somewhere was solved decades ago.

In all his human forms, Toad is the one who gives him his black bow.

In Railway Miracles, he has family issues regarding the Great Western legacy. In the main story, his beliefs are challenged at some point when he starts feeling homesick and a mean great Western engine comes to Sodor. He did overcome this tho.

Duck's and Diesel's encounter will be rewritten in these AUs.

In Ghost Pals, he had a cousin named Liam. He...doesn't know where he went.

In human versions, his “waddling” is a result of a physical birth defect.

He's not one to make up morals in the Great Western name, but in SOS From Sodor he does once. “No man shall ever resend his friend until the end”. And he did. He did.

He was the one who eventually found Douglas in a snowy mountain when he went missing in Duskytracks. He was scarred from what he saw and told everyone to never go up there.

Toad is the one who does his hair often.

I like subverting shoot sometimes so in some versions of my AUs, Duck may be a little head over heels for Donald

(Don't worry he just really likes him)

Okie thas it

(@monstroso , @bruhstation , @beumdi , @hkpika07 , @verypsbfan019 a few others were inspirations for this design)

[joezworld]

Mountain Spirit

Traintober 2022 Day 4 - Spirit

 Summary - Culdee Fell was a lifeless rock, until Godred fell down it.

-

The Mountain was never given much thought. Its snow-capped peak towered over the land in such a totally dominating way that the Islanders thought that not even God could have put it there. It was, as more than one man put it, “bigger than life, and older than sin.” It had always been there, and was about as lively as, well, as a rock. 

Man often wondered if the rest of the world was alive. After all, so much was already; animals, plants, machines, and so on. It made a comforting amount of sense, to assume that one was not alone in their own world. Natural events, such as storms and floods, growth and bloom, were all attributed to some form of life. Gods created thunder, encouraged the plants to grow, and responded positively to prayers and sacrifices. 

In some theologic structures, everything had a god, no matter how minor, while others simply believed that there was a spirit inside each and every thing ever put upon the earth. 

On the Island, however, divinity was not something the Islanders put much stock in. 

Yes, in some years, a rain dance may bring a good harvest, or a standing circle would appease the river spirits and prevent flood, but just as often, the harvests would fail or be lean, and the river would burst its banks anyways. To blame this to any number of gods, or just one for that matter, seemed almost foolish - what were they, humble farmers and fishers, doing to attract such attention? 

Until the Catholic & Anglican churches came, many years later, the gods were relegated to idle gossip, the mental wanderings of the terminally superstitious. Orry, King of the Sudrians, slayer of the Manx, and Starstrider of legend, was closer to godly status than any rain shower or bad harvest. 

So, as they lived their lives, The Mountain was never something that occupied their minds for very often, in the same way that one does not actively contemplate oxygen or gravity. It was merely there. It was never anything beyond that. It wasn't alive. It was never a god.

Much like divinity, early Islanders did not put much stock in the concept of “because it’s there.” The Island would produce many great warriors, men of industry, fishers, farmers, scientists, and vicars, but few explorers would come from those whose lineage stretched to the time before King Orry’s wars. The mountain, with its imposing snow cover, high winds, and enticingly easy-to-climb faces, would remain unexplored until the age of Queen Victoria. 

When Man eventually came to The Mountain, Machine was soon behind him. A small line of narrow steel, the first of several, stretched towards the Mountain and the settlement at its base. Man soon found that the peak of the Mountain had never been surveyed, and charged forth with abandon, much to the bemusement of the Islanders. 

Man returned, starry-eyed from the incredible sights He had seen. It must be shown to the world! He cried exuberantly. And we can charge for it!

Only after improvements had been made, of course.

It was not feasible, Man argued, to walk to the beauty of the summit. A better solution must be found, He said. 

And so there was. Men, accompanied by animals, slowly trekked their way up the Mountain, a triple ribbon of shining steel in their wake. They reached the summit shortly after the turn of the new century, and introduced Engines to the uncaring, unfeeling, un-living Mountain. 

The Engines were young, and brought with them all the foibles of the young - arrogance, cowardice, ignorance, blind courage. They rolled up and down that mountain with no care, no thought, no knowledge of the danger that the Mountain posed them. That the only thing keeping them in the land of the living was a sextet of metal-on-metal contact patches the size of a sixpence. 

