#railway preservation news

[traingifs]

Jeff "Jdelhaye" on rypn.org forums.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Introducing my newest fictional engine, the LNER I3 class!

In my Au , the I3 was a freight locomotive designed by Edward Thompson.

Following the success of the Gresley P2 locomotives at hauling heavy freights during the second worlds war, a P2 succesor was added to Thompson's standardization program.

The resulting design was a 4-8-4 that utilized many components of Thompson's A2 pacific classes. On introduction they were the largest four non-articulated engines in the British Isles. They were numbered 526-529, and while largely mechanically identical, each was unique styled.

The Prototype was turned out similarly to Thompson's Pacific's and named after HMS Dreadnought, leading to the class often being referred to as there LNER Dreadnoughts.

The Second was named HMS Vangaurd after the Royal Navy's last battleship. She was streamlined in the manor of Nigel Gresley's A4 Pacific's. She was often found serving as an replacement express locomotive rather than pulling goods as intended, much to Thompson's irritation.

The third was Given a streamlining of Thompson's own design. Named after HMS Dauntless, it was quickly found that 528's streamlining lacked the practical effects of 527's streamlining.

The fourth was originally meant to be given A4 type streamlining, but last minute Thompson ordered for P2 style streamlining instead. Officially this was meant to directly compare the I3 to early tests of the P2. Unofficially many thought it was an attempt by Thompson to prove his streamlining superior to a Gresley one. LNER No. 529 rolled out of the shops bearing the name of the Royal Navy's Flagship, HMS Ark Royal. She proved less efficient at speed than 527, but better than 528.

All four would pass into British Rails ownership upon Nationalization. They served late into the Moderinzation Era, with 527 only being with drawn in 68. As LNER Engines were rare by this point, all four would end up preserved in the end. HMS Dreadnought would become part of the National Collection. HMS Vanguard would be purchased by a private buyer, and was presumed scrapped until the 1980s, when she was donated to join HMS Dauntless, who had been purchased by the London New Eastern Railway. HMS Ark Royal would be transferred to the North Western Region in 65, where she remains to this day.

[dredgesnails]

I love to imagine the magic mountain bases all actually existing completely separately from each other in completely different time periods (almost), despite being physically in the same location.

In the ancient world, pyramids are constructed at the base of a huge volcano to honor the dead and worship old gods. A wide path leads to an entrance into the volcano, far enough in that the heat gets dangerous. Inside, sacrifices are made to the gods, to their king, offerings given up for the benefit of them all. The king is kind and forgiving, loyal to his people, asking for little and giving as much as he can. The gods however, are cruel, and all civilisations must fall eventually. For this one it's after a great eruption, one that shakes the earth with all the fury of the gods, that the pyramids become abandoned, left alone for centuries to erode. Over time new life grows, and thick jungles begin to hide the pyramids from view, until eventually, they’ve become a part of the natural landscape. Venture far enough in, however, and you might find remnants of the ancient civilisation: old writing in a language no one knows anymore, praises given to their old king; the remnants of ancient weapons and armour; the shapes of people who once lived forever preserved in ash and pumice.

~

It's the start of the industrial revolution, and rumours start spreading of an eclectic man and his steamrail full of exotic animals from across the globe. He’s a travelling zoo, of sorts, appearing in the strangest of places (as long as there's a railway line, he'll be there), areas it logically shouldn't be able to reach. He’s got all sorts of animals, from dolphins and turtles to strange, mysterious beasts. Where does he keep them all when they're not on the train? Some say he doesn't exist. others insist he does, that he lives underneath a mountain no one dares to visit. It's an active volcano, they say, dangerous to go near. If anyone dared to explore they might stumble upon the largest, most diverse collection of animals they've ever seen, and, most bizarrely, a large steam locomotive that runs on its own railway track, seemingly on a loop through the volcano itself. The tunnel is so dark the train disappears into it entirely. a young exploration group decide to find out for themselves, years later, and at first they think there's nothing there, until one of them stumbles upon the obvious remnants of a railway line, no longer in use but not so old that it's started to break down. Maybe he did exist after all...

~

In the late 1800s, a small fishing community establishes itself by the mountain. Electricity is new, and with the new machines and motors available to them the community quickly grows into a small village. Something is wrong, though. The rocks embedded in the mountain appear to resemble a skull more and more by the day, water streaming from one eye socket as though it’s crying. Underground passages and tunnels are found by the new residents, all leading to strange chambers. There's something in the water. A young man, one of the first in the village, disappears for a month, and when he returns, he's changed. He insists the ocean speaks to him, to everyone through him. He fishes for hours, days, weeks on end. When his madness begins infecting others, most gain the sense to stay away from him, but not everyone does. There's something in the water.

By the mid 1920s, the small fishing village is still standing, although most of the residents from four decades ago have since left. A young woman, traveling alone in her tiny fishing boat, docks at the village in need of repairs. What was meant to be a one night stay turns into days, then weeks, then months, as she begins to notice strange happenings in the village. A local artist has locked himself in his house, gone mad from something he found in the ocean. A scientist is experimenting with strange materials, and sometimes at night strange noises come from her house. There's something in the water. An older man speaks in tongues, driven mad by the sea. There's something in the water. The young fisher sees him occasionally, staring through her, unseeing. She's begun dreaming of ancient monsters in the depths of the water below her, reaching their long arms out and crushing her and everyone else. When she looks into the sea she can't see anything. It’s just inky blackness.

(No one knows how the village gets destroyed. One day it's here, and the next it's turned to rubble, razed to the ground by forces beyond human perception. It appears no one survived, but strangely, there's no trace of the small fishing boat the young woman had arrived in, nor of her body, and if anyone stopped for long enough in the wrecked city they might hear mumbling at night from underground, the mad ramblings of a man who has seen too much.)

~

Magic mountain row thrives in the early 2000s. They’ve beaten the Y2K bug (it really wasn't that much of a problem, anyway), business is booming at all the independent stores, and the local economy is better than ever. It doesn’t matter that not many people want to live here because new tech keeps Big Ron busy, and Willie Jr is old enough to start working at his father's shop, preparing himself to take over the business. The safe storage containers are always a little open, but nothing ever really goes missing, because no new people means everyone knows everyone. A young boy visits his neighbours for the last time before he leaves with his family; his dad's got a better job somewhere far away and they have to leave now, and besides it’s safer not to live by a barely-dormant volcano (it’s not as cool, though). His new neighbourhood has a lot more kids his age, but he can't help but miss the eccentric nature of his old neighbours. He returns to his childhood home twenty years later to find it empty. Most of magic mountain row is empty now, actually. There are a few places still open: Big Ron refuses to close up shop because Willie Jr, who has taken over the business now that his father's passed, still needs his help from time to time. Anyone still living here is merely clinging to a past they remember so fondly they can't adapt for the future. They're happy, though. They’re happy to remain here until it's their time to go.

~

In the not-so-distant future, a dense city is formed on the mountain. It started out as a smaller town, with traditional architecture and shrines dotted around the place, but as technology advanced and society progressed it grew and evolved into towering skyscrapers, holographic billboards, a rail system that winds through buildings and above streets. Elements of the past still remain - lush gardens lined with cherry blossom trees, the old shrines and temples still standing, a mark of the city's history and longevity. The city stands the longest, weathers the strongest storms, grows and evolves and changes, but all must come to an end, eventually. A rumbling in the earth, a once-dormant volcano waking from its slumber. They have the tech to know it's coming, now, so they all flee before it can hit. Only one man stays behind. This is his city. This is his home. He built this entire place from the ground up, and he’s not going to leave it behind. He makes his way to one of the shrines. Praying to his goddess, he leaves her one final offering, and when the ash settles all trace of him is gone.

~

The apocalypse happens in a future beyond our reckoning. A city lies, abandoned by most, on top of the ruins of civilisations that came before. Once a lively hub of activity and tech and innovation, the city has become a ghost town, occupied only by the artificial intelligences that had driven humanity out. They wander aimlessly, mimicking the behaviours of the humans they used to watch and help, protecting the inner core of their city that keeps everything, including themselves, alive. The humans reside elsewhere, in a bunker resembling the old world, with more vegetation and life than the city had despite being hidden underground. The city’s architects reassure everyone that they’ll be able to return someday soon. The one who designed the robots, a man more cyber than human by this point, just needs to fix a few issues with their programming. He doesn’t want to destroy them but he might have to. His partner, who designed most of the city, will need to commence repairs before anyone can live in the city again. So they leave, vowing to fix the city so that everyone can return to society. No one knows they will never return.

