#thomas barrow is everything

[junodarling]

In case you didn’t know, Thomas Barrow and Jimmy Kent set fire to Downton Abbey and ran away together and everyone at Downton died and Thomas and Jimmy lived happily ever after

I will never finish your series, sir

[papa-evershed]

ROBERT JAMES-COLLIER as THOMAS BARROW Downton Abbey (2019)

[just-two-blokes]

My roman empire is the fact that Phyllis Baxter did not rescue Thomas Barrow, her sarcastic, oily and mean coworker from a bathtub full of his own blood.

She rescued little Thommy that she has known for almost all her life and whom she loves like a little brother.

[likehandlingroses]

“Mr. Carson isn’t in charge now—you are”

We may never know what Thomas said to Guy about Carson, but we know he understood!

[viraaja]

✨️Warning: Hot Mess Characters ✨️

Why are the hot mess characters always my favorite?? Anytime I read/watch/play a game, I always fall hardest for the character suffering the most yet trying to play it off like it's NBD. Inevitably they fall apart, and I somehow love them more for it.

Astarion from Baldur’s Gate 3, Loki from the Avengers, Dorian Pavus from Dragon Age, and Thomas Barrow from Downton Abbey are a few great examples.

Orpheus in The Crack at the Heart of Everything is this type of character. Because, while these hot messes do appear in media, how often do we get stories exclusively from their POV? Not often enough if you ask me! So I wrote a book all about one :)

Which begs me to ask...

🤔 Who is your favorite hot mess of a character??

//

Read THE CRACK AT THE HEART OF EVERYTHING for: ✨️ Hot Mess POV character (and he's a villain) ✨️ Angst of the highest order ✨️ Hurt/comfort ✨️ Snarky sarcastic humor ✨️ Touch-starved MMC ✨️ Healing journey ✨️ Redemption arc

Banished, a death curse hunting him, the last person dark sorcerer Orpheus wants tagging along on his exile is his long-hated rival, Fenrir Rawkner. But when a massive chasm into hell threatens to swallow the Empire whole, Orpheus finds himself turning to Fenrir for help. Because Orpheus' magic may be the key to closing the crack—if Fenrir can keep him alive long enough to figure out how.

[thomasbarrowmybeloved]

Thomas really got little mermaid-ed in downton 2 huh

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Spotify is horrible.

I’m doing a playlist for my boy Thomas Barrow and what is the first suggestion from Spotify (you know when you make a new playlist and suggestions come up)

well I’ll tell you Spotify recommended “Don’t Try Suicide” by Queen

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Scene One: Open for Brit Picking

Okay, so! Something I’ve not done before, but figured I’d might as well try: I have asked one of my Trusty Sources in the UK about how Rocky Horror is handled over there and, as always, received Good Information on the subject.  However, since it is always possible to misinterpret things or find out after the fact that there was a question you didn’t know to ask, etc. and since this is only two scenes, I figured I might as well plunk this down and let the entire UK (and other people with Knowledge) go over it.

I mean, yeah, if I do that with both scenes, people will have read the whole thing before I put it up on Ao3, but meh. Not all the world has Tumblr, and it’s just a Silly Thing, right? Right.

If this goes well, I might do it with other pieces in this verse. If not, hey! I learned a thing!

THERE IS ONE MAJOR RULE TO THIS! (Well, two, but I shouldn’t have to state ‘be polite’) As my mother will tell you, if you are going to knock a big ass hole in my plot and demolish the entire thing, you need to then give suggestions on how to fix the big ass hole. If, for instance, you say to me “Richard couldn’t wear that in public because sequins are illegal in Yorkshire” you need to suggest something with the same general feel that he could wear. Failure to do so will result in either me junking the entire project or just frothing at the mouth for a bit before yelling “FUCK IT HE’S WEARING THE SEQUINS ANYWAY!”

We good? Great! Let’s party!