It was an ignorance that would last a scant month. 

-

In years to come, the now-eldest of the Mountain Engines would lie, and say that Godred had survived his final trip down the mountain, and due to lack of funds, was parted out over the following years, giving his life for the others. 

That lie was based on the idea that there was any Godred left to salvage. 

-

Men said a short prayer - to whomever they thought was listening - and carted away what little remained. Godred watched them go. 

He was aware, in a quite detached nature, that he was dead. 

What do I do now? He asked himself, not sure of the answer. 

He tried the sheds, drifting down the mountain and through the walls like… well… like a ghost. His fellow Engines were silent, sad, in some cases weeping. They couldn’t see him, and after a short while, he departed, feeling altogether worse about his situation. 

He missed his passengers, and drifted about the platforms next. 

But they were shut. 

“CLOSED DUE TO UNFORTUNATE ACCIDENT” read a sign posted on the station door. 

It was unfortunate, he thought. And remained, hoping that one day the People would come back. 

After half a season, it became clear that they might not. Godred felt sad, and slightly guilty. It was my fault, he thought, and he left the station with the first snow. 

Despondent, he drifted up and down the mountain until the snow left, not sure of what to do with himself. Eventually, he came to rest at the top, near the summit station. The winds whipped and howled, but he paid it no notice for many days. 

Eventually, the snow melted, and the clouds began to part each morning. He watched as the sun shined through him each morning like he wasn’t there. Each afternoon he drifted around the station, trying to remember what it felt like to be full of life. 

One morning, before the dawn, he thought he heard a whistle, deep in the valley. The wind had grown especially cruel recently, making strange sounds as if punishing him for ignoring it, so he pushed it out of his mind. 

Then it came again, much closer this time. 

The sun rose over the mountain. Man and Engine alike said it was one of the most beautiful sights in all of God’s creation. 

Godred didn’t care. To him, there was nothing more beautiful than seeing a workman’s train climbing up the mountain. 

-

Just a few days later, the first passengers arrived at the top, and Godred nearly wept in joy. I hadn’t ruined it all! He cried, although nobody could hear him. 

-

That night, as the last train left, and the sun slipped below the horizon, Godred felt at peace for the first time in his death. As darkness spread across the land below, he closed his eyes, and slowly began to descend, not down the mountain, but instead into the rock itself. 

-

The mountain had no life of its own. It had never been alive, nor had it ever taken one. The first to die on its slope had been not Man, nor Beast, but Engine.  

As the Engine descended through the rock, He understood. 

The mountain was now a graveyard, of one. 

And every graveyard needed a guardian. 

Godred and The Mountain ceased to be separate, and instead became One.

-

Many decades later

Culdee and Catherine sat at the summit station, very shaken. Nobody else had noticed, as they ascended the Devil’s Back, the tremble in the rails. It wasn’t the wind, or a shake of the ground, but instead the rails very much giving way. They’d sounded the alarm (screamed it, really) and cleared the section in record time. Alaric and the workmen had come all the way up with the Truck, and they’d found that a rail had snapped completely in two. 

“I don’t want to alarm you any further,” The permanent way foreman said over the radio. “But if you’d been a touch longer you’d probably have torn the gripper rail out of the sleepers and gone over.”

The driver, fireman, and guard all collectively thanked whatever god they held dear, but Engine and Coach knew better. 

They had started tipping. The gripper rail had come off. 

-

“What saved us?” He asked Catherine, as they sat outside the Summit station much later that night. 

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “We almost ended up like Godred…”

“Don’t remind me…” He didn’t particularly want to contemplate tumbling all the way down the Devil’s Back. 

For a moment, all was silent, before a particularly strong gust of wind picked up, whipping its way past the two. 

Don’t worry Culdee, Came a voice that seemed to be carried on the wind. I’ll keep you safe. 

All the water in the Mountain Engine’s boiler might as well have flash-frozen to ice. “Please tell me you heard that.” He pleaded to Catherine. 

“Yes.” The Coach’s voice was scarcely a whisper. “What-who- was that… him?” 