[blueiscoool]

Imperial Roman Necropolis Found in Sicily

Archaeologists with the civil engineering company Italferr have unearthed a Roman settlement and necropolis during the construction of the new Palermo-Catania-Messina railway link in Sicily.

Located on a hill overlooking the Dittaino River, this Roman settlement dates back to the mid-1st to the 3rd century CE. The site’s strategic position, offering control over the Dittaino Valley and key communication routes, underscores its importance during its time.

Excavations have revealed a well-organized rustic villa complex, known as a villa rustica, which was central to the settlement’s agricultural and livestock activities. The villa’s central room, flanked by three ambulatories, has been identified through traces of collapsed roof materials. The villa’s remains indicate not only a residential function but also a productive role, likely linked to the region’s agricultural economy. Remnants of pavements and collapsed structures further emphasize the villa’s significance.

To the west of the settlement lies an extensive necropolis with 168 burials, showcasing a highly stratified society. The burials range from simple earth pits covered with tiles to monumental tombs, indicating significant social diversity within the community.

Among the notable graves is a bastum, or mound grave, which contained exceptional funerary offerings, including five necklaces, two gold rings, and a cinerary urn made from Carrara marble.

The urn bears an inscription dedicated to a “Magnus Magister Pecoris,” an official responsible for overseeing sheep breeding, and another inscription mentioning a “dispensator” who donated the urn to the deceased.

Magnetometric surveys to the east of the settlement have identified a possible cult area. Archaeologists found traces of burnt animal bones, ash layers, and alluvial deposits in a natural channel, indicating ritual activities. Among the recovered objects are oscilla masks, bone needles and pins, and a die with an undeciphered inscription. These artifacts suggest the performance of rituals and offerings to various deities in connection with festivals and ceremonies.

Italferr, a company under the Ferrovie dello Stato Italiane Group, has been at the forefront of integrating archaeological expertise with modern engineering practices since the 1990s. The company’s proactive approach to preventive archaeological investigations has proven instrumental in preserving cultural heritage while advancing infrastructure development.

The excavations at the Palomba-Catenanuova section began in 2020 in collaboration with the Soprintendenza Beni Culturali e Ambientali di Enna.

By Dario Radley.

[kiwi-on-ice]

HEYY, love your posts on tt. So I got something really specific I'm looking for. Lately here I've been absolutely head over heels for Cassidy's look in volume 4 of the New Blood comics.

Could you write a fem!reader x Cassidy scenario where they go on vacation at a little cabin in the mountains during the winter (reader's idea), Cassidy shares the coat and a kiss with the reader when he notices they're a little tool cold and then brings them inside to "warm them up" 🤭 (established relationship+ tons of flirting)

Cole Cassidy x fem!reader

Summary: After pleading with Cole for a long-awaited vacation, your ill advised outfit choice means your boyfriend is tasked with warming you up.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+ smut, pretty vanilla for my usual writing lmao, no use of y/n, pussy eating, loads of petnames, also loads of ass grabbing, creampie

Notes: Hope you like it anon! Also i'm not American so typing out the word 'vacation' is kinda weird for me aha.

“Y’know, maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Came the smooth voice of your boyfriend as you got out of the rental car, glancing around with a big grin painted on his features. The dark wood cabin you'd rented for a week looks striking against the crisp white blanket of snow resting on the woodland and mountaintops. Crunching footsteps reach your ears as he comes up to your side and wraps his arm around your waist, letting you relax into his side like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

You’d begged Cole to have a break for months; after Overwatch joined back together he’d been all around the world recruiting new agents, and you couldn’t be prouder of your lover for dedicating himself to protecting the world. However, you’d seen first hand how this workload has affected him, the dark circles under his eyes that seem to get deeper and deeper, the frown lines that seemed to be permanently etched into his face. Reminding him that he doesn’t need to handle the weight of the world alone, you’d suggested a vacation but was met by a dismissive tone. How he couldn’t just leave everyone, there was so much work to be done, what if null sector attacked again? What if the new recruits need his help?

Despite his resistance, you felt the adoration for him increase tenfold at his worrying; gone were the days of the lone gunslinger, caring about himself only. You can see now the positive change in him, although it doesn’t alter the fact he’d been overworking herself for months. So you kept bring it up, suggesting different places until one finally caught his eye. And here you are now, the crisp winter air chilling you as you cuddle up to him, your breath visible in the winter air. Cole however seems eager to look round, grabbing your hand and taking you up to the front of the cabin, his eyes peaking in to the windows.

“Look at this beauty.” He marvels, walking around the sides of the building without a care; no doubt his fur lined coat keeping him warm against the chill in the air but you unfortunately aren’t so lucky. You regret not bundling up, bundling up like he told you, now clinging your arms around yourself to preserve some heat as Cole analyses the cabin.

“Don’t suppose the lake will be good enough for fishin’, still I bet we’ll find some things to do. Maybe that railway we passed, assumin’ they’ve cleared the snow.” He speaks, unaware of you currently freezing to death behind him as he heads to the car to grab your things. Hurriedly you follow him, and just before he pops the trunk, he glances at you.

“Cold, pumpkin?” he asks teasingly with a chuckle, causing you to scoff softly and deflect.

“No, I’m fine. Just a little chilly.” You lie, your breath visible as you speak. Humming, he smirks and steps closer.

“Is that right? Well I’m cold, maybe I’ll take that flimsy jacket off ya’ if you don’t need it-“ he says, reaching for your jacket and causing you to react and slap his hand away.

“Don’t you dare.” You snap quickly, causing a throaty laugh to escape him.

“I knew it, why you refuse to listen t’me is beyond my comprehension angel, so damn stubborn.” He playfully reprimands you. He’d told you to grab a coat, but you didn’t think it would be this cold, so you blew him off. He instead looks down at you, wrapping his strong hands around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. “Lemme warm you up, hm?”

Despite the temperature, you feel heat rise to your cheeks at his flirtatious, before you giggle softly. “Such a flirt.” You mumble.

“For warmin’ up my girl?” he says lowly, tickling your ear with his warm breath. “You wound me, thinkin’ so lowly of me.”

You’re really giggling now, as he undoes his coat and throws it over the both of you. This causes you to huddle further into his broad chest, feeling the heat of his body as he presses you against himself. You sigh happily, your cheek smushed against his chest and your mind clearing. Feeling his fingertips stroke up the expanse of your back makes you happy you both have taken the time to rest here.

His hands wander down to your lower back, before grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you impossibly close, causing you to let out a squeak.

“Cole!” you say with a huff, to which he smirks into your hairline.

“What? Can you blame me? Those jeans should be criminal sugar.”

He punctuates his words with another squeeze of your ass, kneading the flesh and causing you to squirm against him. You slap his arm lightly, pretending to be annoyed but he can see right through you. He chuckles at your antics, feeling you up gently and humming in satisfaction at the way your body feels against his touch. Often he wonders what he did to be lucky enough to get a girl like you, so caring and kind to him...but also goddamn just his type. The way your ass feels in his rough hands, the way your voice sounds as you gasp or tease him, you're just perfect for the gunslinger. He hums as if in thought, before leaning in to your ear.

“Y’know…if you’re still cold, I could always help warm you up.” He whispers, letting the insinuation run up your spine like electricity. Your cheeks warm as you nod slowly, causing him to pick you up with a grunt. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please?” you say with another huff, holding on to him as he takes you inside. You giggle at the way you both look, with him carrying you bridal style into the cabin; almost like newlyweds. You both look around inside, the cabin beautifully rustic in its interior decor. The living area is open plan, with a large comfortable looking sofa facing a baroque fireplace. Kicking his boots off, he feels the fur rug under his feet as he makes his way to the sofa, plopping you down onto it and grinning down at you.

“Why don’t I light the fireplace, then we can really warm up.” He states as moves to mess with the fireplace, figuring out how to light it. Deciding to be a tease, you quickly take your top off, removing your bra and throwing them both on the floor unceremoniously. You debate taking your jeans off, but decide to keep them on after Cole's earlier teasing words, lounging back on the comfy fabric as your boyfriend curses under his breath at the task.

“Damn you, stupid th-“ he stops when the fireplace is lit, grinning in satisfaction. “There we are sugar, nice and warm.”