-

“I don’t know how I let you all talk me into things like this,” Thomas muttered, climbing out of the car and pushing his glasses up on his face. He normally only wore glasses when he was working at the computer for a long time, or reading late at night, and it was odd to be out with them. He also felt like a bloody school boy with his hair falling into his face.

Guy slipped out of the driver’s side door and closed it. “It’s easy,” the other man replied in his usual, relaxed manner. “Chris likes to see you having new experiences, so Richard and I talk you into humouring him so none of us lose our minds.” He stepped around the car and adjusted Thomas’s bow tie for him. “Don’t worry, though. I suspect you really will enjoy this, once you get over the initial culture shock.” He gave a conspiratorial grin. “Then the next time we’re in the states and Marion ropes me into the cast, you can throw cards and toast at us.”

To say Thomas was skeptical was an understatement. Admittedly, after hearing Guy talk about his experience standing between an audience and a screen, having the audience yell crude things between his lines, the English experience didn’t seem quite so bad. Still, he couldn’t imagine wanting to throw toast across a room as a visual pun. Other reasons, yes, but he wasn’t working at Downton Abbey anymore. More to the point, he couldn’t imagine wanting to have toast thrown at you! “If you say so.”

Guy took his hand. Unlike Thomas’s outfit, which made him feel like an absolute tosser if he was honest, Guy’s outfit was quite smart. Overdone, perhaps, but he wore that suit to premiers, so you couldn’t say it didn’t have class. Even with a brocade waistcoat instead of his usual, discreet black, and a maroon seven fold tie instead of a bow tie, there were plenty of events where he’d have blended right in. Just being with him helped calm Thomas’s nerves a bit. “I do,” he promised, in what was probably a deliberate play off of marriage vows.

Thomas smiled and shook his head, then turned toward the theater. “Right, then. Let’s find the oth-” He trailed off, blinking, as a man and woman walked past them wearing. Well. The woman was in a maid’s outfit, which was odd, but it was Halloween. The man was wearing black leather, or PVC, or something like that. He also revealed a lot of skin, and fishnet, and Thomas had the odd suspicion that his outfit was actually designed for a woman. “What. On. Earth.”

“Mm. That’s a nice Frank-N-Furter costume,” Guy noted, placid as a lake, reaching to his jacket’s inner pocket. He pulled out a cigarette case and opened it, producing a sherbet straw. He offered it to Thomas. “Need another?”

Without a word, Thomas took the straw, worked it open, and emptied half of the contents into his mouth. Once they’d stopped fizzing and he could swallow, he looked after the couple, then back at Guy. “People really dress like that? I mean, the Internet said, but…they really…?”

“They do,” Guy nodded, slipping the cigarette case back into his pocket. “And most everyone is hyped up on something, if only adrenaline, so if you need another of those, let me know.” He gave Thomas his most reassuring smile. “We won’t stand out, I promise. Most people dress like the more flamboyant characters, it’s true, but there will be at least ten other Brads in the theater.” He ran his eyes over Thomas and added, “Although I doubt any of them will be half as charming as you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Thomas muttered, before finishing off the sherbet. It was rubbish, of course. Flattery could get any of his boyfriends just about anywhere, with a bit of perseverance, and they all knew it. Guy and Richard took less obvious advantage of it than Chris, though. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and reopening them just in time for a woman in next-to-nothing and lots of sequins walked past. Trying not to grimace, he pulled out his phone and texted Chris. We’re here. Where are you?

A moment later, his phone pinged back. Street corner. Left facing theater.

Armed with instructions, Thomas and Guy began to weave their way through the growing group of theater goers. For the most part, the costumes didn’t get less ridiculous, but Thomas did spot a couple of other men in standard shirts and jumpers, things he wouldn’t consider ‘costumes’ if they didn’t all have glasses and bow ties. One of them was accompanied by a young woman wearing a dress and jacket that almost looked like something the Queen would wear, only with fewer decorative bits. And she didn’t have a hand bag.