“Godred?” 

The wind seemed to laugh for a moment. “Yes. I’m here. Always.”

And then it was still once again. 

Try as they might, Culdee and Catherine couldn’t help but believe what they heard. 

And every night after that, before they went to sleep, they looked out at the mountain, and somehow knew that Godred would keep them safe. 

[tatsunokoori-blog]

Ttte Headcanon #7

Lady is not a real engine, just as things like goblins and magic dust aren't real.

That same notion does not, however, apply to ghosts, and there have been sightings and auditory evidence of haunted parts of Sodor, particularly near the Standing Stones and older places like the Narrow Gauge lines.

Even places like the sheds have their share of spooky happenings, but because they're so busy, no one really gives them too much mind.

[mak1lol]

A late halloween Post

I wish i can do something better for halloween but yesterday was very bussy for me and i want to finish this halloween post as soon as possible so yeah....

Comic was inspried by @oldirontender

[ryan1014n2]

Wait, wait please. I scrolled by your post about Duncan × Rusty's ghost engine. Now I need to ask: do you think the ghost engine(s) is/are real? Like for ex. Rusty's story. Do you think Rusty was talking about some engine they heard of, or maybe they made it up but it was actually true? (unbeknownst to Rusty) Sorry I hope this makes sense

This has been sitting in my inbox for a while (sorry, I've been a bit busy recently!) but I just rewatched Duncan Gets Spooked and yeah, I do think the ghost engine is real.

I think Rusty had heard the story somewhere before, thought it was made up, and told it to Duncan, not realizing it was a real thing that had happened.

While we're on the topic, I'd like to direct everyone's attention to Adeline the Phantom Engine, a YouTube series which answers some of these questions in its own way. I highly recommend it!

[hazel-of-sodor]

Fanfic release!

Ch.1 of my first Fanfic- Guardian-is now up! On a cold midnight run, Thomas and his crew are thrust into an unexpected quest to help a fallen engine complete its final run.

 Ao3 Link here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40594077 via @ao3org Google Doc

 here- https://docs.google.com/document/d/1vIZlw_ysOUKOecmfLsRcPVaQf2WUXUtFGVSoInarOOk/edit?usp=sharing

[b1anketplask]

Golden days.

Here's Redward and his child Timothy... hope their happiness lasts a long time (Of course it didn't)

[weirdowithaquill]

So if the first Fat Controller is a ghost, does that mean there are other ghosts on Sodor?

Yes. So many. Though it depends on if you want all my Traintober fics to be connected to one another and then again to my ERS. Cause there are ghosts in my ERS too!

As for on Sodor - well, I'd say one or two from the MSR, Godred, Sir Topham Hatt I, a few of the pre-grouping engines from the S&MR, W&S and KT&ELR, maybe a couple pre-railway ghosts (definitely)...

I mean, Sodor is the sight of the Satanic Standing Stones after all!

[bruhstation]

gramps.... grandpa.... mr hiro D51.....

[littlewestern]

Flying Scotsman X James

Oh, I really love this actually.

Because this is the perfect logical extension of James's little crush on Gordon, right? When James comes to Sodor, he immediately starts trying to suck up to the engine with the most influence. Getting in good with the biggest and most important guy on the railway affords you more leeway with fuckups and opens up the potential for better jobs down the line. I don’t think he went in with the idea that any of his admiration toward Gordon would be genuine, just that it would be believable enough for Gordon to eventually respect him.

Unfortunately, James is the kind of guy who ends up believing his own bullshit if he repeats it enough times.* It sells the performance, certainly, but it also means that when Gordon insults and rejects him (as he does all engines because no one is Good Enough For Gordon), it actually hurts! Badly stung, James recoils and walls himself off again, just like he did on the L&YR.

Except those feelings don’t go away by magic, right? He still thinks Gordon is big and strong and kind of cool even when he does get whapped in the face by Sodor Karma. He can try to counter it by teasing him all he likes, but it ends up just making their relationship seem kind of hot-and-cold. One day they’re getting along fine, the next, James is telling him he’s so fat that he broke the turntable. Grade-school crush behavior if I’ve ever seen it.