He turns, and his eyes widen as he takes in your current form. You swear you hear his breathing pattern change as he takes in the sudden sight. Cheeks flushed, he stares for a moment, just drinking in the image of you.

“Goddamn sweetness, look at you.” He praises, the grin still on his face as well as the flushed colour. “Such a little tease hm?”

Rising from his knees, he walks over to you leisurely. His gaze doesn’t even hide that it’s firmly set on your tits, before he leans over you.

“Like what you see?” You tease up at him.

“You know I do.” He murmurs, gently tracing down your neck. “Mighty fine sight you are.”

You go to sit up, before he pushes you back down softly and straddles you. His callous fingers trace over your waist, moving up and groping your tits.

“Thought you were cold.” He challenges, as you arch your back up to his touch.

“I am…you’re helping.” You can’t help but say, gasping softly as he pinches your nipples gently.

“That right? Guess I’ll continue.”

He massages your tits firmly, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. Relaxing against him, you let him take control of the kiss as his tongue runs along your bottom lip.

“Don’t want my girl freezin' on the vacation she pestered me for.” He whispers against your lips, punctuating his words with another squeeze of your tender nipples. Your hips buck instinctively at his attention, causing his hips to pin you down on the sofa. Lips trail from your mouth to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses in their wake before he starts to bite gently, giving you a hickey.

“So sweet…” he mumbles, admiring the mark he left. It always give him a rush, marking you. Seeing the way your skin bares a reminder of the love and desire he holds for you. He kisses down to your collarbones, then downwards further before reaching your chest. With a grin he licks at your nipple and blows cool air on it, reveling as you squirm.

“Cole…” you whine, causing him to chuckle and shush you. He takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. Lavishing your breast with his attention, he then moves to give the other one the same treatment, sucking softly before gently nibbling to cause that delightful gasp from you.

Your fingers thread into his hair, tugging a little as he kisses down your navel to the hem of your jeans. Licking the skin just above the denim, he shifts upwards with a soft grunt before unbuttoning your jeans.

"You sure you want these off?" He asks with a cocky grin on his face, "Don't want you catchin' more of a chill."

You nod, pushing your hips up to allow him to slip the clothing down your legs. "Need you.."

He laughs a little, callous fingertips contrasting with the smooth skin of your thighs. "My girl's always needy f'me."

Using his metal hand to rip your underwear, he takes a moment to appreciate your naked form in all its glory. You can't help but notice lately he's been...for lack of a better word admiring you more and more. The look in his eyes is something new, a new sort of excitement and contentment that never fails to steal the breath from your lungs.

Small kisses work their way up your legs, before he's eye level with your dripping cunt, beard scratching lightly at your inner thighs. "Can I?"

With your permission, he lets out a soft groan before licking a stripe up your pussy. He laps at you gently at first, savouring the taste as you gently run your gingers through his brown locks. Moving his tongue in rhythmic motions, trying to draw out every last breath and moan from your parted lips. He flicks his tongue against your clit, grinning at the higher pitched noise that escaped as he digs his fingers into your thighs. But the need for you takes over, so he dives in to his meal.

"Always taste so good...all mine." he mutters against your heat, almost like he's saying it to himself as he makes out with your cunt happily. Eyes closed, hair a mess, your thighs lightly squeezing his head; Cole Cassidy is sure he's in heaven.

As you start to rock your hips into his mouth, he lets you, laying his tongue flat and letting you take your pleasure from him. His hands gently squeeze your thighs, moaning softly at your juices on his tongue. He starts to move his head, shaking it from side to side slightly to ensure he tastes every inch. The grip you have in his hair gets tighter, the pleasure causing your thighs to start to shake.

As you look down, you notice your boyfriend's hips rocking into the soft fabric of the sofa. Cole's desperation was intense, the sweet taste of your cunt never failing to get him hard and almost leaking in his briefs as he tongue-fucks you to his hearts content. Small grunts surge from his lips, travelling through your pussy and causing you to get closer and closer to the edge.

"Nearly there..." you warn him, and you're met with a soft growl as he double down on his efforts. His tongue dances along your folds before focusing on your clit, flicking and sucking. With that final push, you cum loudly like you know he loves, as he determinedly licks up all that you give him. He pulls away a little, his beard drenched with your juices as he catches his breath.

As he glances at you, sweaty and breathing heavily, his eyes are drawn to the way your nipples have hardened. "Oh look at that darlin', you still cold? Well we can't have that..."

With surprising strength he yanks you in his arms and settles you on the fur rug in front of the fireplace on your hands and knees. Immediately you sink slightly into position, arching your back a little as he hurriedly undoes his belt.

"So good for me ain't ya? Such a sweet girl...my sweet girl." he almost rambles as he rids himself of his clothing, before pressing against you so you can feel his excitement on the back of your thigh. Gently peppering kisses to the back of your neck, he smiles against your skin as you make a content sound. "Gonna fuck ya till you're nice and warm."

With that declaration, he slowly pushes inside with a grunt. "God you're always so tight..." he gets out with a stunted breath, his hands immediately gripping your hips to keep you still. He savours the sweet sensation, before slowly pumping his hips.

The slow movements mixed with the crackling of the fire make for a divine experience, your eyes fluttering closed as you allow yourself to be present in the moment. Sighing, you feel his fingers draw small circles on the meat of your hips and love handles.

"So fuckin' good...can I go faster baby?" he asks, which results in a resounding yes from you. With your permission he starts to thrust faster, groaning at the feeling of your cunt taking him in so willingly. You keen as your back arches, never getting tired of your boyfriend railing you.

He can never resist in this position grabbing a handful of your ass, squeezing as he pulls you back into his thrusts. Moaning, he brings his hand up to give you a firm spank, causing you to jump and whine.

"H-hey..." you fake complain, although Cole didn't miss the soft whine of pleasure that escaped you.

"Awe, did that hurt pumpkin?" he coos in a teasing tone. He ends his sentence with a rough thrust, causing your breath to catch as he smirks. "Oops, guess that hurt too. And this."

He reaches round and grabs at your tits, his chest against your back almost as he pummels your g spot with shallow thrusts. Watching your reactions, he can't help but feel a rush at every noise that spills from your throat. The way your ass ripples with every snap of his hips has his dick throbbing inside of you, but after a while, he pulls out and grunts, smacking your ass.

"On the sofa again, I ain't a spring chicken no more you know? M'knees can't take it." he chuckles softly, as you giggle at his slight self-deprecation. He helps you up, before guiding you back to the sofa. Laying down, he gets comfortable as you get on top and sink yourself back on his cock. "Yeah sugar...you know this is my favourite."

"Because you don't have to do any work?" you tease with a giggle, causing him to huff and thrust upwards.

"No, ain't nothing wrong with wantin' to see my goddess of a girl bouncin' on me." he defends himself with a lazy grin, his hands stroking your thighs as you move yourself up and down. You can't help but giggle at his praise as you look down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly with every movement you make.

Gripping his shoulders for support, you lift yourself and slam back down over and over, watching as his eyes almost glaze over in hazy satisfaction. He feels his cowboy hat slip, and with another smirk grabs it and puts it on top of your head.

"That's it baby, you my cowgirl huh? Gonna ride me?" he teases, although his pupils blow wide as he sees how stunning you look completely naked with his hat. You nod, using one hand to stabilise yourself while the other keeps the hat firmly on your head as you ride him. In that moment, Cole wishes he could take a picture and look at it every single time he's apart from you; truly you're a goddess in his eyes.

With his hips twitching, he can't help but thrust up into you, gripping your hips like you were gonna disappear if he let go. With a whimper, you feel your second orgasm of the evening build up inside you as you move.

"Cole..." you begin, but he knows your body like he knows his way around a revolver.

"I know sugar I know, gonna cum for me ain't ya?" he encourages, his hips really moving up into you now as he watches your face contort with pleasure. One hand slipping down to play with your clit, you move desperately, chasing your orgasm.

"That's it, take what you need." your boyfriend grunts out, and you do, using his cock to get yourself to the edge. You cum with a cry of his name, causing the breath to be almost punched out of his lungs at how beautiful you look. He starts to pound up into your cunt, groaning.

"Yeah that's it, just a little longer angel. Just a bit more...gonna make me...fuck...cum inside that pretty pussy."