Thomas had almost convinced himself that Guy was right, that they didn’t stand out and that the night (well, extremely early morning) would be enjoyable after all, when he heard a familiar voice calling his name.

“Thomas! Oi, over here, Thomas! Guy!”

Turning, he found the other two members of their party leaning up against the theater wall. He froze, staring. On some level he was faintly conscious of his mouth falling open. In the same way, he was aware of Guy beside him, saying his name, and nudging lightly at his arm, indicating they should move.

He didn’t move.

Finally the other two seemed to decide that if he wasn’t going to come to them, they’d have to come to him. Pushing off the wall, they made their way over to Thomas and Guy. As soon as they were in ear shot, Chris grinned and said, by way of greeting, “Hey there. We’d about given up on you.”

“Would you believe there were some sheep who thought the middle of the road was a good place to spend the night?” Guy asked. Part of Thomas was grateful that the other man didn’t tell them the real reason they were late, namely that it had taken two pints and three sherbet sticks to get him into the car. The rest of him was still staring.

“No,” Chris replied, all cheek.

Thomas finally managed to choke out a greeting. “What are you wearing?”

Admittedly, as far as the surrounding costumes went Richard’s wasn’t that bad. It was unusual, to be sure, and involved a lot of sequins and fishnet, but it was also mostly black and had trousers. Chris, on the other hand, looked like he’d robbed a cheap porn store. His outfit, if you could call it that, was one of the leather-or-PVC ones, again with fishnet, but it looked like it was held together with string. As soon as Thomas managed to get his eyes above the other man’s waist, he realized there was also eyeliner involved.

Chris arched an eyebrow. “Clothes, and good to see you too.”

Thomas looked over his outfit again, stopping just before he hit the waste. “Those are not clothes.”

The criticism earned him a full dose of puppy eyes. “What? Don’t you like it?”

“I…” It was not a fair question, really. In private, in one of their bedrooms, he wouldn’t have a problem with it. In fact, he might quite like it. Standing here on a street corner in York, outside of a theater, he couldn’t believe the other man hadn’t been arrested for public indecency.

While he tried to wrap his brain around Chris’s clothing - or lack there of - Guy and Richard greeted each other with mockingly exaggerated formality. “Good to see you, Mr. Ellis.”

“And you, Mr. Dexter. Thank you for getting Thomas here. I can’t imagine it was easy.”

“It could have been worse. Thank you for suggesting Brad, by the way. It did make things easier.”

Jumping on the opportunity to dodge Chris and his questions, Thomas turned a scowl on the other two. “I said I’d come, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Richard smiled, his eyes twinkling, all mischief. “And I’m sure you’ve changed your mind five times since then, including twice tonight.”

“It was only three times,” Thomas informed him, “only one of which was tonight.” Really, it wasn’t fair how well they all knew him. “And most of those times was because I decided to look up what the whole thing was about.”

“And it didn’t really take that much to convince him not to call out last minute,” Guy assured them, once more reaching into his jacket for his cigarette case. “Speaking of which, would anyone like a sherbet straw?”

Chris’s eyes lit up. “Oh, brilliant! I’ll take one of those, thanks.”

“Any flavour preference?”

“Naw, cheap energy is cheap energy.” Chris took the straw that Guy handed him and ripped into it. He then eyed the actor critically. “I’ll admit, Rocky Horror didn’t seen like quite your thing, but I didn’t expect Thomas to be more in character than you.”

Guy blinked at him a few times, then looked down at himself. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked, with what Thomas knew to be exaggerated confusion. “It’s always done in the past.”

With an air of open skepticism, Chris explained, “When we say ‘dress up’, we don’t mean for a bloody premier!” The ‘are you really this daft?’ was implied. Even when he was drunk, Chris was too polite to say that out loud to someone who had just given him a gift, even if the gift was just flavoured sugar.