Then along comes Flying Scotsman, and. Wow! He’s like Gordon+. All of Gordon’s best attributes, but More and Better and Cooler.

Unfortunately for James, Scotsman’s standards are still quite impossible for him to reach and this can only end in rejection again. On the flip side, Scotsman is probably used to turning down would-be admirers by now (everyone wants their moment with a Famous Engine), so he’s gotten quite good at letting them down easy.

“It would never work between us. I have to travel all over, it wouldn’t be fair to *you*.”

Well. You can’t argue with that logic. I actually think this probably cures James of his crush for good, so he can focus on more important things. Such as missing the platform at every station like it’s his job.

* - See: the time he told Percy an explicitly made-up ghost story, and then scared himself into thinking it was real. Also see: any time he’s ever said anything about himself, ever.

[hi-my-name-is-cosmopathy]

Hi everyone! Based on @bruhstation 's thing with Gordon, I decided to make my own :D

Oh and uuhh this is info is mainly applicable to Ghost Pals and SOS From Sodor lol (and a lil bit of HFOD)

(P.S, these designs were inspired by @bruhstation and @hkpika07 and possibly a few others)

Greendon

Gordon in his younger days

Covered in soot and dirt with his nerdy glasses

Had shoulder length hair that usually got tangled and rough because of work. Sometimes when he was being picked on they would pull it.

Wore green for resemblance to Scotsman.

Had eye bags due to overworking.

Gordon (Early days on Sodor)

He became a new man when he arrived on Sodor.

Ditched the glasses and used contact lenses and got a brand new outfit.

He cut his hair short for reasons...

Sodor outfits in the early days...when the numbers were pendants on ties...

No more eye bags :)

Gordon (Later on and in Enterprising Engines)

Gordon but he's going through ✨ character development✨

You can see that he ditched his fancy outfit

Number 4 clip

His hair started to grow but he couldn't make or find the time to cut it

Small eye bags because of depression from dead siblings hu hu hu

Gordon (Present Day)

Gordon “Majestic Hair” Gresley

“Damn I can't believe you spent years cutting your hair even though you actually look good in it” <- Henry

Character development :')

He's still a jack4$$. Maybe it's just who he is...

Finally let his hair down and grow

Final version on Sodor outift; Numbers on the arm

He didn't like showing off his number before because of jokes that he's below Thomas, but he's changed since.

[joezworld]

Electric Evil

Traintober Day 12 - Poltergeist

So, for context here, I stole took inspiration for most of this from the Extended Railway Series on the Sodor Island Forums (not for the first time and not for the last), and as usual, I've put some tweaks on it to make it better. #humble

Here I based a lot of this on ERS Novel 2 - The Peel Godred Railway, and while I recommend reading that, it's not required for this.

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Summary - The DC Electric Line dies a violent death, and something rises out of it. Godred keeps it off his mountain.

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1 - Nature

Those who believed in such things thought the very Valley was having its revenge on the rails.

It was not an entirely unreasonable belief. The Valley had not been consulted, nor did it want, the input of Man on how to conduct itself, and yet Man imposed his viewpoint anyway. 

The first rails to reach the fortified Peel of King Godred was a small one, coming from the western coast. They were not of issue to the Valley. 

Their small line worked with nature, inching along tight cliffs, running around mountains, and poking through gaps in the rock. Their service was first-rate, and the Valley’s People could soon move both themselves and their goods to markets far away. The Valley might have even enjoyed this - if one were to put stock in those sorts of beliefs - and caused no trouble for the second railway. 

The second railway only touched the Valley on its edges. Its rails ascended The Mountain, reaching for the heavens. It courted the mountain, edged along it, never daring to defile it. The Valley paid it no notice, even as The Mountain slowly but surely became One with the rails.

The third railway, however, did not please The Valley. Its rails charged northwards, up to the base of The Mountain and then beyond, caring more for the River than it did for the Valley. This was a slight, but one that the Valley was willing to overlook. 

What the railway brought with it, however, was an abomination. A massive blight on its natural order. A huge, noisy, dirty, stinking industrial plant that took ores from outside the Valley and processed them into Refined Aluminium, leaving equally huge piles of filthy, dirty, stinking refuse as a waste product. 

