the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au

[the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au]

The Thing About Today...

14 February 1970

Word Count: +3,890

Valentine’s Day is supposed to be one of the most joyous holidays of the year, even if the engines don’t fully understand it! James certainly does! Everything’s red, like him, and it’s nice to be appreciated for once. But when he comes across Edward, he’s shocked to learn that he isn’t enjoying it. Compared to last year, it’s a complete turnaround for the blue engine, so what changed?

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a/n: happy 5/2 (or 2/5) !!!

~

"Bonjour, pa'! Joyeux Saint Valentin!" piped Jacqueline.

"Bonjour, Jackie!" chuckled James as he backed into his goods train. "Joyeux Saint Valentin! Feelin' bubbly?"

Both engines were taking loads of aluminum from the works up north the Shen Valley Branch Line. James would take his load to Tidmouth while Jacqueline would take hers to Vicarstown. It was originally meant to be the other way around but Jacqueline had been insistent in swapping loads last night.

"I have a friend there!" "I haven't seen her in a while, pa'!" James quickly gave in, knowing how it felt to not see a close friend in a while. Apart from the weekly gatherings at Tidmouth, he hadn't seen Edward, one of his closest friends, in a few weeks. They didn't meet up as often as they used to years ago. Sometimes, they'd go one or two days without seeing each other and other times, they'd go weeks instead, simply because their schedules didn't line up with one another.

Besides, it was Valentine's Day. He could at least greet his friends on such a wonderful day on any chance he could get.

"Oui, pa'!" Jacqueline's cheeks burned, but the red engine thought nothing of it, laughing as he was coupled up to his goods train. Her guard's whistle shrilled. "I'm off, pa'! Au revoir!" With her boiler full of energy and steam, she headed off for Vicarstown.

"Au revoir!" He lurched forward, slightly straining as he was pulled back by his flatbeds. Right then, it didn't bother him-.

"Watch out, you silly engine!" His driver, Demian, popped his head out, shaking his fist.

Now it did, to which James snapped right back, "Shove off, will ya!"

Ever since Demian and Richard, his new driver and fireman respectively, took over from his previous crew, there was nothing but constant bickering between them. James didn't see them fit enough to understand him. They weren't the same as Mr. Quill and Mr. Turner.

They weren't them.

But, they were better than sitting in the shed, waiting to come out because no one else could take him out. Mr. Quill and Mr. Turner were well past their youth, having a hard time keeping up with the workloads. It was hard for James to admit it but they needed to retire. They deserved it after having spent so many years by James' side, tolerating him at best.

He knew that, and it was the very least he could do to thank for everything.

...

Right as James neared Knapford Station, he spotted Thomas waiting with Annie and Clarabel. From a distance, he noticed the lack impatience or cheeriness within his expression.

Curious, the red engine hollered as he slowed down, “Wonderful day, innit, Thomas?"

Nothing.

He slowed down some more, leaning to his right. “Thomas~! I know you can hear me~!”

Again. Nothing.

“Thomas-?”

“What?” grunted the engine in question.

“He speaks!” snickered James, coming to a stop. “What's up with you today? It's only morning of a wonderful day!”

“Don’t say it-”

“Joyeux Valentine's Day!”

“To Lady, you're insufferable-”

That's it. Today was no day to be in a sour mood. It had to be the worst day to be so. Determined to not let his day go wrong, at least not so soon, James figured that getting to the bottom of... whatever was going on might help. “Ok. Seriously, what's got you all puffed up?” The splendid red engine looked over the stumpy blue engine, trying to spot any injuries that could imply something.

He found nothing. But still. “Did you-?”

“I'm not like you!” jabbed Thomas. “Getting into trouble every single day!”

“Hey!” he scoffed, thrown off by the sudden anger. “I was just asking!”

“I'm still waiting!" the blue iron horse snapped once more.

Confused, James stayed quiet.

“Go on! Make fun of me.”

What is up with him? “...what?”

Thomas was ready to snap again but suddenly stopped in his tracks, frowning. “Wait... were you on the island last year? On Valentine’s Day?”

James huffed. “'Course I was! I got stuck up in Peel Godred, remember?”

“...so you didn't hear about any rumor that happened that day?”

“I heard that something happened—" James leaned further to the right. "Not sure what it was."

"Forget what I said then!"

"Oh no, you don't!" Thomas wouldn't be allowed to leave anyways, James knew that. His guard hadn't blown the whistle, and Thomas didn't want a repeat of what happened years ago. "What spills has spilled. Fess up!"

Thomas' cheeks burned, glaring at James. "Mind your own beeswax!"

The last bit was sneered, taunting James for something that happened years ago. It set off the red iron horse, sending him into a flustered rage, gritting his teeth. "You-!"

Thomas' guard blew his whistle. The moment it did, Thomas fled, startling his crew and successfully avoiding confrontation.

"Thomas!" James could holler all he wanted but he knew Thomas wouldn't come back. "Damn it!"

"James, language!" Demian popped his head out, shaking his fist.

James fumed but held on. Just long enough for when his signal turned green, he jerked forward, just to show, once again, how little respect he had for the young men. Ignoring their chides once more, the red iron horse headed toward Tidmouth to finish up his job.

...

Tidmouth Yard was busy as usual, with shunters scuttling about the tracks, switching points left, right, and center. As James arrived, he surveyed the area for Stanley or any of the other shunters when he spotted Edward, who appeared to have just arrived. Odd, as James didn't recall seeing or hearing Edward on his way here.

Just as James approached his friend, he had an idea.

Maybe he knows what happened. Often seen as wise and kind, others would forget that Edward, somehow, knew every little thing that happened on the island and was responsible for any rumors spread. Partially.

As he drew near Edward, the latter piped, "Good mornin', Stanley!"

Behind the row of cars to Edward's left, Stanley replied, "Good morning, Edward!"

And like that, the older engine sat there idly, waiting to be uncoupled from his train.

But James took note of how Edward's smile slowly diminished, his face losing the soft warmth, matching the late winter cold. It wasn't a frown but it wasn't anything pleasant to signify that the smaller engine was at peace. Something must be bothering him.

"Good morning, Edward~!" James piped, startling Edward. "How's it going?"

While James was all cheery, bright as the morning sun, Edward's day began with a foggy mind, like yesterday's cloudy skies. It was full of thoughts about today, Valentine's Day. Ones that led to thinking about the red engine.

In the past, like other engines, Valentine’s Day was something that Edward didn't care much for. It wasn't something he hated but it wasn't something he was interested in either. It was one of those nice holidays the passengers would celebrate, hoping on trains to visit their loved ones. Seeing them so cheery made Edward bubbly, leaving him in a pleasant mood for the day.

But, oh dear... That morning, he was bubbly for a different reason, and that reason was here. A part of him hoped to not come across the splendidly red engine today. The fear of possibly making his friend uncomfortable with his odd behavior had nagged him since December, and it chose to be his biggest concern that day.

Ever since that December, Edward's mind would return to the subject. He thought about it over and over again, thinking he had come to terms about his feelings the first night at the works. "I have plenty of time." Too much time, if anything. He wanted to understand how and why he felt this strongly for James. He didn't intend to think about the possible outcomes if he told James. Or how other engines would take it. Or how Sir Topham Hatt II would take it.

As his thoughts spiraled, Edward fell into panic and, as normal as a reaction he could have, he boxed them up and shunted them to the back of his mind.

It didn't resolve anything as, unfortunately, the back of his mind spoke the loudest.

Since then, whenever he came across James, his boiler bubbled and those thoughts screamed at him. Is this really what love is all about? People enjoy this feeling, of being on edge about someone they care about? It wasn't fear. Edward knew what it truly felt like, and this... surge of complex emotions wasn't it.

James was a dear friend that he deeply cared about. That he knew for certain. A dear friend whom he had a complicated history with. A roller coaster, if you would. When they met, he hoped to befriend him but with the way Sir Topham Hatt spoke about James...

Edward couldn't help but be envious and scared, thinking that James would replace him. In response, the little blue engine worked, grinding his wheels, close to the point of flattening them until the controller confronted him. Once those thoughts were dispelled, he focused on befriending the newcomer once more.

And yet, everything went south because, of course, what he thought would be helpful, what he believed to be for the best, wasn't.

From mistrust on Edward's end to selfishness on James', it was a relationship that others deemed to be a waste of time. It's not worth saving, he was told. You're both too different! They've heard their fair share of advice.

But with time, the pieces found themselves and they were able to rebuild from there. It was a beautiful way to think of their bond when another engine would remind him of how James could be.

Could. A keyword perfectly describing the splendid red engine in his books.

James could be vain. He could be selfish. He could be rude.

But James could also be kind. He could be selfless at times. He could admit that he was wrong and work to make up for his mistakes. He could very well be confident and, at times, be correct to be so. Edward's seen it. Others have definitely seen it, yet some see past it and focus on what screams the loudest. They didn't care about James' good traits.

He did. He admired the way James was, confident in his strides and willing to do what it takes to make up for any wrongdoing of his. He accepted James the way he was, and he didn't want him any other way.

Noticing how seconds of silence were about to turn into minutes, Edward shook away his thoughts, shunting them away once again. The cerulean engine looked over to his side and piped, "Mornin', James!"

"Another clay delivery?" James eyed the clay trucks trailing behind the other as he approached him, stopping so his buffer beam lined up with Edward's. It meant that their smokeboxes didn't line up as James' was further pushed back than Edward's. He wouldn't see his face, and it worked well in Edward's favor as he was sure that his face was still burning. "Is there a project going on?"

"Ah think sae?" He wasn't exactly sure but he had noticed the sudden rise of materials being delivered to Tidmouth. "Most o' the supplies ah bring thae days ur bein' taken up th' Little Western. I huvnae been able tae ask Duck or Oliver aboot it, though."

"You usually know everything," noted James. From an outsider perspective, it was an insult, but he knew Edward would catch on to what he was laying down.

He did, proven by the sudden quirk of his eyebrows. "Curious aboot somethin'?"

James stayed quiet, meticulously choosing his words. Yes, Edward loved to "chit-chat" but he had some restraints. Some. "Thomas was acting weird this morning. I don't think he likes Valentine's Day. Do you know why?"

Again, quickly falling into their personal routine, his skeptical expression sharpened. "'N' whit wid ye dae, if ah told ye?"