“Oh, don’t worry. I may spend half of my life in America these days, but I’d never wear this waistcoat and tie to a premier!” Guy assured him, all pleasant smiles. “This exact outfit is saved especially for lectures on abnormal pathology.”

Chris blinked, several times, clearly trying to work through that.

Before he managed, Richard gave a short guffaw and graced Guy with his best Cheshire cat grin. “So what you’re saying is that you’d like to take us on a strange journey?”

“If I may,” Guy demurred.

Chris looked, if anything, even more non-plussed. “Oh, you are too hot to be the Criminologist!”

“Oh?” Guy asked, in that teasing, distracting way that he always adopted when people complimented his looks. The way that looked charmingly confident rather than slightly embarrassed. “Then who would you cast me as?”

Chris’s eyes narrowed. He twitched his mustache back and forth, then rocked back on his heels a bit, eyes narrowing further. “I’m not sure,” he finally admitted. “But not the Criminologist! I’ll figure it out by the end of the film.”

“Speaking of the film,” Richard looked over his shoulder toward the door, “I think they’re letting people in. We should probably go.” With one of those comfortable smirks, he walked over and stood next to Thomas, although once there he turned his smirk on Chris. “You lead the way, Doctor.”

With a playful snort, Chris turned and led the way to the theater. Guy followed him without question, trusting the other two to follow.

A light hand on Thomas’s arm kept him still for a moment. As soon as the other two were out of easy ear shot, Richard leaned forward and muttered. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that you look good. Glasses suit you.”

Thomas felt his ears go warm and he grinned. “Yes, well, I feel bloody under dressed.”

“You look great,” the other man assured him, letting go of his sleeve and taking a step toward the door. “And don’t worry. I’m sure Chris will attract any unwanted attention away from you.”

Following him, Thomas looked ahead to where Chris was calling for them to hurry up and join the queue. “Is that why he chose that outfit?” It wasn’t beyond belief. As outrageous as he could be, Chris did genuinely mean well, and could be surprisingly thoughtful at times.

“Mmm, maybe a little,” Richard allowed. “Although he’d have probably done it anyway.” He paused as he slowly started to follow the others, then added, “Having you come as Brad really was my idea.”

Thomas glanced at him. “Oh really?” He smiled a little, although he couldn’t help the rueful note in his voice as he noted, “No need to ask why. Thank you, though, for knowing I’d be most comfortable as the ‘normal’ character.”

“You’re welcome, although that wasn’t the only reason I suggested it.” At Thomas’s questioning look, Richard smirked. “When I first saw this movie, I may have had a terrible crush on Brad Majors.”

[specialagentlokitty]

Thomas barrow x deaf!reader - we’re both different

Hey, is it possible to request a Thomas Barrow x deaf!reader where the reader is also a servant and Thomas is the only one who bothered to get to know her and communicate with her? Thank you. - Anon💜

A/N: italics will be sign language

Sitting at the table, you looked at the book in front of you as you ignored the dinner in front of you, completely unaware of everything else going on around you.

“Put down your book and finish eating before it’s too late.” Mrs Patmore said.

Thomas glanced up from his own plate, and he watched as everybody looked at you.

Your book was taken from you and you looked around confused, brows furrowed and Daisy pointed to your plate.

You looked at Thomas.

Why did she take my book?

He gestured to your plate and you nodded, picking up your knife and fork.

“Give me the book Daisy.”

“Of course.”

She beamed brightly as she brought it over and he snatched it back from her, just like she had done to you.

You hadn’t done anything to deserve the way they treated you, and now they were teaching Daisy and any other new servant that joins to do the same thing to you.

Thomas didn’t agree with it, just because you were different to them.

He was different to them.

You ate your dinner, watching as your plate was taken away from you and he watched as everybody else left.

Walking over, he sat next to you, handing you your hook back and you grinned brightly at him in thanks as you opened it again.