You let him use you, and it isn't long before he makes good on his word and fills you up, moaning deeply in satisfaction. You collapse on his chest as he holds you close, running his hands up and down your sides as your breathing syncs up with each-other. He grips your hips to lift you off his cock, and you whine as the cool air hits your cunt as his release spills slowly out of you, most likely making a mess of both your boyfriend and the sofa. A bit of you almost pities the next people who stay here, knowing they'll have to sit on a sofa with Cole's cum stains on it, but your pleasure outweighs the potential guilt. After a few minutes of bliss, Cole pipes up.

"So...you suitably warmed up?" he grins, and it widens when he hears your soft laugh.

"Yeah i'm warm...maybe a little too warm."

"You're just never happy, are you?" he laments sarcastically, chucking as you lightly slap him on the arm. You snuggle into him, feeling him hold you close and tight. "M'happy you suggested this baby, gonna be a relaxin' few days here with you."

Smiling happily, you nod softly. This is all you wanted, for him to rest like he deserves. "Yeah...a nice break."

"A nice break." he repeats, before kissing you on the temple. "Just don't go out with that flimsy jacket on, y'hear me? Unless you just want me to drag your pretty ass back inside and fuck you till you're all nice and warm again."

[whirligig-girl]

Eaurp Guz's roughly 1:30 scale live-steam model of Slaibsgloth Coal Railroad No.32, a ~1.6 meter gauge 2-8-8-2 garratt steam locomotive built on planet Mellanus in (earth-)year 2346 and retired in 2379 (two years ago) for service bringing coal carriages from the coal pits up to the interchange at the Glooiw & North Eastern. It is unusual for a coal burning steam engine to remain in revenue service--the majority that remained in use after the development of Diesel-Hydraulics were decommissioned with nuclear-powered railway electrification in the 2360s, and the ones that remained were mostly converted to oil burning. The Slaibsgloth steam engines meanwhile persisted right up until the closure of the coal mine. Glooiw & North Eastern has acquired the 40 locomotives. Their fates are uncertain but railway preservation groups remain optimistic.

When Guz first came aboard the Cerritos she was overworking herself constantly, which lead to her being so tired that she was leaving residues on the consoles and generally doing sloppier work. It turned out that Guz had been working double shifts, and when Billups found out he put a stop to that. That's when Guz turned to a hobby she'd done a lot of before joining starfleet--model rocketry. Armed with far more advanced tools than she'd had on Mellanus, she made accurate working model replicas of real historical prewarp spacecraft from a variety of planets and would fly them in real space whenever possible.

Eventually, she also found a new appreciation for her childhood love of trains, and her model-making skills and tools translated well to model railroading as well. She has a little shelf layout in storage that she occasionally tinkers with, and she runs large scale model trains on the holodeck. She could run full-scale holographic trains on the holodeck too of course, but it wouldn't be nearly as satisfying. And then there's the 1:5600 scale BM-gauge railroad she's building on a microscope slide! (Bµ gauge is "Byte micrometer" gauge or a track spacing of 256 µm)

Guz eventually wants to build a roughly 1:80 scale modular layout of the Slaibsgloth Coal Mine, with smaller scale electric-powered models of the Slaibsgloth coal-burning steam engines and enough track to wrap around a room and give them a good run, but unless she can rally support for a Cerritos chapter of the Starfleet Rail Transport Modelling Club or she can get her own crew quarters, it's a pipe dream--or maybe something for her retirement.

Replicators and advanced computer aided design tools reduce the amount of time it takes to get modelling projects done by whatever factor is desired. Technically Guz could probably replicate fully assembled working models as long as they fit in the replicator bed, but where's the fun in that? But she's still only got so much time in an off-shift, and doing it 'properly,' scratch-built using machine tools like 'real' modellers on Mellanus, or manually defining all of the geometry in a CAD program like modellers on Earth, would take too much time.

see also: alt versions of the locomotive.

[mmyashas]

ALL QSMP PRESIDENCY CANDIDATES

bbh: he proposes he's the only person able to make the necessary decisions the quesadilla island president would have to make. he's sure he's the only one with enough courage to keep the island free for the residents and make sure no dictator runs while keeping the eggs safe.

foolish: he appreciates the opportunity he got from the quesadilla island. he says its not often that you get stuck on a weird island with a bunch of crazy people who speak different languages and wants to get the most out of it. most people would want to leave as soon as possible, but he wants to make friends with everyone and enjoy what the island has to offer him.

etoiles: hes smily, generous and the only negativity he has inside of him is for himself, never for others. hes going to visit eighty trillion of dungeons the island has for better understanding. he commits to exploring the island to understand it better.

baghera: she has a good head on her shoulders and only wants the best for the island members. she prioritizes communication and has a good relationship with everyone. she thinks she can handle any problem and precipitated actions that can appear. the island is the one that gave her motherhood and thus, a goal. this place gave her friends and family; and will do her best to preserve it at any cost.

felps: he is a navigation officer, bus conductor, artist and gardener. he wants to make everyone happy, give the eggs more rights and gift macaroni and pasta to everyone.

forever: he is one of the players who is the most time in the island, so he will always be there to look after the island member's interests. as experienced mc player, he has many ideas for community projects for the people. he's bald and will represent the people in this series. he comments he likes richas very much; that he's the happiest accident he's ever had. he also likes all the island habitants; everyone is so nice and funny, even though the french make lots of noise in the eggs' houses.

mike: he will finally bring the order to quesadilla island. what he likes about the island the most is the people. first of all, he would prohibit the use of waystones. this would change the dynamic of the island, as it would force players to make paths between their bases and finally they could install a railway system and trains.

cellbit: his past work experience is tribute, assasin, prisoner and detective. he's roier's husband. he's able to make eloquent speeches and manage complex organizations. he thinks he'll be good representative for the future of the island; not only apporting new ideas and narratives to other content creators but also protecting the eggs. his favorite things from the island are his husband, his kid and his friends.

gegg: gegg's a business man going from door to door gegg. gegg's a war criminal gegg. gegg's an influencer in relation to the family lifestyle gegg. "gegg change world." what gegg likes the most from the island are the wet, the wet places and caves. gegg promises your freedom. gegg promises truth. gegg promises your power and abolishing any gubernamental law, tax, debts and any existing law. the establishment stops us, gegg will free us. only one gegg rule. trust in gegg, because gegg trusts you.

elquackity: he says there's lack of organization, lack of order; that he thinks under a perfect scenario he could carry out. has run for qsmp presidency and says this job will be very important and hopes it'll be the best possible.

[traintrainingmontage]

CW: Engine Death, Mourning

I know that people have written about this before, but...

Could you imagine being Duke, and being found by the Thin Clergyman, and then having this whole book written about your past, including your colleague Stanley/Smudger, and coming to the horrifying realization that, after asking about his fate, nobody knew the answer? And after people on the Skarloey Railway get to digging (because this is a railway that would NEVER let the abandonment of an engine stand), they find out that he's likely STILL down in the mine at Cas-ny-Hawin, never rescued the way Duke was.

It's absolutely gut-wrenching because as they go through the records, it's written that after he broke down in late 1946, the flooding was what caused the mine to close in 1947, and in the records, he's blamed for everything. Every misfortune, laid at Stanley's (tragically metaphorical) wheels. Duke is understandably betrayed and upset, and when Sir Handel Brown hears, he decides he's going to do something about it.

A team is assembled. Fortunately, unlike with how Duke was found, they actually know where he's likely to be, and the excavation begins. The Fat Controller gives his blessing, allowing the use of some of the engines on the Little Western to help the teams out. The Thin Controller and the Foreman personally go down there several times themselves, knowing how worried their beloved engines are.

They finally find him, and... well. Perhaps mercifully, he's gone. Likely died some time ago, from the look of it, although his passing wasn't peaceful. The metal of his body is incredibly rusty, sharp and jagged like claws. With cranes and carts they bring out his remains, into the sun. They then cover him with a tarp, and with all the formality and sobriety of a funeral procession, bring him back to the Skarloey Railway.

Once Stanley is taken from the flatbed and a mournful Douglas has departed, there's a sharp intake of breath from Duke, who had insisted on waiting for news (who insisted on waiting whenever he possibly could, every time the team set out, and if not him, Sir Handel or Peter Sam), tears in his eyes as he finally sees what had become of Stanley.