"Nothing, nothing!" reassured the red engine. It was a strict expression Edward bore. This was his son they were speaking about, afterall. How the small tender engine could intimidate in an instant, James couldn't figure out. And he probably never will. "Just curious."

"Mmm, alricht then... Ye say he diz'nae like Valentine's Day?"

"Yes! From the sounds of it."

There was hesitation then. "Ah-" Guilt bubbled within him. "It has somethin' tae dae wit' what happened last year. Ah'm... surprised ye ne'er found oot, seein' how oot o' hand it got-"

"Ok!" His interest very much piqued. I knew something happened! That little rascal! "I'm not leaving until you tell me everything."

Ah- "...everythin'?"

"Everything!" he smirked.

It was enough to lighten up his mood, but he wouldn't look directly at James. "Well, th' twins started teasin' him 'n' Rosie that mornin' aboot thaim possibly bein' together. Frae thare, it got oot o' hand. Thomas wasn't tae happy aboot it. Wit' how he reacted, he hurt Rosie in th' process. They reconciled by th' end of th' day but other engines continued tae tease aboot it." It was when he looked back at James, who simply stared at him with interest and confusion. "Again, ah'm surprised ye didnae hear aboot it."

"That makes two of us," he huffed. "But I don't get it-"

"Whit dinnae ye get?" He wished it wasn't what he thought it was.

"What's so bad about Thomas and Rosie being together? They're friends, aren't they?"

Oh dear... "No, James. Ah-"

But, alas, his persistence naturally flowed, letting his logic spill. "We're friends," he emphasized, unaware of the way Edward's freckled cheeks furiously burned. "We're together-!"

"James!" he squawked before quickly shutting his mouth, face burning. Everyone else in the yard stopped and stared at the two, including their crews. They'd gotten into their own conversation but his outburst caught their attention and concern.

"Is everything alright?" Edward's driver peered out of the cab windows.

Equally concerned and confused, James inched closer, his smokebox lining up with the other's. He saw how pitch black his freckled cheeks became, and how those bronze eyes refused to look right him. "W-We're fine!" he hollered, refusing to look away. "We're fine."

He noticed how a smile, a grateful one, peaked out, only to quickly disappear. I'm in the clear. Maybe.

"...Is it wrong?"

The small cerulean engine shook as gently as he could on his chassis and cleared his pipes. "That's not-" This conversation needed to end. Now. "Ah meant in a romantic wey. Th' wey th' controller 'n' his wife ur!"

"Oh!" His eyes widened, finally understanding the situation. "That makes a lot more sense," he hummed. "...Are they?"

Edward's eyebrows quirked.

"I'll take that as a no." James heard Edward sigh, one that wasn't meant to be heard. "...Did that bother you?"

The smaller tender engine didn't answer, his eyebrows pinched and appearing bothered.

"...so would it be bad for us to be together that way?"

There wasn't any indication of hope in his tone. Only curiosity.

I'm a fool.

Closing his eyes and sighing once more, Edward replied, "Na, it's nae that." Lies. "I just... Ah still feel awful for whit ah did." Not a complete lie...

"What did you do?" Didn't sound like he believed him, his words carried by a playful tone.

"Ah didnae ken whit wis goin' oan either, 'n' it started oan ma line." Lip line crumpling into a frown, the memory came back to him. "Ah didnae mean tae add fuel tae the fire but ma comment upset Rosie. We came across each other at Wellsworth, 'n' she told me that Thomas wis actin' rather rude that day. She thought 'twas because he didnae like her. Ye remember how those twa were whin thay met, dinnae ye?"

James hummed, and Edward continued. "Ah thought somethin' similar happened but ah knew Thomas wasn't lik' that anymair. Ah told her that 'twas strange 'n' that ah thought Thomas really liked her." His nose scrunched up as he frowned. "Ah didnae mean it romantically."

"Is that what you were so upset about then?"

Wait- "Ye clocked?"

James scoffed, insulted. "Course I did." You're my close friend. "If you're upset, I can tell, even without your nose scrunching."

His interest was piqued. "...How exactly kin ye tell?" He looked over, gaze locking with James and paying close attention to how the larger engine responded.

The prideful engine carefully picked his words. "Well, you have this..." he muttered some gibberish, "-presence to yourself. That's as best as I can explain it."

"Ah think ah git it." He wanted to know a little more. He didn't expect an observation from James. It just doesn't happen often. "What kind o' presence?"

The large red engine's pride started to lift up. The small blue engine noticed how James looked around, his eyes calming down from being on high alert. Everyone else must've gotten busy once again. Edward didn't know as he couldn't pull his gaze away from the other engine, carefully observing him. "It's..." his face, in turn, started burning, "-welcoming. It's nice to be around... That day, it didn't feel the same. You were putting up that front but I- it was easy to tell that you were upset about something."

The smaller engine didn't miss the switch up, but he decided to not address it. "Ah didnae mean tae worry a'body." He saw James' smile. A rare one. One that was soft, appreciative, and genuine.

Once Edward realized where his mind was going, he cleared his throat, returning to the original conversation. "Ah said sorry tae Rosie afterwards. She forgave me but ever since then, ah still feel guilty for whit happened. Tis silly, ah ken that, but wi' how Thomas has been actin'-"

"Well, that's on him!" he exclaimed, earning them looks once again. This time, Edward ignored them. "He's not that young engine who constantly followed you around the yard once upon a time!"

"That ah ken-"

"So what gives? You didn't start the rumor, did you?"

"Na, but it did oan ma branch line."

"But did you start it?" he insisted.

Edward hesitated but relented. "No." His partial lie was starting to fall apart. This conversation should've ended a while ago.

"See? Problem solved. So what gives?"

"...I didnae really look forward tae today."

"What? Why not? You didn't mind it before? Was it really because of that?"

"Aye," he quickly replied. "It hud me thinkin' 'n'- well- ah rather nae think too much aboot it." Finally, a decent truth. Not the complete truth but it was still true nonetheless.

"So you don't like the roses all over the place neither?"

"Ah mean... th' roses ur beautiful oan thair own..." he hummed, hesitating to continue. "I like th' white ones."

James smirked. Gotcha! "But Valentine's Day is about the beautiful things! You've said so yourself that it's to appreciate them!"

The urge to just smile started to bubble up, but he opted to roll his eyes playfully. "Ah meant relationships-"

"And your smile's one of them!"

A squeak was hummed and his steam pressure rose as he tried to suppress the silly smile showing up. The smile James just complimented.

He failed, letting himself grin, his crooked lip line curling up and his overbite showing. His soft chuckles quickly became squawks, and he was blushing quite furiously. James turned him into a giddy, flustered mess, and for the moment, he did not mind. The same went for how proud James was becoming capable of making him smile. It was happening more often as they grew closer...

"...so is it bad for us to be together that way?" To Edward, no. He would be perfectly happy if they were.

But what about you? He continued to smile and chuckle as he gazed at James, thinking, Do you feel the same, dear? He just wanted to ask how he felt about such an idea.

But I can't. James had just grasped at the idea of how love worked, beyond platonic relationships. It wasn't fair. It would be cruel and selfish to just ask and tell him, expecting an answer from someone who, just moments ago, didn't think about the mere idea of romance between engines happening.

"We're friends." "We're together-!" "Well, is it wrong?" To be friends, no. Yet in the early age of steam engines, it was considered taboo by railway boards and engines themselves, being seen as a distraction from work. Would engines being together be a problem?

It would. Here he was experiencing the pinning, and he could tell it would become a problem.

So maybe it would be. Maybe it is best to keep it down, his gaze behind fluttering eyes intensified as he laughed, It's best for you, dear.

He wasn't about to drag James right along, possibly into something that could ruin their friendship or him.

Keep it down.

"Ye think tis beautiful?" asked Edward, once his laughter died down. He felt his crew start to work with his gauges, readying him for the return trip to his branch line. "Is it really?" he asked again, timidness and disbelief peaking through.

"You don't believe me?" James mocked, yet blushing furiously. "I don't just go around complimenting everything, you know?"

"Och, ah know," he teased. A small pleased smirk formed, passing off as his typical soft smile. "I ken."

Ready to tease back, James opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by his crew. "Let's get going!" yelled Demian.

The red iron horse loudly groaned and rolled his eyes. Normally, Edward would say something but he let him have it this time. He'd seen the way James' new crew were and understood why James reacted so poorly. He just hoped they could get along sooner rather than later.

"Ah shuid git goin', too," chuckled Edward. "Heaven's kens whit Bill 'n' Ben ur up tae, 'n' ah cannae be leavin' Ryan oan his own wi' thaim." Not after last time, the poor dear.

The bit of humor was enough to cheer James up. "I'll see you around then! Bye, Edward!"

"Bye, James!" With two whistles and a wheesh from releasing his brakes, Edward was off. A part of him was sad to leave, but another was glad. The giddiness bubbling within his boiler persisted throughout their chat, gradually raising his steam pressure. A sensation once unpleasant was now welcome. Very welcome, indeed.

He was curious as to why his crew had made no mention of it. They were suspiciously quiet.

As he got back on the Main Line, he began to wonder, Is this what a fluttering heart feels like? Is this what they call ‘butterflies’? He heard that expression many times these days. The feeling was soothing yet uneasy, the latter of which becoming infrequent.

“Lovesick, ah truly am,” he whispered as he puffed away, shocked at how loud James and his crew's bickering was but unaware of how his own crew whispered to one another.

Back in the yard, James and Demian bickered about, the latter ready to use stronger language. Richard stayed in the engine's cab, watching with disinterest. His mind was busy with another thought. Unlike the clueless red engine, he wasn't convinced of Edward's reasoning. I'll make a note to tell James, he decided as he poked out of the cab, ready to separate the two. But first, work.

~

important note: so in terms of when "Rosie is Red," "The Fastest Red Engine on Sodor," and this fic happen, "Rosie is Red" happens first, one year before thie fic and Rosie is yet to be repainted red. "The Fastest Red Engine on Sodor" happens after this fic, which is when Rosie is repainted, including "An Engine of Many Colors."