The Valley disliked waste. It disliked aluminium, and by extent, it disliked the railway that served it. Its dislike grew as the first railway suffered and died as a result - their careful and meandering path to the sea was too small and too slow, and they lost even the most loyal passengers, slowly siphoned away by the bigger rails.  

If the Valley disliked the railway, then the River was furious. The construction of the plant required massive amounts of Electricity, a new and unwanted evil that required nothing short of total damnation of everything around it, as a sacrifice.

Up and up the dam went, towering into the air until it seemed like it might touch the sky. The River raged, furious at having its path disrupted. The Valley seethed at the itching feeling of the huge structure. 

During all of this, the Mountain was ambivalent. Man had lived here for hundreds of years - it was them who had ascribed life to the Valley and the River, and had built the Mountain Railway. To live in Harmony with them would be better for all involved, it soothed.

The Valley ignored the Mountain, and the River flooded its banks in displeasure. 

Then Man fully damned them both. The huge concrete and earth structure was complete, and the River was soon fed into it. 

And into it

And into it

And into it

Until there was no longer a River and a Valley behind the concrete, but a massive lake, made purely for man’s needs - a total damnation of nature, as a sacrifice at the demonic altar of Electricity. 

The railway that ran up the mountain was powered by Electricity. Now tied together in both circumstances and rage, the River tried to flood it, and the Valley tried to collapse the land around it. 

Man was multitudinous, and whenever they tried, a hundred men, or a thousand, would arrive, and right their wrongs. 

The Mountain chastised them. Are they not Of This Land? It asked as the two cursed the railway, the plant, and the Men who worked on them. Are they not worthy of our care?

No. Responded the Valley And The River. They tried again, but Man stopped them. 

And again.

And again. 

Man simply persevered, expanding His mind through the concepts of “reinforcement”, “retaining walls”, “flood prevention”, and “embankments.” By the end of the first decade, the River was in check, and the Valley was unable to continue its crusade. 

While the Mountain watched with concern, River and Valley waited for a time to strike. 

They needn't have bothered; the denizens of the rails retaliated against themselves. 

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2 - Steel

The Valley Railway has had two lives - the second is still being lived, but the first died a long and unhappy death, done so by its own buffers. 

Man was inexperienced in the ways of Electricity - they knew not how such technology would apply to the field of steel wheel to steel rail. They brought in a set of locomotives three - one of each power type, and named them for the Lakes around the Mountain that fed the River. 

Loey Machan - The strongest and largest. An express locomotive with delusions of grandeur, his line had sold him after the line he was to lord over was cancelled. Instead of a fresh start, he thought the Railway to be an exile - banishment from his own personal Kingdom of Heaven, thrown instead to the wolves and the sheep and the peasantry - who were altogether worse than the beasts. 

Poll-ny-Chrink - The middle engine. Neither the smallest or the largest, she was the youngest of a family of coal haulers, sold off during unfavourable economic times. Hard work was in her very being, and she arrived fairly aglow at the prospect of more challenging duties. 

Dubbyn Moar - The runt. Tiny even by the standards of the time, she was surplus to requirements - a third engine on a ¾ mile horseshoe of a line that did well with two. She knew her position and size acutely, and would’ve had self-consciousness issues on even the kindest railway. 

This was not the kindest Railway. Tucked away in the valley, far from notice of Men with Hatts - obsessed with Steam as they were - they worked alone, in the long shadows of the Valley, their complaints silenced by the rushing roar of the River. 

Left to his own devices, Loey Machan felt that he needed to re-establish his dominance by any means necessary. In the long shadows and loud silences, he turned himself from a fallen god into a tyrant king. 

Slowly, with equal parts bad luck, stupidity, and sociopathic insidiousness, Loey ground down the cheer and stability of his fellow engines. He believed that by turning them against themselves, he could engineer some kind of fiefdom, where he ruled over his serfs with an iron will. 

Instead, he created an emotional horror show, with himself at the center. 