Finally, the Thin Controller asks Duke what he wants to do. Duke is utterly nonplussed by this; what is being asked, here? And the Thin Controller elaborates: he meant the most to you, Duke, so what should we do with him? It's a bit unorthodox, but they could bury him properly, and return him to the earth. They could clean him up (or not) and preserve him. They could scrap him. But in this, the choice is up to Duke, the only form of apology they can think of, even though it's hardly their fault.

Duke swallows, and then rolls forward, as if taking a closer look. "Do you..." he begins slowly, then lets it go, as if afraid to speak. His eyes meet those of the Thin Controller, and they're not like the manager of the Mid-Sodor's eyes. They see Duke as Duke, the railway's newest friend and colleague, not as their grunt. The difference is astounding.

"Do you... think that any bit of him is still usable?" he asks solemnly, and the Thin Controller hums and looks over to the Foreman. Mr. Hugh runs his eyes over Stanley's frame, his gaze aloof and professional, and nods.

"Yes, I think so."

"Then..." Duke almost mumbles, but forces himself to speak up. "Please... could you... find a use for him? If you melt him down, could you... turn him into something really useful? He deserves that much, especially after never truly getting the chance."

The Foreman is quiet for a moment before he smiles and nods at the old engine. "Yes. I promise you, Duke---Stanley here will have a new lease on life, or at least as much as I can give him."

"Thank you, Sir," Duke replies tiredly, and backs up, not saying another word as Stanley's remains are hauled onto another flatbed and taken to the back of Crovan's Gate.

--------

As soon as Duke lays eyes on the railway's newest engine, Ivo Hugh, he wills himself not to sob. He'd asked about Stanley's remains before, over the years, and only in the past couple of years was he told that the Hughs and the other engineers at Crovan's Gate were planning to use him for something that they were working on in their spare time. Part of him thinks this can't possibly be what they'd used Stanley for, but a warm-hearted glance from David Hugh, who has taken up his father's mantle, makes his breath catch in his pipes.

Stanley has been reborn, in a form more glorious and wonderful than ever, and now he'll truly have a chance at being a really useful engine.

Despite his best efforts, tears start falling down Duke's face. As he struggles to hide them, David Hugh quietly walks over. "Pop and I worked pretty hard on 'em," the Foreman says conversationally, almost casually. "Fred was our first success, so we decided it was about time to make good on that promise."

Duke gives him a watery smile, not trusting himself to speak, but the Foreman understands, and gives him a wide smile in return. "You're family, and we do right by family. Show 'im the ropes, Duke," he grins, giving the old engine a familiar pat before walking away.

Duke takes a deep breath, and rolls forward, meeting the sparkling, curious gaze of the new engine with that of his own. Unbeknownst even to himself, a smile stretches its way across his face--one of relief, and one of regrets no longer lingering.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, young engine. You may call me Duke."

[houseboatisland]

(A replica of the 1830 locomotive “Planet,” built in 1999, to which “New Era” is mostly mechanically identical.)

Located at the Silverburn Railway Museum are countless irreplacable and historic items. None can truly claim to be the most significant of all, (just like children,) but in terms of age, one always comes first by virtue of how time works, (just like children.)

In this regard, “New Era,” a dinky 2-2-0 tender engine, is very special: She is the oldest surviving locomotive in Wallundic history. In fact, she’s the first locomotive to ever set wheel in the Liberal Republic, in 1845. She was built roughly fifteen years earlier for the Liverpool and Manchester Railway and ran under a different name which has since been lost to time. It’s known that she was withdrawn in 1841, and she was found idle, grimy but mechanically sound when agents of the embryonic Eastern Railway came to purchase her in late 1845.

Getting her to Wallund in time was achieved “by less than saintly means,” and she was very helpful in building up her new home railway. At this time her English name was stripped and the name “New Era” was applied at the extravagant Opening Day festivities on August 1st, 1846. She was also inducted as the newborn ER’s No. 1.

New Era was shortly afterwards painted into the Liberal Republic colors: blue boiler cladding with white rims on the wheels, red wheel spokes and bufferbeams. It had been intended to give her a red smokebox and funnel too, but heat-resistant red paint was scarcely a thing yet. This was applied decades later when it came about, giving the engine a “cotton candy” look.

Surprisingly long was New Era a genuine working engine: even as workloads multiplied in size and engines following her became larger and faster, she was still sought after for ER Directors’ Trains and was a traditional steed for Wallundic Presidents’ rail travel. She was finally withdrawn and immediately preserved for posterity in 1935. Despite being out of service and static since then, the ER never gave her number to another engine and she remains their No. 1, (deservedly, in the author’s opinion.)

[willtheweaver]

A writer’s guide to forests: the timber harvest

Looking for something that can serve to set the atmosphere, be a background detail, or even be a plot point? One idea would be the logging industry. No matter your characters or their society, as long as they live on land, they will need wood. The scale of harvesting can greatly impact the forest, and your characters.

The three methods of harvesting both wild and managed woodland are:

Clear cutting- In the short term, this method allows for the greatest yield. An area of forest, sometimes many acres in area, is selected, and all trees within are felled. What happens next can vary. Land slated for settlement or farming will be left cleared, while areas that are part of a managed woodland or plantation will be left to regenerate. Periodically, trees that are diseased or crowded will be removed, but otherwise the forest will be left alone until the time of harvesting. Clear cutting is controversial as the wide scale destruction leaves the topsoil exposed and vulnerable to being carried away by the wind or water runoff. The large scale clearing also destroys large swaths of habitat for wildlife, which can spell trouble for endangered species.

Seed tree harvesting-This is a variation on clear cutting. At the time of harvest, several trees are spared from cutting. These then disperse seeds which become the basis for new growth. As the new trees grow, they are periodically thinned, and the parent trees are harvested. Once the trees reach maturity, a small number are marked to be left standing, and the cycle begins again. As the forest floor is (almost) fully exposed, this method of harvesting suffers from the same problems as regular clear cutting.

Select harvesting- The least destructive method of logging. Only a small number of trees are harvested, with the rest of the forest left alone. As more of the canopy is left intact, the forest floor will naturally be shaded, and the growth of new trees will be slower than if the area was cleared and exposed to the sun. Critics argue that this makes selective cutting not viable from a monetary standpoint, especially when there is a high demand for wood and wood derivatives. Supporters say it is more sustainable and preserves the most forest area for wildlife.

No matter how the forest is harvested in your story, there will be a few things that will more or less be constant. Your characters will need some sort of camp where they live, and where they bring logs. There may be a sawmill on site, as well as a way to transport characters, wood, and supplies. Roads or railways can be used to move on level ground. If there are hills or deep ravines, it would make sense for some sort of chute, funicular, tramway, or switchback railway to be used. And don’t forget about water. Rivers, lakes, and canals can be traversed by boat, with large inlets or natural harbors being the ideal anchorage for timber ships. What is the daily life of people here?

Now, the disruptions caused by logging can be a driving factor or your plot. This could trigger conflict between lumbermen and activists, or people who already live in the forest. What will the felling of trees mean for the wildlife? And is this just a timer harvest, or the prelude to settlement? How these conflicts play out will affect your characters and their society. Look to history for inspiration, but don’t be afraid to take things is a different direction.

[meanscarletdeceiver]

was rereading some of your Ao3 work and had a thought, if Nobby, or any preserved engine for that matter went the way of "passing on" i.e the face fading away as mentioned in "Departure", do you reckon they'd be kept around, or would they be scrapped? I'm not majorly active on Tumblr so apologises if this has been answered somewhere that I've missed, but I was curious.

That's an interesting question (though repeats are fine, dw)! My fics are never necessarily in the same universe unless noted, and for the Nobbyverse in particular I really did remake my mental image of the TTTE world from the ground up - I've never considered 'departure' in the context of that series (excepting only that I supposed poor 115's spirit would have passed on after being buried and abandoned) - so for me this is a new angle to examine.

And I'm cackling a little up my sleeve, because this actually sounds like a great plot set-up… if you own a preserved engine and its spirit has 'passes on,' you've probably fucked up, and very publicly too.

A preserved engine whose animation faded away would lose a great deal of its appeal for the public. I generally suppose that engine sapience has become rarer and rarer over the years of mass-production and cheap-ass maintenance, so in-universe part of the glamour associated with 'the old days' is that people yearn for the times when trains were alive. You go to a transport museum in part to show your kids what a talking vehicle is like because most kids don't meet them anywhere else.