Happy 5/2, everyone! :3

story threw me in whirlwind when i thought it was done 😞 Kept going back and forth on some plot points. Its not even close to the original idea anymore but im happy with how it turned out! :DD

expect an upload on my site at some point. i'll reblog the post once i do 👍

so instead of my normal rambling, have this! <3 (a repost from last year hehe)

oh and the cover art too! :3 glad i got this done in time, enough for me to edit the story. as of posting and reblogging, im going back to sleep or smth. idk.

i hope you enjoyed this short story! :D comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! <3

[the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au]

Sodor's Legend of the Lost Treasure - Rewrite Notes

March - June 1968

Sodor's Legend of the Lost Treasure (2015)

Since the restoration of the Arlesburgh Branch Line, the North Western Railway has wanted to expand their railway beyond Arlesburgh West. In late 1967, the board approved the plan and got the documents needed to construct the railway. Construction began in March of 1968. Engines from surrounding branch lines are tasked to help out, including a newcomer to help him adjust to railway service once again.

As the title says, these are just notes. Mainly for reference.

there's some 1x1014 but its in the author's notes, not the actual rewrite notes

~

SAME UP UNTIL Ryan's introduction

Ryan's introduction: Ryan thinks that the branch line Sir Topham Hatt II is referring to is the Brendam Branch Line. Sir Topham Hatt II quickly clarifies that he's currently needed to help with the construction of the Harwick Branch Line. This slip up doesn't initially bother Thomas. If anything, he isn't bothered by him as a threat. He's bothered by Ryan for interrupting the conversation between Sir Topham Hatt and him. He thinks Ryan is disrespectful for this, especially because of his expression.

Ryan's headlamp placement prevents his eyebrows from moving around so much so they're pretty static in terms of pose. His lack of expression gives the impression that he's egotistical or overconfident.

Thomas is brought out of his own thoughts once Sir Topham Hatt grabs his attention. As punishment, Thomas gets his branch line taken away, which STH II sees as an opportunity for Ryan to get used to passenger service. This is where the one-sided rivalry starts.

Thomas expresses his frustrations about getting his branch line taken away. He doesn't blame anyone else.

SAME UP UNTIL Thomas shows up at the construction site after being quickly repaired.

Thomas overhears how Sir Topham Hatt praises Ryan for his work, telling him that he's getting adjusted faster than expected.

While Thomas was gone, Percy had shown up. Percy compliments how Ryan worked with the passenger train. He also makes mention of Annie and Clarabel's opinion, who do enjoy working with him. They all mean this as progress of Ryan re-adjusting to regular service but this rubs Thomas the wrong way. He didn't get the same comments when he first started. Instead, he got scolded and lectured over and over again.

SAME UP UNTIL Thomas come across Ryan at the shed.

Thomas gets spooked by Ryan. Ryan has white irises so when a light reflects on it, it ends up scaring others. he's used to it- scene continues as normal tho

SAME UP UNTIL Thomas and Ryan reconcile.

Ryan's apology is the same.

Thomas apologizes for treating Ryan the way he did. He comments how he thought he was before getting to know him, that he looked like he knew everything, only for Ryan to chuckle. Turns out Ryan was used to it.

Ryan: "That's a new one."

Thomas: ???

Ryan: "I guess my restoration didn't do much for me in that department. Let me guess. Do I look tired, too?"

Thomas: "…Yes. You do."

Ryan: chuckles "Well, it's… hard not to when you've got a lamp attached to your forehead all the time. Next time we speak, don't worry about my face. It'll save you the trouble."

Thomas: "I could've done that! If I had told you about the coal hopper, the dynamite- mess- that wouldn't have happened in the first place."

Conversation continues as canon.

SAME UP UNTIL Branch Line opening ceremony

Daisy and Flora are the ones to open the branch line as they will be the engines running it.

~

Not too many changes. These were done to fit my HC! I'm working on something else involving Ryan (for 2.5 seconds) and I somewhat started going into his backstory, so I diverted for a bit and wrote this! :)

Finally, something not involving Edward and James. About time! XD

and because i feel like it, have a few treats from me <3

totally accurate representation of post-SLotLT 1x1014 (or in my cases, 1x1724(GNR) / 32 (NWR))

i purposely shrunk Thomas from the actual TVS canon hieghts (they're the exact same) because i wanted to emphasize that inferiority complex between the two from the beginning. (Thomas wasn't rebuilt until 1960 in my headcanon)

also short king thom for the win!!!

i wonder what happens once Ryan starts working on Edward's branchline. jealousy is TOO obvious. SURELY i wouldn't write that, right?

lies

Busted out my markers for this one.

Here's what im basically trying to say here but condensed. (Haha, condensers)

His lamp iron (that's the thing on his forehead) restricts his eyebrow movement! I've been meaning to play around with this concept as other classes in my AU have this instead of it sitting on top of the smokebox.

silver eyes, my beloved. Unfortunately, they're reflective af and ends up spooking other engines. he's used to it...

livery layout is the same as the original GNR livery, but he doesn't get a darker shade of purple.

fighting with my life with his nose shape. kept fucking it up so i drew it out.

chassis rough design for my own sanity. simplifying it because it'll fit better... and for my sanity. and for the sake of consistency in terms of level of detail, haha-

wears his original number, GNR 1724 but does carry the plate with his NWR number. (BR NW-40032, later NWR S32 in 1992)

this happened because i may or may not have bingewatched SLotLT twice (along with KoTR, TotB, JBS, and s17-21) this week. oops.

[the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au]

update: im combining both AUs into one. it's too hectic and i really dont want to repost a story for such a small change 💀

new au name is the cerene rewritten railway au

[the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au]

This also extends to this AU!

Popping in a day early to announce that "You've Got Mail" will be in an indefinite hiatus.

Reason: i'm starting uni soon AND I have a better plan for writing it out :3

[the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au]

New AU name! Welcome to "The Rewritten Railway" AU!

I've been meaning to rename this AU for some time but I finally came up with a name for it. Changes were made because I wanted to expand a bit beyond Sodor, aka the Mainland with the preserved engines or the NWR engines possibly leaving for the Mainland. It will still be centered around the NWR engines but this allows me to expand beyond that.

Also, i didn't like the old name. It was too long. This one is more clear about my intentions with this AU. 💙 AND I can have a better name for the version with my ships!

I will be retagging everything as #the rewritten railway au AND #the lovely rewritren railway au.

[the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au]

Thomas and the Pacifics

May 1930

The Adventure Begins (2015)

Word Count: 1,276

Thomas meets Henry, and Gordon teaches Thomas a lesson.

~

Once Thomas, Edward, and James arrived at Tidmouth, the mogul rushed away to find Annie and Clarabel. The smaller engines settled closer to the station. From where they were, Thomas noticed Emily waiting at the Big Station. She seemed cross and anxious, looking at something every few seconds.

“Could ye be a dear and shunt the Express coaches for Emily?” The E2 glanced at the 4-4-0, who appeared to be giddy. However, it was more like a failed attempt at hiding his giddiness. “I usually dae it but I hae a guids train tae take.”

“What? But I thought we'd be working together! Just like you said!”

“I'll haste ma boiler!” Edward's reassurance didn't do much for Thomas. Considering how long the Main Line was and how long it took Thomas to travel it, “soon” would be more than an hour for Edward.

And before Thomas could protest, Edward was off, leaving the tank engine alone. With a huff, the khaki engine scuttled about the yard, getting to work.

As Thomas passed the water tower and coal hopper, he noticed the green tender engine from the night before. “Hello there!” Might as well! “I'm Thomas. Who are you?”

“Henry,” he scoffed. “So you're the Fat Controller's new engine?”

“I am!” The tank engine puffed up, feeling unwelcome. “What about it?”

With mirth, Henry replied, “Nothing.” Henry's fireman climbed in and petted his cab. Said engine pulled away, leaving Thomas behind.

…

Eventually, Edward returned, though looking different.

“What are those?” asked Thomas, focused on the metal piece perched on Edward’s nose.

“Och, these?” he chuckled. “They’re glasses. I didnae mention it, did I?”

“No! But why?”

“Ma age might be gettin’ tae me!” The joke fell flat. “Anyhow, I see ye’ve done well!”

“My class was built for shunting! I told you that!”

“And thon ye did! Ye kept yer word, mate.” With two short whistles, Edward rolled along. “Ye take a break. I’ll take care o’ things frae here.”

“But-”

“I insist!”

“But-” I was built for this!  “-you’re a tender engine!”

“Diz’nae stop me frae ma job, noo diz it?” And he was off again.

Thomas pouted but relented. The late spring heat was getting to him. He eyed a shady spot at the edge of the yard. He settled down with his crew keeping an eye on his fire and chatting in his cab, occasionally petting their engine.

Then the afternoon came. And when afternoon came around, it was time for the noon Express. Thomas, now rested, grabbed the Express coaches temporarily set aside during his break and shunted them to the platform. With practiced ease, the tank engine reversed and braked, settling the rack of coaches.

He was thankful for these coaches. Such polite beings they could be when treated properly. “Thank you, thank you!” chortled the brake coach. “Thomas, was it?”

“Yes, ma’am!” replied the khaki tank engine. Such a drastic attitude compared to the few accidental bumps he gave them.

“Just in time! I’m impressed,” mocked Gordon as he backed down. “Unlike this morning…”

“Try sleeping somewhere else!” snapped Thomas, ignoring his crew. “Far away from your old home!”

“Oh, hurry up you!”

“Hurry up yourself!” With that, Thomas kept his mouth shut, right after apologizing for yelling in the brake coach’s face. She scolded him— a complete 180 of her attitude from mere moments ago.

He was not aware of Gordon’s grin. He didn't hear what Gordon said. The only warning he got was Gordon pulling him right along.

“Gordon, stop!” hollered the tank engine but the blue Pacific didn't listen. The noise of pistons pumping got louder and faster. Oh no, oh no, oh no! “Gordon!”

The stationmaster blew his whistle frantically, some of the passengers hollered, and the yardman chased after Thomas but it was too late. Gordon was off with the Express, pulling poor Thomas right along.

Green pastures and lush hills were nothing but blurs to the tank engine. His wheels ached as Gordon thundered past Knapford and Crosby. “Stop, stop!” exclaimed Thomas.

“Hurry, hurry!” Oh, if Thomas didn't like Gordon before, he sure didn't now. “Keep up!”

Cheeks burning, it was becoming harder to puff steam. The fast pumps of his piston drained his water supply. Oh, when will it end? When will it end? He needed to stop. At this rate, he felt like he would fall apart.

And as soon as Thomas pleaded, Maron Hill came into view. Its steep incline proved to be difficult for the grand blue engine, and the tank engine was ever thankful. With the little grace provided, he caught his breath.

He took in those few seconds as before he knew it, the ground was flat and Gordon would be off again. He braced himself for a burst of speed but it never happened. Instead, Gordon kept a steady pace.