Dubbyn Moar, now known as Maude, was his first target. He exploited her weakness, her doubts, and her size. Convinced of her own uselessness, she became moody and withdrawn. The engines of Steam and of Mountain, who knew not of what was going on behind their turned backs, assumed she was but a misanthrope and labelled her “Miserable Maude.” It soon became a self-actualising name. 

Poll-ny-Chrink, nicknamed Polly, found herself alone in the world. Gone from a family of loving 11 to a hateful group of 2 drove her to the edge. As Loey pushed Maude to new lows, Polly drew into her own shell, believing the whole world to be as cruel and miserable as Loey claimed it was. 

Finally, there was the mad king himself. Loey Machan was too stupid to understand the danger he put himself in, and too cruel to contemplate it if he was. In his quest to be the leader of a line where he was already “E1”, he drove away any emotional stability, any meaningful relationships, any hope of having friends. When he finally declared himself “King”, one sleep-deprived night during the war - where a stray German bomb “nearly” demolished him, he was already gone. In declaring himself King, he believed his own bullshit: that the world was cold and cruel, and the strong must crush the weak. 

Loey was at his peak in that moment, and although he didn’t realize it, it was lonely at the top; nobody arrives alone and remains sane.

-

Far away but yet so close, the Mountain watched with concern. It could do nothing to help the Railway, and so merely kept the engines on its Railway as far from Loey as it could.

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3 - Starstrider

Peace almost came to the Railway. 

In the late days of the sixth decade of the twentieth century, an engine arrived on the Railway. He was strong, contemplative, quietly charismatic, and surplus to the mainland’s requirements. The Men In Hatts - different ones, still obsessed with Steam, but in a much more frantic way - recognized his ability to calm the demons that plagued the Line. They thought that there were three such problems, not realizing that exorcising Loey would purge the evil from the rails. 

They named this new engines after one of the greatest warrior kings in the Island’s history - Orry,  he of the famed Ogmudsaga. Said to bring peace and security to the Island†, the Men hoped that the engine could do the same. As he was prepared for his first train, they quoted a historical text. “Starstrider had arrived.”

And arrive he did. 

Sure of mind, free of heart, and generous with patience, the great Starstrider worked hard to undo what had been done - he brought happy news of one of Maude’s sisters surviving into preservation, and helped Polly through the guilt of being the only one of her kind to live. 

With each passing day, the Starstrider brought more joy, and banished more fear and hate. The silencing roar of the river no longer covered hissed insults and vague threats, but brash laughter and cheery jokes. Smiles were common for the first time in decades. 

Loey was furious. He had become so high on his own supply that he had forgotten that his castle had been built atop sand. A king that rules through fear will inspire fealty and obedience. A king that rules through respect will inspire loyalty and love. 

To borrow human expressions, Maude and Polly wouldn’t have pissed on Loey if he were on fire, but they would have triple-headed a train with Orry through the gates of hell.

Naturally, the Tyrant King of the Valley could not allow this to stand. His castle began to slip, the mortar cracking as the sand shifted underneath it, and he worked like mad to keep everything as it had been.

Orry matched him wheel-turn for wheel-turn, and it seemed like he would eventually besiege Loey’s castle and send it tumbling to the ground, freeing Polly and Maude once and for all. 

Privately, the engine with a saint’s patience and a king’s heart even hoped that Loey himself could be brought kicking and screaming into the light some day.

But it was not to be. 

One rainy night, on the front of a heavy double-headed train, Loey failed with a pop and a bang. Was it really an accident, or was it more? No one will ever know for certain. Polly was insistent, perhaps at Loey’s urging, or perhaps her natural stubbornness, and the heavy train set off with her alone leading it.

It would never make it to the bottom of the line.

Halfway down the Valley, the train overcame the brakevan on a steep hill that ended at a sharp curve. A double load of aluminum ingots ran wild, and the train ended in a mangled pile between the rails and River, with what was left of Polly at the bottom. According to the tear-stricken Men who told Orry, forty cars worth of ingots had come loose and acted like buckshot through an animal - there was truly nothing left, other than shredded metal. 

For Orry and Maude, this was a loss the likes of which they had never felt before. Polly was theirs, in every way that could possibly matter, and sudden destruction like this… was pain indescribable. 

Then there was Loey. 