After a few minutes you felt a tap on your arm, and you turned around to face him.

Put the book down for a moment.

You nodded your head, turning your attention fully to him.

Do you understand why they do what they are doing to you?

Because I’m different. I know.

He sighed, nodding his head.

It’s okay, I’m used to it. Everybody always treats me different.

He leant back in his chair, lighting a cigarette.

Does it bother you?

You shook your head, smiling softly at him.

No. I have you. That’s enough friends for me.

We are not friends.

We are the best of friends.

Thomas rolled his eyes as you, and turned around so he couldn’t see you signing anymore and you smacked his shoulder.

He carried on ignoring you and you walked around him only for him to turn around once more.

Reaching to the table you too his tin and shook it so he knew that you had it.

He spun around and you put it up your sleeve was he wasn’t able to grab it back from you.

Don’t turn your back on me that’s not nice.

He held out his hand, waiting for you to return the tin to him.

No you don’t deserve to smoke. Smoking is bad anyway.

He picked up your book, tucking it into his liveries.

Come in!

He rose a brow in question, and you rolled your eyes, repeating the words a little slower this time.

Sometimes you forgot that Thomas was still just learning how to sign, he knew a bit when you arrived, and over time he picked up more from you.

Give me the tin and I will give you the book.

You huffed, crossing your arms.

Really? You are going to ignore me?

You turned to the side so you could still see him out the corner of your eyes, but you didn’t have to look at what he was saying.

Thomas scoffed a little, shaking his head as he picked up his news paper.

You weren’t exactly quiet when you moved, so when you tried creeping up on him he knew straight away.

You tried to grab the paper and he held it to the side, when you went that way to get it he stood up and held it up in the air so you couldn’t reach it despite how much you jumped for it.

Thomas smirked a little, looking at you as you huffed again and stopped, looking at him.

He held out his hand and you reached into your sleeve, holding out the tin and he set the paper down, taking it.

He took out a cigarette and walked away while you followed him.

When he was outside you hit his arm.

He smirked a little, pretending that he couldn’t see you.

You sat down next to him, knocking your shoulder into his a few times until he did the same thing, making you rub your shoulder where you collided with him.

Thomas tapped the back of your hand and you looked at him.

“You’re so childish.” He said slowly.

You are mean.

He reached into his pocket, handing you your book back.

“I know.”

You grinned brightly and took it.

Thomas rolled his eyes as he watched you run back inside to go carry on reading.

You weren’t a bad person, and he knew that, but in a way he was glad the others couldn’t use sign language like he could.

He could talk to you about things nobody else needed to hear about, and you always kept them to yourself.

You knew about him, who he was and why he was different and you were just happy to have a friend, you couldn’t care less that everybody else would find him revolting.

He knew what it was like to be persecuted for being different, and maybe that’s why he was so protective over you without realising it.

You were young, and it wasn’t your fault you were deaf, it just happened, and you needed somebody to watch over you and that’s what he would do

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

DOWNTON ABBEY HEADCANON

Guy Dexter died in his sleep in 1938; the will he had written leaving everything he owned to his travelling companion was declared invalid, and Thomas, penniless and in mourning, found himself living in the streets.

One day someone came to see him, having searched for him far and wide: a young blond man he did not immediately recognize, and who told him he would take care of Thomas as long as he needed.

"Please, do not look so surprised, mr. Barrow." the young man said with a smile as he took Thomas' hand "You would do the same for me, I am sure. Did you not say you would always be my friend wherever you were?"

[mirageofadesert]

Give me more morally gray characters ...

Let me interrupt my regular program for a brief rant about Downton Abbey and Thomas Barrow… well, not really regular as I've been too busy to watch anything with subtitles for the past few weeks. Instead, I passively binged on Downton Abbey while working.