Wait a minute. Is this the station on the hilltop? He recalled seeing it on his way to Tidmouth but he never got its name.

And much to his relief, it was. It was Gordon's next stop.

The Express engine came to a halt.

Finally, it was over as his driver applied the brakes.

His fireman, Archibald Higginbottom, or “Archie” as he was called, scrambled out of the cab with a shunter's pole and uncoupled the engine. He beat the awaiting yardman, who'd been notified of the incident.

“Now, little Thomas,” boasted Gordon. “Now you know what real work looks like!” Boisterous laughter erupted from the Pacific as he steamed away, leaving the poor tank engine behind.

“Come on, lad!” Archie stroked Thomas’ running board. “Let's get you some water!”

The tank engine hummed but once Mr. Perkins released his brakes, the ache struck the khaki engine. He tried to reach the water tower after the station but he only managed a meter or two.

“Come on, Thomas!” encouraged Archie.

“I can't-!” His voice cracked. The exhaustion was thick and clear. “I'm sore.”

“Well, we can't block the Main Line! Try again!”

“Wait!” Mr. Perkins popped out of his cab and pushed his body upwards on the edge. “I think an engine's coming! We can ask for help.”

“Who's coming down the line right now?” Archie scratched his sideburns absentmindedly. “No one should be coming down by now!”

A bright whistle was heard from a distance.

“We just might be in luck!” laughed Mr. Perkins before hollering, “Edward!”

The cerulean tender engine came around the bend. He came to a sudden stop, seemingly out of breath. “Thomas!”

“Perkins, is everything alright?” exclaimed Charlie.

“Once Thomas gets to the water tower, it will be.” He gestured towards the subject and was aware of the older engine's behavior. “Can you get Edward to move him?”

With a nod, Charlie pet Edward's cab. “Come on, lad. Let's get you switched over!”

“Aye, driver!” The tender engine backed up, switched over, and buffered up to Thomas. “Let's get you over there!”

Edward carefully shunted Thomas over. While the tender engine ignored the passengers, the tank engine felt embarrassed. Some of the passengers stared at the pair, particularly focused on the khaki engine. They were bewildered yet confused about why a tank engine was attached to a passenger train. Murmurs and gossip passed around, and it worried the crews.

“We’re almost there, Thomas,” soothed Mr. Perkins. “Ignore them.”

“This doesn't look good, Perkins.” Archie was on the edge, sweaty palms making the shovel slip from his hands. Once Thomas was at the water tower, the awaiting yardman worked to refill the engine’s tanks. “This is sure to make the railway look bad.”

Mr. Perkins huffed. “I only hope it gets Gordon to behave…”

~

As of posting this, I'll be taking a break from this arc and jump ahead in the timeline. The story I have in mind has been there for a while, and I can safely say that it won't be affected or affect stories before it. Yes, its important but it can stand on its own. It's getting a little dull, haha- so I'm gonna move to something I have ideas for.

With that out of the way, introducing Thomas' fireman! The Mr. Perkins segments are really nostalgic to me so I thought it would be fitting to have him be Thomas' first driver on the NWR, but I don't remember seeing Archie, unfortunately. However, Archie, from at first glance, reminds me of Junior from TaTMR (which i haven't finished watching, oops-). I wouldn't be surprised if they are played by the same actor though, lol.

As funny as CGI Henry can be, he does get annoying FAST. I absolutely LOVE early model era Henry so I'm gonna combine both, like I do with Emily. Compared to the previous rewrite I did, I like this a lot better since it does show that side more than the previous one.

Starting to limit the POVs I've been writing because if I don't, it gets chaotic f a s t. :(

Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Ty for reading! 🩵🌙

[the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au]

"It's Just a Little Derailment!"

May 1930

The Adventure Begins (2015)

Word Count: 579

Thomas derails in the yard.

~

By the time the sun fully rose, Thomas was the last one sleeping in, loudly snoring. The other engines didn’t mind it. Besides, they were used to Gordon’s snoring and James’ muttering. A little more noise wouldn’t hurt. The tank engine struggled to sleep in his new home the night before and fell asleep hours after Edward did.

Said engine was accompanied by James, and the pair poked their smokeboxes—“like curious dogs,” their crews often joke —into the sheds. The latter stuck around for amusement, only to be annoyed instead.

“Thomas!” whispered Edward as the tank engine’s crew struggled to keep his fire going. “Thomas, get up!”

Heterochromatic eyes rolled at the bronze-eyed engine's attempts. “With that voice, you’re just pulling him into deep sleep!”

“I rather no’ wake him up wit’ a start!”

“Well, I'm not sticking around any further!”

“Whit ur ye-?”

The black tender engine blasted his whistle. The shrill pierced Edward’s smokebox, startled the crews, and shook Thomas awake. “Bloody hell, James!” scolded the khaki tank engine.

“Bloody hell, yourself!” retorted James, scoffing at Edward's glare. “You didn't think your muttering would actually wake him up, did you?”

“Naw, but-”

“And don’t you have a train to pull?”

“Aye-!”

“Then you should be grateful!”

“I am!” Edward internally winced at his own volume. Raising his voice? Who did he think he was? “I am.” Much better. “I just wish ye could've given a warnin’.”

“To you?”

…Maybe. “Naw.”

“Excuse me!” Thomas piped up. Maybe that whistle was a good wake-up call as he couldn't feel sleepiness in his system. “I can't get out if you’re in the way!”

Bronze eyes widened. “Och, dear- Sorry!” As quickly and carefully as Edward could, he backed away and switched tracks. “Is thon-?”

“I’m running late!” The khaki tank engine bolted out of his berth.

“Thomas-!” Edward braced himself, knowing he didn't have enough time to move out of the way. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the feeling of crushed buffers never came.

With a peek, Edward was surprised to see Thomas mere inches away from him, derailed.

“No"s spilled from the E2, who tried getting back on the rails. He jerked back, jostling his crew in his cab like a wild bull, who tried to calm him down. To other engines, it was a small derailment. Nothing to fret about. But to him? Oh, god, they’ll find out how defective he was. And when they do, they'll send him packing to the Southern Railway, and who knows what they’ll do to him.

The Southern Railway sold him off to this small railway, quicker than any sale he’s ever seen or heard about. He wasn't oblivious. His siblings weren't either. They were very aware of their poor performance. They failed to do their intended job because of how they were built, and they couldn't change that.

Thomas couldn't change that.

So when Edward buffered up to him and pushed him back, Thomas was shocked. The voices of Mr. Perkins and Archie guiding Edward came to him, the pair having climbed off at some point. “What-?”

“Thare ye go!” cheered the blue tender engine. “Back oan the rails! Come oan, ye two. We've got work tae dae!”

Stumped, Thomas didn't catch onto James’ muttering as he distantly followed Edward. The smaller tender engine pushed him back on the rails with ease. It was practically a nudge.

Was it really that simple? pondered the large tank engine as his crew opened his regulator and released his brakes. With a slow start, Thomas rolled down the tracks onto the Main Line.

~

Notes

This was supposed to be part of another part but I felt like there would've been too much going on in that part, so I cut it down to just this scene. SO here we are. A short one at that! Not including TGR 2x5 Roleswap, this is my shortest fic by far.

I didn't consider this a rewrite until I remembered the scene where Henry is trying to wake Thomas up so yeah-

I like both newbieTAB!Thomas and RWS/ClassicEra!Thomas, so I combined both for Thomas' introduction arc.

Rewriting this from scratch actually helped, as well as finding out that music does not help (I rewrote it in between class 💀 I had time to kill so why not, pft-)

Hope you enjoyed! Comments + reblogs are appreciated :]

[the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au]

Story Master Post: 1890s

~

🩷 Rhys (Autumn 1899; December 1968)

Someone else was his first love interest.

[the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au]

The Two Smallest Engines

May 1930

The Adventure Begins (2015)

Word Count: 3,543

Since the end of the 1920 Locomotive Crisis Loan, the North Western Railway has been struggling to continue operation with its five engines. Sir Bertram Topham Hatt II makes a big decision: purchase a tank engine for the railway.

~

On a sunny afternoon, Edward, the smallest engine on the North Western, was working in Tidmouth Yard. He was chatting with Emily, who was slightly larger than him. The smallest of the two was waiting to be uncoupled from a train of empty trucks when a grand blue tender engine rolled into the yard with-

"A goods train, a goods train! The shame of it! Oh, the shame of it!" he complained. His voice boomed throughout the yard, reaching the station.

The pair of smaller engines sighed, annoyed. "For guidness sake, it's no yon most shameful thin’ ye're doin, Gordon!" Edward reprimanded as he looked at the express passenger engine. "Ye ken thon we've been havin’ more guids trains every year."

"And why can't James take them? Wasn't he bought for that reason?"

"He wiz," replied Edward, "but traffic has grown more than expectit since, especially durin’ the summer season."

Gordon huffed.

"Oh, get over it!" called out the Stirling Single. "You didn't have a problem with it before. What's so different now?"

"Other engines did most of the goods work," replied Gordon. "You should've been glad that was the case back then."

"How come?" She squinted suspiciously.

"You're very outdated, Emily," he sneered. "Old, weak, and slow. Those large wheels of yours are nothing but an inconvenience to your performance."

Emily gasped, and her face scrunched up in fury. "I-!"

"Wrap it, both o' ye," scolded Edward. He looked at the larger cerulean engine. "Start headin’ tae the station, Gordon. I'll shunt the Express coaches in a moment." He looked over to the GNR green engine. "Emily, yer guids train is ready. Please, jist git tae it."

Emily sighed. She wheeshed, a final blow towards Gordon, before leaving to pick up her goods train.

Gordon huffed, heading to the station to wait for the Express coaches. "Once the new engine arrives, I better not keep pulling them."

Edward froze. "New engine?" he exclaimed, rolling forward. "Whit new engi- Och!" He suddenly jerked back, having not been uncoupled yet. The little tender engine quickly shot an apologetic smile to the workman who had approached him with a shunter's pole.

Once Edward was uncoupled, Gordon continued. "He bought a new engine. Might replace you or one of the others."

His nose twitched. "Excuse me-?"

"Wouldn't be surprised, especially with James when we all found out about his wooden brakes."

"That doesn’t make me useless!" someone exclaimed.

Suddenly, James screeched to a halt into the yard. Gordon and Edward halted as they neared the track the black tender engine rolled on.