Somewhere, deep inside his faltering mind, two wires that had no business being near each other crossed and sparked. In a moment of soulless and cruelty-laden pseudo-genius, he took this as a positive - claiming with sociopathic bombastity that he was fated to have avoided the accident. That the accident would have happened regardless of who had been pulling, and his exclusion from Polly’s horrible demise was simple and undeniable proof of his betterness. He was invincible. He was eternal. He was a god! The proof is right here!

There was, for a brief moment, true and total consideration on Orry’s part of figuring out a way to kill him, but Maude’s already fractured emotional state shattered like glass before that could happen. As Starstrider worked to rebuild his promised peace and security, the Tyrant King was banished to the top shed, deep within the plant’s shunting yard, well away from everyone else. Inside there, his miniature Saint Helena, he planned and he plotted ways to escape, to make his triumphant return to His Kingdom. 

Locked away, inside the little shed that was barely bigger than he was, kept busy with shunting work in a yard that was bright even in the darkest night, and isolated from the line by a tunnel connecting the plant and top station to the rest of the Line, Loey Machan went quite mad. 

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4 - May Day

As Loey went mad, and Orry worked to fix what could never be, the Valley and the River plotted. 

There were many lakes that fed the River. Over the years, Man had defiled and damned them like they had done to the River, mostly for sport fishing purposes. One of these reservoirs, known as Corloey, was directly in line with the largest of the many damnations - the one that powered the horrible stinking plant and the Railway.

It was a natural reservoir, and Man had done little more than reinforce what was already there, but they had done that nearly 60 years ago, if not more. The reinforcements were primitive, and had destabilized the layers of soil and clay that had held the hills together for millenia untold. 

Working together, well out of the Mountain’s sight, the River and Valley worked together to weaken the bonds between clay and soil, until something eventually gave. 

On the first of May of the seventy-ninth year, the clay and the soil separated. Thousands of tons of dirt, trees, grass, and soil crashed down into the water of the Corloey reservoir. Its banks burst almost instantly, and fifty feet of water roared along the cackling River, down the gleeful Valley, destroying all in its path. 

The dam was strong - far stronger than it had any right to be  - and as the water hit it, slightly weakened by its mad charge down the miles of Valley, it held. 

But it was only so tall. 

A blue wall surged over its top like the waterfall from hell, and erased everything in the Valley below from existence.  

The Peel of King Godred was saved from the worst of it - the great King had built his keep at the top of a small hill, surrounded on all sides but one by steep Valley. It was in that Valley that the River ran, as did the Railway, which tunneled under the town rather than skirt the edges like the River. The Plant was there too, and the dam. When the water destroyed all but the dam, the city survived - the annual May Day fete meant that even the citizenry were in the town square, and they watched the water surge below them. 

For a brief moment, Orry had given a sigh of total relief when the reports came in. Loey was not allowed around passengers, and with the May Day traffic biased towards people and not freight, the Tyrant King was likely gone - destroyed under unimaginable tonnes of water as his yard was erased by the hand of God. 

Then the rescue train returned - a stranded passenger train behind it, powerless after the wires went dead. It was not Maude who was uncoupled, but instead the Tyrant himself. 

She failed, He explained, his shock already wearing off, insanity already taking its place. I was beseeched to take her train for her. Last I saw of her, she was in the yard.    

In the yard. 

The deep emptiness that opened in Orry’s heart that day would never truly go away, and his indomitable spirit finally broke as he listened to Loey prattle on about divinity and invincibility. Words were shouted, threats of murder issued, and the two Kings were separated, each one foaming at the mouth. Orry declared himself done with Loey, and the Island in general. The Man in the Hatt granted his transfer to the line of his brothers, and Starstrider departed, his spirit broken. 

Meanwhile, the Tyrant King was jubilant. He’d driven off the interloper and reaffirmed his claim as King of this line. In his mind, power was all that mattered; The fact that he ruled over naught but dust never occurred to him. 

They eventually reattached the wires to mains electricity, and the Tyrant King was allowed to roam his empty kingdom, shuttling trains of refuse from the reclamation site at the tunnel portal to the junction with the main line. By all accounts, these were the happiest days of his life.