Furthermore, although the general public could certainly get used to visiting 'dead' engines, just like seeing dinosaur skeletons... they aren't used to it because unalive preserved engines are almost unheard-of. Engine spirits 'depart', not out of any old unhappiness but specifically because they believe that they are no longer needed in this world. An engine who knows that they are being preserved for posterity is wildly unlikely to believe that.

But I'm sure it happens, especially for the sort of engines sitting in storage for years on end, waiting for some sort of overhaul or opportunity. However even in those cases it really doesn't take that much care to avoid a 'departure' - machines are like camels when it comes to attention! They are hugely inclined to err on the side of believing they matter to humans. So long as someone visits them regularly with assurance and keeps 'em clean and dry, they are capable of waiting in readiness for quite a long time.

So the norm is that engines are preserved alive and stay alive. Any 'departure' is so abnormal that rail enthusiasts would be pissed. Questions Will Be Asked. Either some heads or gonna roll, or the owning institution's name is going to be mud among railfans.

Thus, if I'm in charge of the York Railway Museum and my staff reports one morning that Coppernob's soul seems to have 'passed on' in the night, I'm gonna be in panic mode.

Which, even as I type this and you read it, we both know means that Nobby has definitely faked them out at some point or another.

If an engine has really 'departed,' however, I expect they're immediately tarp'd ("she's, errm - she's having a nap! 🙃 ") and moved into storage a.s.a.p., where either attempts are made to coax their spirit back, or else the owners hope that the public eventually forgets about them. There are still people who would be interested even in the lifeless body, but too bad for them, they will have a hell of a time ever seeing it now because things will usually be so lock-and-key.

And that brings us to Boxhill, maybe… (? 🤔)

[ye-olde-sodor]

Dream Canon Mallard Headcanons!

Mallard is an LNER Class A4 built in 1938, making him one of the youngest members of the Gresley Family. (Aged 62 in this au)

He holds the world record for the Fastest Steam Locomotive in the world. On July 3rd, 1938, he reached 126 mph at just a few months old!

Mallard can be arrogant and mean, but he’s generally well mannered and generous with humans and engines alike…unless an engine dares to defy the hierarchy, then it’s an entirely different case. He's also quite the Optimist, which plays into how he views serious situations.

No one tell him that Henry "Stanier" was built with stolen Gresley blueprints, he'll have a stroke. A merge of the two families would create a nation wide scandal!

He’s in charge of his own Engine Correctional Facility on the Mainland, and has 17 other facilities just like it across the UK!

This idea of correctional facilities came to him sometime after he learned of the scrapping of most of his siblings (save for Spencer and a few others). He was grief stricken, and clung to the first thing that brought him any feelings that weren’t grief and dread.

He noticed that him and a select few of his siblings were preserved because they either performed better than the rest, broke a record, had some major historic significance, or were purchased by foreign railways. It’s the first example that became Mallard’s obsession.

He wanted to give all engines another chance at life. He wanted to see if he could mold an engine to be better than their other siblings, and have them preserved. When the trial of this idea succeeded with Ryan (who was unaware of the trial and assumed he was preserved due to his ties with the other Gresleys), Mallard found his new purpose in life, his spiritual awakening one might say. He’s been operating his correctional facilities ever since.

While he has the best intentions in mind, he’s oblivious to the harm his methods of teaching may cause. He can also be full of himself when he’s convicted he’s right.

His main goal is to expand his facilities to Sodor, the bane of British Rail and to the Engine Hierarchy. He wishes to purchase it and reshape it in his own image. Mallard won’t modernize it, but he wants to bring order and essentially remove what makes Sodor stand out from other heritage lines…it’s numerous accidents and ties to the Reverend Awdry.

He's extremely close to Ryan, who he views as a son. Spencer is a close second, however. While he cares for Scott and Gordon as well, he can't let Scott's "death" get in the way of progress. He'll mourn in secret, not in public. It's the professional way to do it.

As one can probably tell, Mallard sees opportunity in everything, even in death and depression. He's an optimist by nature, and always tries to see the good in everything. Case in point, now that Mallard has part of Scott's inheritance and Gordon doesn't want to work anymore, Mallard has the perfect opportunity to go through with his Sodor Renovation plan!

When Mallard learned that Gordon was struggling to cope with the loss, he offered to take him to the Mainland to get him closer to professionals who can help him.

Spencer became roped into Mallard's scheme, but Spencer isn't too keen on the idea just like everyone else.

Thomas quickly became Mallard's "moral enemy" due to his Anti-hierarchy views. Once Mallard has control over the island's engines, Thomas will be the first one admitted to Mallard's Correctional facility. He's hoping that Ryan can whip him into shape, as he plans to have Ryan run the Sodor facility in the future.

Quotes:

Mallard: "Gordon, my dear brother-"

Gordon: "We're cousins."

Mallard: "Gordon, my dear cousin-" ____________________________________________

Mallard: "So Spencer, how's the island?"

Spencer: "Depressed, demoralized...on the brink of collapse now that Gordon got replaced by those three diesels!"

Mallard: "Oh is it now?~"

Spencer: "Please don't talk like that again-"

Mallard: "Do tell me more about Sodor's, eh...run of bad luck."

____________________________________________

Mallard: “Well look on the bright side…once you feel ready, we can return to Sodor and I get to introduce you to all the new changes I’ve made! :)”

Gordon, half listening: I suppose you’re right-wait WHAT ALL DID YOU CHANGE???”

Mallard: “Secret :3”

____________________________________________

Mallard: "So we're going to put the new Correction Facility over...Oh I don't know where to place it! Spencer, you know the island well, where would be the most optimal location for it?"

Spencer: "I wouldn't say I know it well...but if you're serious about this facility of yours, I'd place it somewhere along the Express route. There's some land near Vicarstown that's unoccupied. It'll be right next to a large yard and station for engines to train. Plus it'll be in close proximity to the Dieselworks."

Mallard: "There's a Dieselworks?! On Sodor?"

Spencer: "Calling it a Works is a bit of a stretch but yes, there is one. It's in complete disrepair though. It's any wonder those diesels despise Topham and our fellow steam engines"

Mallard: "Hmm. Good to know..."

____________________________________________

Mallard: "Y'know, I've been digging into your class lately in order to-"

Thomas: "The Hell?! What are you doing that for, you creep!"

Mallard: "...To better accommodate my courses and lessons to your class, since I've been told you're quite the water hog."

Thomas: "Oh you miserable-"

Mallard: "I'M TRYING TO HELP YOU, YOU TWIT."

____________________________________________

Edward: "We'll lose everything! Sodor's culture, it's heritage, and it's railways. You'll destroy everything that Sodor stands for if you go through with your plan!"

Mallard: "Ah, so my plan will work! What wonderful news! Now we can get started on making a new Sodor!"

Edward: ಠ_ಠ

Mallard: "One with our beloved hierarchy, no confusion or delay, and more attention to the poor and neglected diesels!"

Diesel 10: "Hell yeah! Finally, a Steamer who gets it!"

Edward: "He's using you to push his own agenda you twit! He'll forget about you once he-"

Mallard: "Step right up then, my fellow machine! Show me around the Diesel Works so I can make arrangements to give it a complete overhaul!"

Diesel 10: "Gladly Mr. eh...Mallard was it?"

Edward, under his breath: "Oh you can fuck right off..."

[hazel-of-sodor]

Hazel Locomotive Shops presents the LNER A2/1 Pacific. In 1944, Edward Thompson ordered the last four ordered Gresley V2 2-6-2s to be built to his own modified 4-6-2 design. Built in 1944-45, The four engines were meant to be the successor to the V2, part of Thompson's  standardization plan. In reality, all four would be scrapped before V2 withdrawls began. In my Au, No.508 Duke of Rothesay would be saved by private buyer Gywneth Amari for an undisclosed sum. In 1966 Amari would purchase the recently closed Great Central line from British Rails, and 508 was overhauled at Doncaster, pulling the reopening train for the new London New Eastern Railway. She has since become the symbol of the railway's heritage operations. She completed her most recent overhaul in 2016, and recently doubled-headed a heritage special with fellow LNER Pacific 60103 Flying Scotsman to celebrate the latter’s 100th birthday.

[weirdowithaquill]

The Importance of Names in the Railway Series

It's been a hot minute since my last take on the world of Thomas & Friends - so here's one that has sort of been wandering about in the back of my mind for a while.