I love morally gray characters, be it Tantai Jin from TTEOTM or Spike from Buffy. One of my favorite characters is Thomas Barrow from Downton Abbey. (Spoiler Alert, TW // suicide, homophobia, conversion therapy)

Thomas is everything I need in a character ... unhinged, angsty and gay.

I loved him from the first rude line to the last. He starts out as a delightful troublemaker with a cruel streak born of fear, hurt and the desire to be respected, fit in and belong. He is, as Baxter understands so well, his own worst enemy, having perfected self-sabotage over the years.

A supporting character for most of the show, the footman-turned-butler's story is usually prioritized over his character development - meaning the writers know where they want him to end up each season, even if it contradicts previous characterizations. This leaves the audience with a character who can be hard to follow at times.

The writing really got on my nerves at times. From conveniently forgetting his medical training when they want him to despair during his job hunt, to pulling any kind of cunning out of him when they want him to appear changed (and depressed), Thomas is always what the showrunners need him to be, but not necessary what would make sense for his character. I'm still annoyed that they made him go through medical torture in the form of conversion therapy and a suicide attempt, and then glossed over these traumatic incidents in favor of boring other storylines. Or how they portrayed his war injury as an act of cowardice rather than desperation.

What I love about him is that he was still a coherent character who remained a morally gray character (the last film aside, because they sort of forgot to give him any of his character traits back). Thomas would still lash out when he was angry or hurt, would still manipulate others for his own gain, and would still feel wronged by the world. Once the world has brought him to his knees, he understands that he has only himself to blame, and he tries to do better - which has its ups and downs. The Thomas we see in the final and in the films still wants to belong, is still a desperate romantic, but he is also so incredibly insecure in a rather endearing way.

Younger Thomas was rather stiff but dignified, trying to appear immaculate, trying to hide the fact that he felt he was anything but. Once the mask comes off, he goes from being a reluctant cat to being full of nervous puppy energy. As a neurodivergent person who has recently struggled with not being able to masks well, I can relate a little too much to this version of Thomas.

Most characters, that start out as villains, either change completely (like Tantai Jin), their behavior will be excused (like Mo Ran or Spike) or they sacrifice themselves for the greater good to redeem themselves (like Spike). Thomas stays more on less morally gray. We understand the reasons better, why he would lash out at others, and we can feel sorry for him. He had a harder life than most, but that still does not undo the harm he has done to others.

All in all, the last film was a bit of a disappointment for me, mainly because a lot of the characters felt a bit off. I had to watch the film twice to get behind the romance with Guy Dexter. What Guy meets is Thomas desire to be respected as a person, to be seen as worthwhile, to escape the life as decorative wallpaper and to finally have a romantic relationship with someone that is rather enthusiastic about him. A lot of their relationships seems to have developed off-screen, based on Guy knowing who Carson was during his proposal and understanding how uncertain Thomas still feels about his role in the household. I wish them well - but not at the expense of Thomas being excluded from the rumoured 3rd film. I hope it takes place in the USA and we get to see him again!

I really wish we would see more morally gray characters like this, even through a quick look into the fandom of Downton Abbey shows me, that not everybody can handle it.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 16-Too Late

Traintober 2023

Other Stories

Day 16-Purpose

Too Late

James was the one to find him. Thomas was hidden among the disused wagons behind Tidmouth. It didn't surprise James that none of the others had found him. Most tended to forget this part of the yard existed. James only knew because this was one of the spots he went to when everything became too much. As it had become for Caomhnóir.

The tank engine's fire had long gone out, his soot covering slowly washing away under the rain. Tear tracks covered his cheeks, but he was utterly unmoving. He had never looked so small to James as he did right then. Thomas had an energy that swelled past his frames, always moving, never still for longer than a second at a time. When he was upset it was easy to forget he wasn't as big as the main line engines. As Caomhnóir...there was a reason the likes of Flying Scotsman listened when he spoke. But right now? James just saw a little engine, bending under the weight placed on his frames.