"James…" muttered Gordon.

"I'll have you know, my brakes work just fine! My stops are much better than any of yours."

"Oh, but at what cost?" he asked mockingly. "What about that black cloud coming from your brakes the other day?"

The ex-L&YR Class 28 huffed. "I may not be as 'grand' as you," he replied, avoiding the question. "But I'm bigger and stronger than the smaller two," he finished with a prideful smirk directed at the smallest engine.

Edward could only be unamused.

"You may be stronger but you're barely any bigger,” argued Gordon. “Your ego is, though, by a long shot."

James jerked his smokebox door open. Steam blasted out and spread throughout the surrounding area. Fuming and scrunching up his face in fury, he glared and wheeshed steam at Gordon.

"James, could ye please move along?" asked Edward, not wanting to have to separate the pair if needed. He wasn’t sure what happened between them. Five years ago, they got along just fine, minus the minor disagreement. "Gordon, jist go wait at the station. I'll be there with the Express coaches."

"But-" said Gordon.

"Go. Noo,” he repeated sternly.

Just as he expected, both engines grumbled. Once James shut his smokebox door, both larger engines left.

“My brakes work just as good as yours!” He heard James holler at Gordon in vain.

Edward wheeshed the very little steam he could and sighed before he fetched the Express coaches.

…

Days went by as the engines waited for the newcomer but there was no sign or announcement about them. While the others didn't think much about it, Edward would occasionally look around as he worked in the yard, hoping to catch sight of the new engine. Unaware of his crew, Charlie and Sidney were humored by his behavior.

A few weeks later, a tank engine rolled into Tidmouth Yard. He peered around the yard, looking for something, or someone. His new crew let him do his thing, as they were informed by the previous crew that this particular engine liked to get to know his surroundings.

"Tidmouth, Tidmouth, Tidmouth…" he murmured.

Earlier, at the crack of dawn, he asked his crew not to show him the way to his final destination once they reached the Vicarstown Drawbridge. There was no ship available from Southampton Docks to the Island of Sodor, not until August, so he was sent by land. Once the ex-LBSCR E2 reached the bridge, he was bored so he challenged himself.

He was really regretting it now.

Suddenly, a loud shrill rang throughout the yard. The lost newcomer was startled, trembling on his six-driving wheels.

The little tank engine frowned. What a way to welcome some-engine, he thought with a huff.

An engine came from the turn up ahead. "Hey, you!" he exclaimed and laughed.

"Bloody hell, ya bloke!" the little engine exclaimed. "Some manners ya have."

"Alright, sheesh! I didn't mean to frighten you like that."

"Of course, you didn't."

"Well, I didn't!" James exclaimed, in a "matter-of-fact" tone. "You seem lost. Where are you heading?"

Meanwhile, Edward was being uncoupled from a set of giggling Troublesome Trucks, having played with them for a bit, when he overheard them.

"Tidmouth!" A voice, unknown to Edward, exclaimed. "Do ya know where it is?

Edward stilled and stayed quiet, quickly shushing the Troublesome Trucks. Surprisingly, not to him, they listened.

"But you're already in Tidmouth!" chuckled James. "Where are you from?"

"The Southern Railway. All the way down south in Brighton." He eyed James quizzically. "What's up with your eyes? Why are they different colors? Did something happen? Were they like that since ya were built-?"

As the engine continued to ramble on and James fumed, Edward gasped. He whispered excitedly, "Bertram's new engine!" The elder blue tender engine whistled as he backed up slowly. Charlie, his driver, gently pet his outer cab and chuckled along with the fireman, Sidney, seeing the excitement of their cerulean engine.

Once Edward backed up to line up to James and saw the new engine, he was shocked and gasped.

The new engine was tiny. He had no tender, his coal box being right behind the cab on the back of the engine. The little engine had a short stumpy dome, a short stumpy funnel, and six small, blue wheels, but they was as tall as he and James were. A normal tank engine, Edward realized.

His livery was a pale brown, Khaki, Edward figured, with white lining. The letters "SR" and the number 107 with a small B above it were painted white on the side of his tanks. His eyes were dark teal, looking around the yard excitedly as he rambled on.

"...I've heard so many things about Sodor. What's it-" The new engine noticed Edward, who was slightly smaller than James, staring at him. "Hello? Is something the matter?" He scrunched up his face, looking at his round nose. "Do I have soot on my face?"

"Och, whit? Naw, naw… It's jist�� ye're… small," said Edward awkwardly, slightly confused and still shocked.

"No, I'm not," huffed the E2, annoyed. "I was one of the larger shunters on the Southern Railway!"

"Oh really?" James teased.

"Well, I was big enough to do my job just fine in Victoria and London.” Maybe too big… “I can do the same here!" the tank engine fumed and he moved along.

"Wait, wait! Thon's no how I meant it!" Edward quickly chuffed backward. "It's jist… ye're very different tae everyane else… I huvnae seen a wee tank engine like ye in years."

The little khaki tank engine huffed again. "I may be a 'wee' tank engine, ‘sir,’ but I'm very hardworking!" he expressed pridefully.

"S-Sir?" Edward exclaimed, startled and flustered as he saw James backing up with boisterous laughter.

“Old…” murmured James.

Edward’s glare was all in vain.

Suddenly, Gordon thundered into the shunting yard. He came to a halt with a whistle and laughed. "And who are you?"

"I'm Thomas," the khaki tank engine puffed pridefully. “Your director named me!”

"The new engine!" Edward emphasized with excitement as James reversed, stopping right next to Edward.

"Oh dear," the grand express engine mourned mockingly. "The Fat Director must've made a terrible mistake. I think he was expecting someone really… useful."

"I am useful," Thomas huffed. He didn't like this grand blue engine. He didn’t feel welcome. So full of himself. So disrespectful when he’d only just arrived!

Edward noticed and felt guilty for Thomas, especially for his own words. He hadn't even introduced himself properly.

Gordon laughed dismissively. "For fetching coaches, perhaps. Oh well. If you stick around long enough, you might be lucky enough to see me pulling the Express,” he boasted before he whistled and departed. "That will be a fine sight for you."

Thomas glared at the Gresley experimental Pacific as he passed by. "Without me, he wouldn't have an Express to pull," he muttered and rolled his eyes. He didn't like him at all.

Edward sighed. "I'm sorry aboot Gordon. I'm afraid he's like thon." He inched forward. "I'm sorry for whit I said earlier. I dinnae mean any offense tae ye. Where were ma manners… I'm Edward."

“And I'm James,” introduced the larger mixed-traffic engine, following Edward.

Another voice spoke from a distance. "Hello there, hello!"

"And there's the Fat-"

"Sir Topham Hatt!" Edward forced a smile as James scoffed at him, muttering “Rude.”

"Hello there!" A short, well-dressed, chubby man exclaimed as he and his assistants approached the newcomer. He was excited to see Thomas once again. "I’m glad you three made it safely. Welcome to the North Western Railway, Thomas," said Sir Topham Hatt II with pride, gesturing to the surrounding area. "Pardon me for the introduction a few days ago. I am Sir Topham Hatt, the director of this fine railway. You will become a great addition to the place. I expect you to do very well as Edward will be mentoring you."

"Of course, sir!" replied Thomas.

"Alright then. Go on with your work! I shall be checking up on your progress now and then for the first week," exclaimed Sir Topham Hatt II. He dismissed the engines before walking away with his two assistants.

Once Sir Topham Hatt II was gone, Edward said, "He's right. The others will be arriving soon."

"Fine, fine," huffed James as he rolled away from the yard, heading to the Main Line.

"Where's he going?" Thomas asked.

"Tae Brendam Docks, I presume," Edward replied. "He diz'nae hae any passenger duties until later."

"Passenger duties?" Thomas flipped his smokebox door open and looked at James. "Isn't he a goods engine?"

"Well, his class was meant for goods trains…" Edward replied and hummed. "Things are different here."

Thomas thought for a moment. "Will I be able to do that?"

Edward hummed. "Maybe. But right noo, ye need tae focus oan whit I need tae teach ye during your trainin."

"And what are we going to start with?"

"Shuntin."

"Shunting? My class was practically built to shunt."

"Well, it diz'nae hurt tae practice, especially in a new railway. No everything is the same as oan the Mainland."

"Really? How come?"

"The Troublesome Trucks ur more tedious and difficult tae deal wit, thon's ane thin'. And the yards ur much smaller here than oan the Mainland, if ye take a quick look around. And this yard is the largest oan Sodor, besides Vicarstown," Edward replied. "Give me a moment, I need tae git the Express coaches ready for Gordon. I'll be back in a bit."

Thomas hummed in response as Edward chuffed away. The steam shunter looked around, examining the yard. It was much smaller than the ones in the Southern Railway. It was slightly smaller than the smallest yard in the Southern Railway.

"How much smaller is the smallest yard here?" he mumbled to himself.

He chuffed around Tidmouth Yard, struggling with the tight turns. Hopefully, Edward and others didn’t take notice. He didn’t need to be reminded of how troublesome his performance was. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his fault that he performed this way. 

As Thomas wandered about, he heard two voices. His eyes followed the sound, eventually landing on two auburn passenger coaches, tucked away neatly in what appeared to be a carriage shed.

"I'm worried about James' brakes, Annie. Honestly, I smell nothing but ash whenever he brakes!" The coach with the name "Clarabel" painted in white on their sides whispered.

Annie, the other coach with her name painted on as well, replied, "So do I, Clarabel! It bothers me so much. I do hope the Fat Director figures something out…"

The two auburn coaches were unaware of the khaki shunter looking at them. From his own experience, coaches could either be sweet with reasonable sternness or absolutely hostile. There was no in-between, just a game of chance when it came to them. He nervously approached them as he felt lonely. "Hello there.”

Annie and Clarabel suddenly went quiet. "Who was that, Annie?" the latter asked.

"It's a new engine! Hello there, little one!"

Thomas huffed. "I'm not little!"

The pair giggled at the newcomer’s fussiness. "What's your name? You must be new around here," said Clarabel.

"I am! My name is Thomas," Thomas replied. "I'm from the Southern Railway."

"Hello, Thomas. I’m Annie," said Annie.

"And I'm Clarabel," Clarabel greeted.

"And we are the Ffarquhar Branch Line’s coaches," they said in unison.

"Figures," said Thomas. “I don’t think two coaches can handle mainline passenger service.”