How important is a name to an engine? Cause we know the engines do put a lot of value into a name. Stepney and Edward say as such:

"[...] I think our Controller was right. All engines ought to have names." "Yes," agreed Edward, "it's most important."

And it's further reinforced by Bear later in the series:

"It's nicer than just having a number," he (Bear) says. "Having a name means that you really belong."

Donald and Douglas echo this by giving themselves names (partially to fool the Fat Controller) and the interesting thing is that Sir Charles actually uses their names almost exclusively from that moment on - unless referring to them by their new numbers.

Even BoCo gives himself a name! And it feels pretty on-the-spot too, seeing as he just goes "but you can call me BoCo".

But in contrast, every single rail-based 'villain' or 'antagonist' in the Railway Series only has a number, or is Diesel, who doesn't really have a name either. Check me! There's:

Diesel

The 'Big City Engine'

Class 40 (D261/D471)

D199

D40125

None of them have names - not even 'the Big City Engine'. They're given nicknames by the engines, but otherwise they are just numbers. And I think it runs a bit deeper than that. A little while back I did a post on the 'railway rulebook' - and something I said was that managers did everything in their power to both dehumanise the engines and make the engines loyal to them. What better way of doing that than only giving certain engines names? 'Flying Scotsman' gets a name because he's a prestigious express engine, but the engine who shunts his coaches? The goods engine who brought his coal? Why would management give them names - to do that is to undermine the class system they've built to keep the engines fighting amongst themselves. If the engines are on equal footing, then they'd want equal rights.

You know... this sounds a lot like the Communist Manifesto. I don't think the Rev. W. Awdry intended it that way, but it does.

But that's beside my point. Certain railways either don't want their engines to have names. In particular, I would point at the LMS and the LNER, which both had a massive roster of engines. Not only is recording all their names a pain, but it would also add a sense of individuality to them and muck up their spreadsheets. In most countries, people have an ID number for identification - and that's what these companies needed. Not names; numbers.

The GWR is a notable exception to this, and I think people have noticed that. Both Duck and Oliver arrive with names, and Sir Topham I was a Swindon-apprentice who would have grown up with GWR ideology. Edward got his name because he was built as an express engine, Henry and Gordon for the same reasons - and everyone else either gives themselves names or have names given to them.

Toby probably got his from his crew and the locals after decades of being in the same area - I mean, he literally runs into their town, of course they have a name for him. Percy is given his by Sir Topham, and we can infer Thomas and James got similar treatment. Donald and Douglas gave themselves names, and so did BoCo.

Another possibility is that a preservation society would give engines names, though that was more the engines on said heritage line - like in Stepney the Bluebell Engine, where Stepney refers to all his friends on the Bluebell by name, and says his controller gave out some names, like Bluebell and Primrose - but Adams and Cromford got their names from the other engines and they don't want the controller finding out. And again, Stepney and Edward both explicitly say that they believe engines ought to have names - and that they believe it really makes an engine feel like family.

This almost exclusively applies to engines in a steam-dominated society, and once again I have to return to my old nemesis: early British Railways. British Railways inherited a massive network that spanned a continent and had thousands of engines - not to mention the fact they were going to scrap all their steam engines and replace them with new diesel engines. Names were never ever going to be viable. But moreover, they were going to kill all the steam engines - if these engines were seen by the public to be very sentient and intelligent, then there would be an outcry. Dehumanising these engines was extremely important to their business model.

So almost every new engine built under BR got no name. And that includes steam and diesel engines. And this sort of environment, where engines referred to each other by number, became standard.

Names have a lot of meaning behind them. We give names to things we believe are very valuable to us, things we really bond with, like a teddy bear or a beloved family car. Names confer a level of love and care, as opposed to numbers, which have a level of 'repetitive factory conveyor belt' to them, for lack of a better term. These engines, referring to each other by number, didn't sound as human as those referring to each other by name.

For a good example, as mentioned above, the GWR gave all its engines names - and the GWR has the most engines from its company preserved. The fact that people knew these engines had names, and possibly by name, really contributed to how many were saved.

But what makes it even more interesting is the fact that often engines give each other names. Bear is given his name by the other engines, Duck is a nickname given to 'Montague' because he waddles. And I think the reason that none of these diesels have names is because no steam engine ever gave them a name, and company policy means no diesel has the mindset for giving out names either. Steam engines give each other names, but it becomes exclusive to them and friendly diesels, and thus dies out over the generations.

Engines today don't have names. They don't even really have a proper visible number. They have a serial number somewhere, but that's about it. And I think that says a lot about what happened to the tradition of names for engines.

To sum up a very long, winding ramble, I think names came from several places:

Themselves. Engines could name themselves, like Donald and Douglas - who got their names from (maybe) former drivers?

From crew and community. Toby most likely got his name from the people around him, being on an isolated tramway.

From their owners. Flying Scotsman, Mallard and Percy are good examples of this. It represents a level of importance and care for this engine, as well as in some cases reinforcing class.

From other engines. Duck and Bear are great examples of this, as they are given names by their friends that they like, as it makes them feel as if they fit in.

And these names were very common in the steam era as engines gave each other names and communities knew specific engines and gave them names. As everything became more commercial and bureaucratic, naming was lost. Numbers reinforced company identity and dehumanised the engines to make them less sympathetic to the public. Look at Donald and Douglas, who probably had their names for decades - given by their friends - but never learnt by management.

Wow, that took a bit of a dark turn. Thanks for reading, and as usual, none of the above pictures are mine.

[osrphotography]

Andrew Barclay & Sons 2227/1947 seen derliect at the Rotorua Ngongotahā Railway Trust. (2021)

New to Challenge Phosphate Coy Ltd, Ōtāhuhu as an 0-6-0ST steam locomotive, it served with them until 1966 when it moved up the road to Westfield Freezing Co.

In 1972, it was taken to A. & G. Price's works in Thames and rebuilt to a diesel locomotive, likely due to the boiler ticket expiring. From there, it continued to work at WFCo until 1996.

It was initially preserved by a fledgling Goldfields Railway, but in 2008, it was sold to the Rotorua Ngongotahā Railway Trust. It ran briefly but suffered a transmission failure that was never repaired.

By 2023, the entire fleet of locomotives based at the completely defunct trust were sold. Where 2227 is currently, I have absolutely no idea.

[trainalt22]

NEW AND IMPROVED ✨️CHARACTER PROFILES✨️ GET THE LORE WHILE ITS HOT PEOPLE

Name: Jamie Alrick

Age: 23

Occupation: NWR#1 Fireman

Likes: The cold, chocolate, photography and RPG games

Dislikes: being hot, narcissists, tight clothes and being late

Bio: Born on Sodor to Richard and Alice Alrick in March of 2000. Unfortunately, Rick's wife Alice was infertile so a surrogate was needed. Even more unfortunate is that the surrogate (that was randomly chosen) was the rich CEO of a British-American business empire, Janice Weddle. When her only son died in 2007, she took the Alricks to court over custody for Jamie. She won in 2008 due to less than ethical means, taking Jamie from the loving family he had grown up in and placing him into a cold and calculated corporation where his every move was judged. He was put under severe stress. All he wanted was to go home, but he was alone in a different country, so he could only revel in the small comforts, like the gifts his family on Sodor would send him for Christmas and his birthday, which were irreplaceable.

He ran away from home in 2016, living on the streets for 2 years before he scrounged up enough money for a plane ticket to England, where he showed up at the Alrick household back on Sodor. He was welcomed with open arms, but the trauma from his childhood made it hard for him to acclimate to a more relaxed environment.

He moved to the mainland in 2019 for studies and work, enjoying being on his own greatly, until he received a call from his mother in early 2023 urgently sending for him to return to Sodor due to his father's untimely passing.

Name: Amilea Lilian Collins

Age:21

Occupation: NWR #12 fireman

Likes: sweets, the fall season, steam locomotives, knifes

Dislikes: Bigotry, the summer, Spicy food, being bossed around

Personality: she's sly sarcastic but never rude she tries her best to be as open minded and friendly as possible

Bio: Born in September of 2003 to her family her mother, Lidia Collins, her father, Maxwell Collins, and her brother, Ashton Collins. Most of her early childhood, Amilea naturally gravitated to her female classmates, which Maxwell found especially concerning because Amilea was AMAB.

During her later years, she discovered herself and transitioned with the support of her mother and brother.