James silently rolled to a stop in front of the tank engine, his crew walking away, leaving the two engines alone. For a long time, they remained in silence, James just letting him cry.

"I was too late." Caomhnóir finally whispered, his voice rough from crying. "She was already gone when we arrived."

James had no idea who he was talking about, but he could certainly guess at their fate.

"You can't save everyone." He reminded gently.

Caomhnóir's laugh was bitter and broken, "Everyone? Right now I'm failing to save anyone."

Well, that was enough of that.

"So you did dump that goods train on me last week for no reason."

Thomas looked up, confused, "No, I was..."

"And you had Henry sabotage the kipper the week before that for nothing."

"Of course not! I..."

"And Gordon derailed at Barrow completely by accident last month."

Thomas fell silent.

James raised an eyebrow, "Well? Did you or did you not need cover for engines sneaking in three times in a month?"

Thomas sighed, "I did...but it was not enough."

"No its not..and it never will be." James sighed, allowing his own grief to slip through. "But we can either accept that and help you save who we can, or let them take our kin unopposed."

"There's just so many." Caomhnóir sounded lost. "When I realized she was gone I grabbed who I could but..."

He was quiet for a long moment, " I moved as fast as I could but...." He looked helplessly up at James, "How do I tell Gordon Pretty Polly''s gone."

Oh. Well, that explained it.

"You don't," James said. "I will."

Thomas looked up to protest but James pressed their buffers together. "You have enough on your frames without this."

Thomas shook, "she wasn't supposed to be withdrawn yet. We had a plan, but suddenly they withdrew her, and by the time I got there..."

James took a deep breathe to steady himself, "it's still not your fault." He pushed on before the little engine could protest. "By all accounts, you made a sudden mad dash across the entire country undetected to try to save her. If you failed, then it was because there was no way to succeed, not because you failed in any way."

"I ran out of coal on the way back." Thomas admitted, "The midnight goods had to sneak me in."

Well, that explained why his fire was out.

"That only proves you did everything you could."

***

11 years later.

Thomas was resting at Tidmouth when he heard Gordon's whistle, joined by his siblings. He opened his eyes, expecting to see Gordon, Northern, and Scotsman.

Instead, a fourth engine was in front of him, the three expected Gresley's smirking on either side of her.

She, somehow was an A3 Pacific in BR Express Passenger Blue with the number 60061 on her buffer beam.

"I never got to thank you for trying to save me."

"POLLY?!?!?"

[just-two-blokes]

*Daisy and Mrs. Patmore arguing about Andy‘s Birthday present*

Daisy: 'But how am I supposed to know what he likes? I‘m a woman. Only men know what other men like… but they don‘t date each other! I need a man who knows what other men like‘

Thomas * stepping over the threshold of the kitchen* 'Thomas Barrow, at your service'

[neroushalvaus]

"For example, on a boat trip the valet spends a lot of time with the crew. In that time it's important to build deep relationships, but it's also important to remain discreet"

(Downton Abbey - Rules For Household Staff)

"Thomas got laid on the boat to America" people where are you at

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 13 - Something New

Gordon Starts Something New:

Gordon slept in for the first time in nearly eighty years. He was able to doze while the other engines rose and began their duties, not being needed quite yet even as James grumbled away and Henry blew steam at everyone who tried to bug him after pulling the Flying Kipper. Gordon only had to awaken when his mid-morning train was due out, yawning and stretching his piston rods as he slunk through the yards to where his coaches sat waiting at the platform. On the opposite platform, Emma looked exhausted.

“Aren’t you High Speed Trains built to go this speed?” asked Gordon with a chuckle. “We… we… aren’t used to this schedule…” wheezed Emma. “How did you… do it?” Gordon hummed, as if considering the question.