"Smart, smart!" said Clarabel.

"Indeed," said Annie but froze as she noticed a familiar face through Thomas' front cab window. "Mr. Perkins?"

"Mr. Perkins?" exclaimed Clarabel.

"Mr. Perkins?" asked Thomas, confused.

A soft chuckle came from Thomas' cab. His driver, Gilbert Perkins, popped his head out of the cab. "Hello, you two. It's been a while!"

"Hello, Mr. Perkins!" greeted the auburn coaches.

Thomas was confused. "You know each other?"

"Oh, of course, we do!" exclaimed Annie. 

"He was our old engine's driver," giggled Clarabel.

Just then, Edward returned.

"I'm back, Thomas!" Edward exclaimed as he chuffed into the yard. The elder blue tender engine took notice of the scene. "Och, I see ye've met Annie and Clarabel- Mr. Perkins?" he exclaimed.

"Hello there, Edward!" replied Mr. Perkins.

Edward flabbergasted. "Ye-"

"Looks like I’m a permanent driver from now on!" he exclaimed with excitement. “Can’t wait to work with this fella,” he continued, petting Thomas' cab, who laughed at the interaction. “Nice to see you’re doing well, old boy.” With that, Mr. Perkins popped right back into the tank engine’s cab.

"Oh, hello, Edward!" said Clarabel. "You're guiding Thomas, right?"

"Be sure to teach him well, Edward!" Annie exclaimed.

"Please do!" continued Clarabel, before dropping her voice down to a whisper. "And maybe James while you're at it."

"Noo, I dinnae ken aboot thon last ane, but I will try, ma'ams. Noo, git some rest. It will be a while before James comes back," Edward replied, reminding the two auburn coaches.

Annie and Clarabel hummed in reply.

"We shall chat some other time then!" exclaimed Annie.

"Indeed! It was a pleasure meeting you, Thomas," said Clarabel.

"Goodbye, Thomas! Goodbye, Edward!" The two sister coaches exclaimed before getting some shut-eye.

"Goodbye!" the two engines replied. They puffed away as quietly as they could from the carriage shed.

Once they were far away enough, Thomas asked, "So, where do we start?"

"Wit’ the regular freight trucks!" replied Edward.

…

Edward and Thomas spent the rest of the afternoon shunting. Though Thomas grew a bit exhausted, that didn't mean he had no energy to be cheeky.

During the late afternoon, Gordon was resting in the yard. Thomas was beside Edward, resting from the day's work when the little khaki tank engine noticed.

Thomas sneaked up on Gordon on the track next to him as Edward looked at him, confused. He was shocked when Thomas' whistle shrilled throughout the yard.

The loud noise startled Gordon awake as Thomas exclaimed, "Wake up, lazy-bones! Why don't you be as useful as me!" Cheeky laughter tumbled off his tongue as he raced away.

Edward couldn't help but laugh at the little tank engine's cheekiness, following him and leaving behind an annoyed Gordon.

…

Evening approached when Emily pulled into Tidmouth Yard. Thomas noticed her, in awe of her shape. She looked very different from the other engines. "Who's that?" he asked with curiosity as he backed away from a few trucks.

Edward followed suit from the train of empty cars, lining buffer to buffer to Thomas on a different track. "Thon's Emily," he replied. "She's the ane wha pulls the mornin’ Wild Nor' Wester."

“The what?”

“The Express.”

“Really? She-”

The Stirling Single’s whistle shrilled throughout the area, grabbing Edward and the tank engine’s attention. Within minutes, she approached the other two.

"Good evening, Edward! Who is this?" Emily excitedly asked.

"Guid evenin’, Emily! This is Be- the Fat Director’s new engine!" he replied.

"Hello, I'm Thomas!" the E2 greeted.

"Hello! My name is Emily," the ex-GNR Stirling Single replied. "I'm about to head back to the shed. Are you two heading back?"

"In a bit. We jist need tae finish up here," Edward replied.

"Ah, alright then. I'll see you two later," Emily said before lowering her voice. "I just hope the others aren't there already…"

"James and Gordon ur. Henry's no due until much later."

"I was hoping it wasn’t either of those two. Henry's much more bearable…" she grumbled.

"Dinnae worry, Emily. Dinnae mind em."

Thomas spoke up. "What's wrong with James? He seemed nice!”

"James is a bit…" Emily hummed, "...rude."

"But he can be nice, like earlier," Edward pointed out. "It's jist… rare tae see him be like thon…”

"Oh," Thomas said. "So you pull the morning Express?"

"Ah, I see you've heard," Emily replied teasingly. "I used to pull it all the time until Gordon arrived to help. The Other Director was concerned about my age so he bought Gordon from my old railway."

"So Gordon's the Number Three?"

"That would be me!” piped up Emily, gesturing towards her tender. “Henry's number four. Then Gordon's number five. James is number six, and, well…"

"I would be number seven?"

"Yes," replied Edward quickly.

"You really like to ask a lot of questions, don't you?" chuckled Emily.

"I just have to know!" huffed Thomas defensively. The tender engines laughed at his fussiness. "It's a new railway. I don't want to be wandering around like a fool! I want to know what I’m doing!"

"And ye will wit’ time, Thomas! Wit’ time," chuckled Edward, just as Emily yawned.

"Sorry," she quickly piped. "I'm chuffed! I'll see you two back at the shed. Bye!" The apple green single pulled out of the yard, onto the mainline, and headed to Knapford Shed.

"Bye, Emily!" Edward and Thomas said in unison before getting back to work.

…

That night at Knapford Shed, Thomas was now the smallest engine of the North Western Railway. He was exhausted by the time he and Edward pulled up to the Shed. They saw Emily watching James failing to talk to Gordon while a grand green tender engine was fast asleep.

I guess he’s just like that with everyone, Thomas mused as Gordon shot a glare at James, quickly shutting up the black tender engine. Said engine pouted and reversed into his berth, calling it a night.

Knapford Shed was like any normal engine shed. It had a turntable next to it. There were doors to each berth. From what Thomas could see as he approached the turntable, it looked like the structure had sections. The roof seemed to split into three, and each one looked identical. Each section had three berths.

"How did ye like yer first day?" asked Edward as the little khaki tank engine was turned around.

"I enjoyed it!" he exclaimed, catching the attention of the other three tender engines. However, the unknown engine stayed asleep. "I can't wait to start pulling trains and exploring the island!"

A grumble was heard, and the two smallest engines looked to find a disgruntled Gordon.

The Edwardian-styled engine sighed. "Listen, Thomas. Yer dedication is great but ye need tae learn the basics first," said Edward. The guilt of grounding the newcomer's hopes down struck him. "Neither o' us want ye tae get intae trouble because ye dinnae ken ‘em."

"Oh, I'll get them down! It'll be easy!" claimed Thomas.

Edward chuckled but his worry for his mentee persisted. The pair talked for a while longer as the others slept. They giggled and whispered as quietly as they could before sleep finally took over.

What a great first day.

~

Notes:

Imagine rewriting a rewrite you did, haha-

I wasn't satisfied with the rewrite. It was the one story that kept pestering me so I finally got the chance to sit down and fix it.

I decided to split it up into multiple stories and heavily edited the parts I didn't like. Most of it was down to the dialogue and cutting out parts like Henry's story and the scene with Edward and Gordon.

Another thing that really irked me about my rewrite was Emily. She created more dead space so this is intended to fix that, as well as other continuity errors from James' arrival arc and connotations to IRL basis/facts, such as James' wooden brake blocks and the problems with the LBSCR E2s.

Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day! <3

[the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au]

Two Ends of the Shed

May 1925

The Adventure Begins (2015)

Word Count: 4,114

James realizes that by listening to outdated engines, he'll end up like them: broken and soon withdrawn.

~

.

.

.

The yard at Barrow-in-Furness was as busy as ever. Engines came or left with their goods trains. LYR 920 was one of them.

The congested yard surprised him and the rest of the locomotives under the newly formed London, Midland, and Scottish Railway. It was only the middle of January, and the Amalgamation had gone into effect at the beginning of that year, 1923. Despite that, he still hadn't been repainted and given his new number. His original brass plaques with the deep green background were still on the sides of his cab, and so were the words "Lancashire & Yorkshire" in bold, bright yellow with cyan shadows painted on his tender.

He was waiting for his goods train to be filled. When he arrived, it hadn’t been filled halfway with whatever goods he would be delivering, so he had to stick around. All he could do was stay put and look around, leading to eventual pouts of impatience, while his crew waited inside his cab.

And that's when she came in.

The small six-driver spotted the larger tender engine with four leading wheels and four driving wheels from a distance. She was painted Deep Indian red with Indian red and black lining, and her eyes were bronze.

LYR 920 furrowed his eyebrows as anger boiled within him. The engine looked uncannily similar to one from the Furness Railway, who was loaned to the Lancashire & Yorkshire Railway in 1914. Though he had never spoken to the engine, especially after the near collision, he heard enough about the engine. Said engine turned out to be hostile, differing from her initial reclusive personality.

Shortly after, however, he learned that her class was demoted to regular passenger service after she left. The rumors were that the class was currently working mixed-traffic work.

Serves her right! he thought then. Give her a struggle! Engines like her aren’t meant for hard work like mine!

So the minute the ex-Furness Railway engine stopped beside him, he tensed but stood his ground. His bulbous nose scrunched up. Steam seeped out of his nostrils and through his lips as his jaw clenched, prepared to bite if necessary.

The larger tender engine peered at him with a smile. "Hello!” She took notice of his frown. Her eyebrows shifted in concern. “Is this yer train?” The ex-Furness Railway engine gestured to the train she'd backed up to, thinking that was why he was upset.

“No. I've already got mine,” he replied nonchalantly, mimicking the Furness engine’s gesture. A way to insult her subtly. “How's life as a mixed-traffic engine?”

“It's quite nice actually,” she replied, though thrown off by the question and how the engine spoke as if he knew her. “It's dirty work but it's no’ bothersome… somewhit. Whit's yer name?”

“Don't worry about it."

"But thon's rude!" she insisted.

The goods engine scoffed. Ridiculous. “Oh, you would know, alright.”

Like a deer caught in headlights, the other engine froze. Her steam got hotter to the point that LYR 920 felt suffocated just standing next to her. “Excuse me?” she asked in a threatening. tone.

“Fess up! I know you’re Alice!” LYR 920 claimed, dismissing his crew, who smacked his backhead. Their protests, telling him to quit it, were fruitless. “Don’t act stupid and not recognize me!”