However, her father kicked her out, devastating her. Luckily, her brother took her in while he worked at the NRM. It was then that she developed her love for locomotives of all types.

In her spare time, she worked on heritage railways all over the UK. It helped that her brother was recently promoted to lead mechologist for the NRM, and she used him as a reference to get on the footplate of some of the most famous preserved engines in the UK.

She applied to the NWR as soon as she hit 21 for an engine crew position. She got an interview, so she traveled to the small island of Sodor by rail, where she met someone who she thought could use a hand.

She was never extroverted, but if she got the job, it could be worth it if she tried to present herself as she always wanted to. So, she went up to him, offering her help.

When they went their separate ways, he seemed in higher spirits, and Ami felt glad that she could help someone in need.

Unfortunately, her interview had to be postponed to a few days later due to an emergency. But when she finally did get her interview, she was hired.

She found a studio apartment near Arlesburgh. It wasn't cheap, but it was leagues cheaper than an apartment in Tidmouth. Her brother helped her move everything in, wishing her the best in starting this new chapter of her life.

Name: Riley Mcdoon

Age: 26

Occupation: NWR#6 fireman

Likes: older woman, programming, hanging out with his drinking buddies and musicals

Dislikes: keith, rain, and snow

Personality: burtaly honest but rude hell tell you when your outta line or have to shape up but when your on his good side he's funny and charming

Bio: Born in Wales in August of 1997 to Michael and Ashley McDoon, he inherited his Irish accent from.

During his early childhood to late teens, he was a troublemaker and was on a first-name basis with almost every officer in Cardiff. However, by the time he went to college, he mellowed out while volunteering on the Talyllyn Railway.

He inherited a house in Ffarquhar from his great aunt and moved there. Originally hired as a signalman on the North Western, after he completed his training, he became a fireman and has been doing it ever since.

Name: Phi Montley

Age: 23

Occupation: NWR#7 Fireman

Likes: being left alone, the sounds of steam engines, Toby, walks in the forest

Dislikes:loud noises, people, crowed spaces, tomatoes

Personality: quite and rarely speaks but if you piss them off you will wish you Hadn't

Bio: Born in January of 2000, Phi had a good early life. They and their mother, Melissa Montley, lived in Ffarquhar until 2008, when a car accident claimed her life.

Unfortunately, the accident had a lasting effect on Phi. They didn't speak for almost a year afterward, and when they finally did, it was only to warn her grandfather, Wilfred (who was now their guardian), about a plank of wood that was going to hit him in the head.

Phi still lived in Ffarquhar for most of their life after their mother's accident. They tried moving away a few times, but it never worked out.

Wilfred was just happy to have someone around after the death of his wife and child. Years later, he did everything he possibly could to look after Phi.

Phi came out as non-binary shortly before working with their grandfather on the North Western Railway. They had their name changed right before applying.

They deal with anger issues often, almost resulting in violence. But with both Toby and Wilfred, they managed to stay grounded and not lose their cool often.

Their hot-headedness earned them the nickname "the phoenix of Ffarquhar" for their temper and good looks.

Name: Wilfred Montley

Age:63

Occupation: NWR#7 Driver

Likes: tea, hiking, kayaking, cooking

Dislikes: being lied too, bland food, being used, Loud music

Personality: as kind and loyal as they come Wilfred and his engine are the best to come too if you need advice he's always willing to lend a hand

Bio: Born in June of 1960, Wilfred was abandoned on the steps of St. Tibba's Nunnery in Welsworth, where he was raised. When he was 16, he got a job as a cleaner for the NWR on the Suddery Branchline.

By the time he turned 18, he was a fireman, moving from place to place and never being stuck to one engine for long before being transferred to Ffarquhar in 1980 as a fireman for Toby.

That same year, he fell in love with a local shopkeeper's daughter named Roselyn, whose father owned the tramway. By 1982, they got married and bought a home in Ffarquhar. In 1983, his daughter Melissa was born. Unfortunately, Roselyn died in childbirth.

Raising a daughter on his own was hard work. By 1985, he became Toby's driver. Some semblance of normalcy returned to their lives as Melissa grew. Wilfred would often sneak Melissa onto the footplate on her days off from school.

By 1999, Melissa found love of her own in a high-school love story in the making. Unfortunately, carelessness led to Melissa getting pregnant that same year, but her father helped and supported her, even when her "partner" ran off.

All was well; the little one was born with no serious problems, and his daughter survived the ordeal. Unfortunately, in 2008, Melissa passed away in a car accident in Tidmouth. The accident permanently affected Wilfred, with the only thing keeping him going during the next few years being his grandchild.

However, Phi took the accident hard. They screamed for their mother to return home so much that they started coughing up blood, damaging their vocal cords.

After that, they didn't speak for a year, only finally speaking when Wilfred was doing some housework and a plank of wood he had propped against a wall started falling toward him (which still hit him because he was in shock of hearing his grandchild's voice for the first time in a year).

After that, they started talking more, little by little. Eventually, the years passed them both by, and "Phi," as they started to call themselves, was 18. They tried moving away, but no one understood Phi like their grandfather, so in Ffarquhar they stayed.

When Phi turned 20, they applied to work for the NWR on the Ffarquhar Branchline and passed both the interview and training with flying colors.

When Phi approached Wilfred about wanting Phi to be their legal name, he took them the same day to get it changed. In that same conversation, they came out as non-binary. Wilfred didn't care; he loved his grandchild all the same.

They have worked together since, helping Toby and Henrietta work the Ffarquhar tramway.

Name: Adalyn Aberdeen

Age:53

Occupation: NWR D#3 Driver

Likes: warm weather, fancy clothes, wine, railway Galas

Dislikes: rain, snow, children, slobs

Personality: posh but not insufferable she acts more like the mother figure of the Ffarquhar crews and she loves to gossip over wine with Wilfred after a day's work

Bio: Born in 1970 in Manchester, her father was a railwayman through and through. She would often spend her early childhood watching the locomotives of the London Midland Region thunder by her childhood home.

When she was 16, her father would bring her along to help start up the locomotives. She took a liking to the engines, and slowly but surely, they took a liking to her, blossoming her love for diesel engines.

She would help out cleaning the sheds or cabs of the brand new diesels. After she graduated high school, she wanted a job working with her father, but she was denied. Even after many attempts, still nothing. She tried for any position they had open, and every one was denied (which she suspected was because of her gender).

Fed up, she tried one last time, but she made a mistake on the address of the letter, and it was sent to Sodor, where she was hired as an engine driver immediately.

Sodor was in a shortage for anyone with experience working with diesel locomotives, or anyone who wanted to. The interest was in the older steam engines, so when they got a resume from the Midlands, they hired her on the spot.

When she realized her mistake, it was too late, but she figured she would be turned away regardless.

Much to her surprise, a letter showed up a week later asking if she could do an in-person interview on the island of Sodor.

Her surprise only grew when she got to the small island and got the job. With what little savings she had, she rented an apartment in Knapford and started work. She was the first female diesel driver in the island's history.

It didn't take long for her and her engine, Daisy, to warm up to one another, and she works the same service to this day. Some would say doing the same job for so long would get boring, but Adalyn and Daisy know that on Sodor, there's never a dull moment.

Name: Keith Williams

Age:20

Occupation: NWR #6 Diver

Likes:wealth, praise,being in charge, men

Dislikes: being told he's wrong, not being in control, alcohol,

Personality: rude stuck up and arrogant it'd hard to imagine how he got a job on the NWR

Bio: Born in 2003, he was adopted by two very wealthy people who always wanted an heir to their business empire. He was raised with a golden spoon in his mouth; as a child, he was never told no. He naturally developed a love for locomotives from watching Thomas and Friends.

As he grew older, so did his passion, until he went to see The Flying Scotsman when he was 13. Ever since that moment, he wanted to be an engine driver. His parents didn't understand why he wanted to do such dirty and filthy work, but as he was their only child, they humored him.

When he turned 20, they pulled some strings with the branchline manager for the Ffarquhar Branchline to have him hired as an engine driver, even though he flunked out of his engine driving test on Sodor.

He was still experienced, and it wasn't his fault that the rugged, scruffy fireman he was paired with was kinda cute but rude to him. He would have aced that training if it wasn't for him.

He got the job regardless, and they assigned him to Percy. He was upset that he wasn't assigned to a more important engine, but he took it, hoping to one day move up the ranks.