Meanwhile, at the Mouth of the River Tid, the Man in the Hatt made a choice - the dam would be rebuilt, the plant as well; that much was out of his control. The dam owners had offered him a choice: keep the frequency of electricity that flowed through the Line now - one that was out of date and falling out of use on the mainland, or upgrade to the Standard Frequency of the Future?

If Loey had been the one reduced to scrap under the water, and it was Orry and Maude cleaning up the mess, the Man may have changed his mind - might have kept their Direct Current. 

But all that was left was the Mad Tyrant King. 

The order was placed, to a company in America, for Alternating Current equipment, the newest available. 

Loey’s days were numbered. 

His power was, quite literally, about to be turned off.

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5 - Sic Semper Tyrannis

Loey found out about his forced abdication, and reacted accordingly, frothing at the mouth and howling invectives at anyone and everyone. Men soon avoided him altogether, afraid of straying too close to his drooling maw - being eaten was a suddenly real fear. 

Eventually, they turned the power off and left him on a siding - steam engines were infinitely better than an insane electric, and the final days of Loey’s life were spent hurling powerless insults at Scottish Twins who said worse to each other in loving jest.

Like Polly and Maude before him, Loey’s life ended violently and suddenly - the Ninth Engine was storming away from the rebuilding site, a heavy train of spoil and waste behind him, and a thick cloud of smoke and swears above him. There was a sudden snap, and the unbraked train parted at a broken coupling just behind the tender. Twenty-five cackling and screaming wagons roared down the grade leading towards the yard, the brakeman leaping for life. A quick thinking shunter threw a lever in panic, and the train was diverted away from the works site. Towards Loey. 

The Mad Tyrant bellowed claims about his invulnerability until his last breath. 

The railway sold what was left of him for scrap and used the proceeds to buy clothes for children who had lost theirs in the flood. It was the first time in years that he had been of any use to anyone. 

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6 - Poltergeist

The Valley and The River felt the great evil snuff out. They had been infuriated by the failure of the flood. Clearly another means of revenge must be chosen. Pooling their great power carefully, they reached out, finding the faintest of threads connecting this world to the next, and they pulled.

The Mountain bellowed at them in horror, but they ignored it. 

Slowly, but surely, an evil presence began to become known in the yard outside of Peel Godred. 

It was an evil, machiavellian, scheming, plotting, altogether stupid presence. One that cared not for who you were or where you’d come from. All it wanted was to cause trouble, and re-establish itself as King of the Valley.  

It wandered around, searching for lives to ruin. 

First it tried the city, but as it approached the walls it began to feel pain - an unfamiliar sensation, and it turned and left. It was too idiotic and maddened to see the Norse Runes carved into the city walls glow with great power. 

King Godred may be long dead, but his city he still protected. 

-

Next he tried the rails that led up the mountain. His cloudy memories showed them to be stupid, and quiet, and purple. 

He hated purple things. 

He made it less than a wheel’s-turn onto the Mountain Railway, when the very ground shook. 

Far away, in a university on the coast, a machine tuned for earthquakes started vibrating as a small earthquake rumbled out of the Valley. 

He suddenly found himself flying through the air, as though He’d just been struck by a massive hand. He crashed into the far wall of the Valley, his incorporeal form bending and twisting in pain as he laid there, his infernal power drained in an instant as he tried to stay in this realm. He succeeded, but only just. 

STAY OFF MY RAILWAY

The voice boomed in such a way that every hill, tree, and babbling brook for miles around could hear it. Elsewhere on the Island, other creatures that straddled the line between life and death jumped at the sudden sound. 

The ground shook

The air shook

The very fabric of the veil between the two worlds shook

A sense of massive and untapped power emanated from the mountain, like a piece of heavy electrical equipment coming to life. 

The Valley and the River suddenly knew great fear. 

THIS ENDS HERE

The voice thundered down into the Valley and River. It promised great pain if they ever did so again. 

Godred may have been long dead, but his railway he protected. 

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†Awdry, W., & Awdry, G. (1987). ORRY, KING*. In The Island of Sodor: Its people, history and railways (pp. 109–110). essay, Kaye & Ward.