Fury flashed across her face, leaving as soon as it came. “Din’ ye dare speak o’ her like thon,” she hissed, her voice full of prey’s venom, before exclaiming. “We dinnae look yon same!” 

Oh dear.

“She’s dead!” she continued, the fire sparked within her eyes, roaring at the smaller engine. But before she began ranting, her fireman climbed out of the cab and onto her running board, rushing towards her smokebox. Her words caught the attention of nearby workers, who initially ignored the confrontation between the two engines.

He whispered soothing words, calming her down, and didn’t dare touch her smokebox. Just stepping on her running board was all his feet could tolerate, the heat from her boiler spreading to the rest of her metal parts.

Once her steam wasn’t suffocatingly hot, she asked, “Whit is yer name?”

Weird was the only word, and an understatement, the smaller engine could use to describe her behavior. Both he and his crew were bewildered, even more so with the sheepish, apologetic smile her fireman gave them before the latter rushed back to his engine's cab.

Yet, LYR 920 answered.

Might as well.

Not like I have anything better to do, he thought, glaring at the yardmen still filling up his goods train. Oh for heaven's-

And just like that, he stopped himself. He was getting ahead of himself like an impatient dog. "I don't have a name,” he finally replied.

Again, the larger engine's eyebrows shifted, confused. Her behavior was going to make LYR 920 dizzy if she didn't stop. It was difficult to follow and process. "Ye…” she began, registering his response, “...dinnae hae a name?"

"Nope," he replied. "Not as privileged as the passenger engines."

"Eh?” she squawked, catching the attention of those nearby. “Guids engines can hae names, too!" she argued. The English engine wondered if this behavior was normal within this class. "Whit’s yer number then?"

LYR 920 eyed the other engine suspiciously. "But that's improper from what I hear."

“I said, ‘Whit's yet number?’”

"Nine-Twenty."

"Awrite, Nine-Twenty. Mine is Fourty-Five."

"Nawsense!" she exclaimed with a quick huff. "It's no’ fair thon I huv a name but ye dinnae, sae we shall go by numbers.”

And just like that, a guard blew his whistle before LYR 920 could say anything. The smaller engine felt his driver tapping against his backhead. He bid FR 45 farewell and left for his destination.

.

.

.

Thundering through the Ballahoo Tunnels, the black mixed-traffic engine hauled a goods train to Knapford Harbor. He passed by dull green junctions, the brick stations on the Main Line, and the branch lines. Every time he’d pass by them, he noticed that all but two branch lines were closed. Time had done its thing to some of them, covering rusted iron tracks in mangled branches. Twigs intertwined and dragged everything around it with a tight but fragile grip.

Time had not been so kind.

The more time that passed, the more James wanted to go back home. Home to his friends. Home to his older sister. Home to a place that he knew the most and could traverse easily without having to learn any new malicious trick being played by fellow workers.

It’d been a week since the incident. James refused to sleep on either side of the sheds, claiming the center berth. He was surrounded by the worst. It was either engines talking behind his back or engines who saw themselves above him.

“Slow down, chap!” exclaimed Fred. “Don’t want to burst your safety valve now, do you?”

James perked up. “No, Mr. Quill!” he quickly replied, unaware of how much his frames swayed. Pulling on his brakes, he eased to a slower and safer speed. He heard the raven man hum with approval, despite the thunderous noise of his pistons. A smug grin crept on his face, full of pride.

But as he continued his journey, his rampant thoughts about the other engines raced about. One was violent and a liar, one was an enabler, one was prideful and rude, and another was petty and envious.

He just wanted to go home.

At least his crew came along with him. He was surprised they did.

For once, he was thankful for his old railway's decision.

…

The brick building with the green canopy sunroof that was Tidmouth Station came into view as James continued up the west coast, leaving the green pastures of the countryside behind. He was due to pull the passenger service on the Ffarquhar Branch Line.

As the black mogul pulled into the yard and was uncoupled from his train, he heard a loud steel groan nearby, followed by an engine stopping and someone walking on the ballast. It was coming from the sidings closest to the Big Station. Curious, and with a hum, he wandered over, only to find Edward, sitting idly, and his crew, on their knees and examining the cerulean engine’s chassis. This would've alarmed James and his crew if they hadn't noticed the lack of steam billowing from the smaller engine's chassis.

“Hey, Charlie! Everything alright there?” hollered Mr. Quill as he leaned over the side cutout of James’ cab. 

“Old boy’s broken down!” Charlie grumbled without looking up. His engine glanced at the other but stayed quiet, which the latter rolled his eyes to.

Unaware of the present tension between the two, Fred asked, “Want us to take him to the works?”

Bronze and heterochromatic eyes shrunk. Edward quickly looked away, breaking the one-sided eye contact. In protest, James jerked, only to get a flick against his cab.

Damn it!

“Please do!” thanked Charlie, patting Sidney on the back before getting up and climbing into Edward’s cab.

Within minutes, accompanied by grumbles and pouts, James was coupled up in front of Edward. He blew his whistle, startling the workmen in the yard, Edward, and said engine’s crew, before departing for Crovan’s Gate.

The trip was silent.

…

Much to his dismay, James had to fill in for Edward. Grumbles and pouts sputtered from his lips as he huffed about the yards, shunting trains left and right.

“How could an engine break down from work like this?” he grumbled as he aggressively bumped a truck into others. His whining was loud enough to catch the ear of his Express service co-worker.

“It was about time,” Gordon replied. His response startled James, who’d been unaware of his presence.

Once James composed himself, he asked, “About time?”

“Edward is old. The four-leader, four-driver may have been the newest, the best, the pinnacle standard… but those days are over. They have been for a very long time.”

“That doesn't mean he can't do basic shunting,” James argued, leaving out what he wanted to say. This engine was talking to him as if he didn't know. For goodness’ sake, he was friends with an entire class of 4-4-0s, or the 7 of the 8 that remained, that is, and his former co-workers of those 4-4-0s from the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway were still going.

Gordon scoffed. “Tender engines aren't meant to shunt, little James.” He ignored James’ little “Why you-!” “The yards are much too small for a tender engine to shunt about.” He rolled closer towards James, and the venom of his voice thickened as he continued. “His days are numbered. That’s just how it goes. He may have paved the way for engines like me,” he boasted, “but his importance will cease to exist. There is a reason why the Fat Director continues to bring on better engines. Engines that are meant to be and will be better.”

Though James wanted to be furious, he couldn't. He wouldn't straight up admit it to the egotistical express engine beside him but Gordon was right.

For one, as much as James didn't want to admit it, afraid of putting down his older friends, 4-4-0s were losing importance. James heard this happen time and time again in the other three railways, before and after his rebuilds. The Atlantics quickly came in, followed by the Pacifics, claiming the prestigious express passenger services of their predecessors. Six-drivers, like he once was, were taking the goods services as quickly as they were given to the 4-4-0s, simply because that was their job. 0-6-0s were made for that job, as opposed to the 4-4-0s, who were designed for express passenger services and any other more important trains.

His friends and former colleagues were lucky that their railway refused to follow those examples, opting for the small-engine policy of the old Midland Railway.

But how long would that last?

The simple fact of the matter was that newer whytes were better and more efficient. 4-4-0s were slowly becoming a second option and would eventually become the last.

And while his previous owners dismissed his experimental rebuilds as a waste of time and deemed him a failure, the Fat Director did not. He must've seen value in him. Why else would the young gentleman buy him? The praises he would receive for his “splendid performance” only proved it; the Fat Director's words, not his own.

He was wanted because he was better. He was bought because he was better.

With that in mind, James spent the rest of his day with no complaint and pure pride.

…

Days passed by the time Edward returned from the works. James saw him ease into the yard, the lack of steam still prevalent, and halt. Bronze eyes inspected the area until he perked up once they landed on James.

As quickly as he could, the Edwardian-styled engine puffed over to the Edwardian goods engine. The latter immediately veered somewhere else but the former persisted and followed.

“James, may I speak wit’ ye for a moment?” Edward asked as he caught up to the other. He could feel the anger fuming from his steam. It was suffocating and unwelcome, and Edward couldn't blame him.

“What?” James replied, annoyed. His natural brash tone seeped fury in it, startling Edward.

However, the smaller engine pressed on. “I want tae apologize for no’ tellin’ ye why ye were in the yards in the first place.”

James scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I still don’t get why you thought it was necessary to do that.”

“I didnae want tae hurt ye.”

“Ha! Well, guess what? You. Did,” he snapped.

The smaller engine stayed put. It was easier with his crew holding onto his brakes. “I-I ken! And I’m truly sorry.”

“Say sorry all you want but I’m not taking it!” huffed James, blasting steam directly at Edward.

The little engine yelped and jerked at the sudden heat spewed at him, knocking his crew off their feet. Once his crew lost their grip, Edward was able to back away. Just enough to get away from the heat irritating his metallic-like face.

As Edward’s eyes fluttered and his freckled face scrunched, James rushed off without another word. Besides his pistons pumping, the yardmen could hear James’ crew scold their engine, audibly upset. Their protests were in vain, however, as James left the yard without stopping.

Once his vision cleared up, the small cerulean engine frowned. His brow scrunched and his nose twitched as frustration bubbled within his boiler.

…

James thundered down the Main Line with his goods train, still fuming from what took place at Tidmouth. Fred kept an eye on his steam pressure, which went crazy for a bit, as George, a dirty blond Englishman, tried getting his engine’s attention. His attempts were fruitless as the mogul engine crossed the Vicarstown Bridge and dismissed the tapping against his backhead and cab. From there, the pair let their engine be.

The yardmen at Barrow-in-Furness were startled by James’ loud three-chime whistle, having gotten used to not hearing it for over a month, as it announced the engine’s arrival. The shrill had gotten the attention of all the engines there. All of them bore LMS in yellow on their tenders and were painted in either black or red. One engine in particular, who had been humming about as she waited for the yardmen to empty her train, perked up at the familiar sound. Slowly, she shifted her frame, dipping her cab end slightly, to get a look over the other awaiting trains.

Meanwhile, James was led to the same area she was in for the workmen to disembark the goods. He pulled up two tracks left of the engine, facing north like she was, and came to a sudden halt.

The sound caught the other engine’s attention, and she immediately peered over. Once she saw him, she gasped, “Fifty-Six?”