“I suppose, I put in a lot of effort,” he said eventually, smirking cheekily. Emma stared at him, gobsmacked. Gordon just smiled innocently back. Ah, so this is why Thomas enjoyed teasing him – the look on poor Emma’s face was priceless!

“Though it is nice to retire to these slower trains,” Gordon conceded. “It does make my joints feel stiff though – how about you?” “What about me?” “Surely the slower timetable must make you feel grumpy?” hummed Gordon. “I know it was for me when I moved here.” Emma spluttered in horror.

“Slower?! If anything, we’re going faster than ever on this railway!” “Oh? Then the Mainland must be truly decrepit,” sighed Gordon. “Decrepit?!”

Gordon’s guard blew his whistle, and the big blue engine steamed away, leaving behind two stunned HST powercars.

The truth of the matter was that Gordon would have kept his express if he could have – but the Other Railway wanted it to meet them at Preston, and they wouldn’t allow him to run that far. Gordon thought it very unfair; malfunctioning diesels and shoddy electrics got to run on the mainland, but a steam engine pulling a regular revenue-earning service was too much. It was very rude, especially considering how reliable he was.

So engrossed in his thoughts, Gordon almost missed the platform at the junction. He did his best to break gently, but it still felted rather jolty. Thomas looked over from the other platform. “How’s the slow life treating you?” asked the blue tank engine cheekily. “I got to sleep in,” Gordon replied excitedly. “I’ve not slept in since that strike we pulled back in the thirties! The firelighter even came to me last – can you believe it?”

Thomas chuckled – it was unusual to see the big engine so excited, though it made sense. He’d been wound so tight, doing his best to uphold the railway’s image and pull the express and live up to the rules imposed on him by his designer.

“Well, you enjoy your slow day,” said Thomas kindly. “But don’t forget to stop in the platform!” Gordon rolled his eyes and watched as Thomas steamed away.

All day the former express engine enjoyed the slower runs – until late that afternoon. He had just arrived at Barrow with a goods train (and he didn’t even complain once!) when Sir Stephen Hatt strode out of his office.

“Gordon! Thank goodness you’re here. Pip and Emma have broken down at the Big Station in Preston, and I need you to go rescue them.” “Of course sir,” grinned Gordon.

The big engine gathered a brakevan and headed out to the foreign Big Station. When he got there, everything was in confusion! And none of it had to do with Pip and Emma, who were quite safely out of the way in their platform. No, the confusion was caused by several freight trains scattered about the yard. Gordon didn’t comment on it, using a triangle to turn around and back down on the emergency coupler fitted to Pip.

“Time for a good run home!” grinned Gordon. The moment the guard blew his whistle, the big engine was off. He was certainly quite a sight! Smoke and steam billowed out of his funnel, while the furious whirring of his piston rods as he picked up speed drew everyone’s attention. A diesel even stared, gobsmacked.

Gordon charged up the West Coast Mainline, thundering along at well over the usual speed that steam engines were allowed.

“This is new!” laughed his fireman, watching signals whir past. “I checked with the stationmaster,” Gordon’s driver replied, shouting to be heard over the wind. “They didn’t recode us to heritage tour – Gordon’s cleared for express speeds!” Gordon was overjoyed to be going at top speed. His speedometer climbed higher and higher, the big blue engine sprinting past started EMUs and roaring through sleepy stations. Everyone heard him for miles, and came out in droves to watch the display of a bygone era brought back to life.

Gordon eventually slowed for his run along the Furness line, and then gently braked the train in Barrow.

“What a run!” cheered Gordon excitedly. “I feel so energetic!” “How?!” spluttered Pip from behind him. “It’s in my cylinders,” Gordon said. “I was built for this, and really letting loose is an incredible feeling. Sure, I am ready to move onto something new; but at the end of the day I will always enjoy coming back to the Express.”

The big blue engine collected a rake of coaches for his passengers to ride in on the rest of their journey to Tidmouth, leaving Pip and Emma with a lot to think about.

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