The black medium-sized tender engine froze before flipping his smokebox door open to face his right side. His eyes landed on the bronze-eyed engine, and excitement bubbled within him. She was a Class 21 from the Furness Railway, about the same size as he was, and painted LMS Crimson Lake red. Her old number, FR 45, was replaced with her LMS number years ago.

“Thirty-Eight!” exclaimed James.

“It’s sae guid tae see ye!” exclaimed LMS 10138. “How’s Sodor, huh? How is it?”

“Oh! It’s- uh- interesting!” he replied, lying through his clenched teeth with a fake grin. “No other railway quite like it!”

“I told ye! We both did!” she recalled cheekily before chuckling.

“You certainly did!” he strained again, joining her laughter.

Once their laughter died down, LMS 10138's expression changed suddenly. She looked at James with suspicion, making the modified Class 28 nervous. While she was sweet to him and their friends, she was truly a menace to not be messed with. It was then that James realized how foolish he was to think she wouldn’t notice his mood. She was the oldest survivor of her sisters, keeping a hawk’s eye on them as much as possible.

“It’s no’ goin’ sae well, ain’t it?” she asked, leaning towards him.

Despite feeling nervous, James admitted to it. “No, it's not.”

“Whit’s goin’ oan?” she asked softly, her tone now different from just before. “Dinnae tell me it’s those Pacific engines.”

“It’s not them,” replied James. “You and Fifty-five were wrong about them. If anything, they’re nicer than the other two.”

“Nicer?” repeated LMS 10138 before laughing in disbelief. “Ye’re jokin’, richt? Those Pacifics were yon worst of the North Westerns."

"Well, they probably manipulated you into thinking that, Thirty-Eight."

Her eyebrows furrowed, scrunching her face. "Or maybe thon's whit those Pacifics huv done tae ye," she retorted.

"I'm not stupid!"

"I didnae say ye were!" huffed the crimson-red engine. "I'm jist worrit for ye… er-" She peered at his tender. "North Western Six?"

"It's James," corrected the North Western.

"Pardon? Ye huv a name?" she inquired as excitement practically sparkled from her eyes. "Och, ye huv a name!" cheered LMS 10138.

Pride filled the black tender engine's boiler. "Oh, yes I do!" he boasted. "Now can I know yours?"

"Nah, thon would’nae be far tae the twins and Fifty-Five," she replied.

James pouted and thought. As the workmen continued emptying his trucks, an idea struck him. "What if we gave them names?"

"Whit?"

"We can give them names!" exclaimed James. "Who said that only people could give us names?"

LMS 10138 hummed. "Ye huv a point,” she replied after considering it. “A very guid ane! Let’s go tell ‘em.”

“Right now?”

“Aye!” she replied, nudging her frame to her left. “The twins and yer sister ur here, too!” With swift movement, LMS 10138 popped her smokebox door open, jerking her body to the side. The motion, unnecessary but natural, grabbed her crew’s attention. “Can we please see ‘em?” she asked her crew, who pulled themselves back up from the sudden jolt.

While most crew typically didn’t bother acknowledging their engines, the eldest of the remaining Larger Seagulls was lucky that hers were willing to. “I dinnae see why no’,” replied her driver as he peered over to James’ crew. “Ye up for it?”

“Might as well,” replied Fred. “We’ve still got a good while before we leave. Come on, chap!”

James cheerfully whistled, joined by LMS 10138's bright FWHEE-EEP!, sounding remarkably like her class’ nickname-sake. Both engines, once uncoupled, left the area in search of the other three. Much to their luck, the twins and James’ sister were waiting to depart with their goods trains. The twins were to head back up north while the other Class 28 was to head down south. The oldest of the twins caught sight of the Larger Seagull and “Class 29” heading their way. “‘Ey, look!” he exclaimed, catching his brother and the Class 28’s attention. “It’s Fifty-Six!”

“Fifty-Six?” repeated the Class 28 as she perked up and flipped her smokebox door open. “It is him!”

“Fifty-Five! Fourty-Six! Fourty-Seven!” piped up James as he came into audible range. “Were you about to leave?”

“We should in a bit,” replied the youngest twin. “We were supposit tae leave a while ago but somethin’s goin’ oan up aheid.”

“Somethin’ aboot a stallit train,” murmured the oldest twin, LMS 17646. He and the other twin, LMS 17647, were Class 652s of the Caledonian Railway, having been given LMS Black. They followed the same color scheme as Fifty-Five and James did. “How’s it goin’, big man?”

James playfully scoffed at the nickname. Ever since he’d come out of Horwich Works from his rebuilds, the twins drilled in the nickname as, in their own words, “Ye’re the biggest o’ us now, mate!” They weren’t wrong as he was a few centimeters taller than LMS 10138. “It’s… something,” James eventually replied.

His friends became concerned. “What happened?” asked Fifty-Five. “They’re not picking on you, are they?”

“No, it’s not that! It’s…” James struggled to form his sentences but he just couldn’t. “It’s complicated. I don't want to talk about it.”

His friends grimaced, growing concerned for James.

“But I come with news and an idea!” he exclaimed, nudging the Crimson red steam engine.

LMS 10138 announced, “He's got a name! And he thinks we should come up with names for ye three!”

“A name?” exclaimed the three six-drivers, eyes shining with excitement.

“James! Given to me by the director himself!” he puffed proudly.

“By the director?” squawked LMS 10138.

“Ye really are the big man!” exclaimed LMS 17647.

“I'm so happy for you, James!” squealed LMS 12555. “Such a lovely name!”

James beamed with pride. “Thank you!” he replied. “Now, what about names for you three?”

The five engines pondered and proposed names for a while. The disturbance that was preventing the Class 28 and the Class 652s from leaving still wasn’t cleared.

“Whit aboot ‘Katherine’?” suggested the red Larger Seagull.

“Do I look like a ‘Katherine’?” asked LMS 12555.

“Mmm, naw,” replied LMS 10138. “No’ ane bit.”

“‘Lily’?” proposed James.

“She's small but no’ thon light,” said the oldest twin.

“Hey!” exclaimed the black Class 28. “At least I didn't get something like ‘William’ and ‘Billiam’,” she mocked, sticking her tongue out while being careful not to curl it up.

“Aye, I wonder who'd come up wit’ such names,” the youngest twin wondered loudly, eyeing James.

“Now that's just mean,” huffed James.

“Those were pretty bad,” LMS 10138 noted.

“Fine! What about ‘Jasmine’?”

The others stayed quiet before looking at LMS 12555. Her brown eyes sparkled with adoration. “Jasmine…” she repeated. “I love it! Jasmine!”

“Then ‘Jasmine’ it is!” exclaimed the oldest twin.

“Now what aboot us?” inquired the other.

“Well, I'm out,” replied James. “What about you two?” he asked the newly named engine and the other whose name was still unknown.

“I was thinkin’ ‘Donald’ and ‘Callum’,” suggested LMS 10138.

“What about ‘Barclay’ and ‘Douglas’?” added Jasmine.

“Absolutely no’,” hummed LMS 17646, “but I like ‘Donald’.”

“And I like ‘Douglas’,” piped LMS 17467. “‘Donald and Douglas’...”

The other engines thought, mutters amongst them.

“We like it!” exclaimed the twins.

“So do we!” agreed the other three.

“Come on, Thirty-Eight!” exclaimed Jasmine. “What's yours?”

With a well-meant eye-roll, LMS 10138 replied, “Goldilocks. Ma name is Goldilocks.”

“Oh, like the little golden-haired girl from that story about the three bears?”

“Aye! Even ma nickname is an ‘homage’ tae the story.”

“Hold on,” interjected James. “How do you get named?”

“Well, it's nawthin’ special, really,” the Larger Seagull replied. “When I first steamit, a workman stood in front o’ me, pointit at me and said, ‘This lassie looks like a Goldilocks.’ The same thin’ happenit tae ma siblin’s-!”

“Hey, you three!” hollered a yardman, pointing his finger at the three 0-6-0 engines. “You better get going! The line’s all cleared now!”

“Yes, sir!” piped the three engines.

“Bye, James! See you soon!” exclaimed Jasmine, letting out a fierce whistle and going on her merry way. “Take care!”

“Bye, Jasmine!” replied James. “Bye, Donald and Douglas!”

“Huv a safe trip, James!” exclaimed Donald. Both twins blew their whistles, letting out a soprano harmonic shrill before setting off.

Once the trio departed, Goldilocks piped up. “Well, I best get goin’! I got a passenger train tae pull soon.”

“Of course!” piped James before giving a smug grin. “I got to pull a passenger train, too.”

The LMS-red engine gasped. “Passenger service? Look at ye go! Ye’re goin’ tae huv tae tell us more aboot thon next time!” she exclaimed with a chuckle. “Awrite, I must go noo. Bye, James!”

“See you around, Goldilocks!” exclaimed James as Goldilocks whistled and left. Once she was gone, he grimaced.

It was time to go back.

~

Lot of stuff happened with this one!

I took one look at Donald, Douglas, and James being under the same railway before James was sold off and went, "they are brothers."

and because why not, have some trivia!

Goldilocks is a lesbian. Jasmine is demiromantic she/they demi-girl. Donald and Douglas? haven't figured them out yet ("they sure do exist!")

Within this canon, all of the names of the Larger Seagulls are derived from fairytales + folklore from England and Scotland. Following Alice Edward ("Alice's Adventures in Wonderland") and Goldilocks ("Goldilocks and the Three Bears") are Tangle ("The Golden Key"), Mhara ("The Sea Maiden"), Fiorimonde ("The Necklace of Princess Fiorimonde"), Daylight ("Little Daylight"), Speur ("The Daughter of the Skies"), and Emmelina ("The Doll that Came Straight from Fairyland"). Yes, Speur and Emmelina are the youngest two built in 1900, aka Edward's baby twin sisters.

Goldilocks and Jasmine, as indirectly mentioned, were loaned to the NWR during the 1920 Locomotive Crisis. An LYR Class 7 (Atlantic) was also loaned to the NWR during that time period.

Goldilocks' face is a reference to the Orange Chinese Engine from BWBA, which is just a modified version of Edward's model with eyelashes and different textures. They look VERY identical from a distance, but Goldilocks has less of what Edward has. Less freckles, less eye wrinkles, less eyelashes, and her nose isn't as curved up as Edward's. I just thought it would be funny.

James and Jasmine (LMS 12555 and 12556 respectively) are the only LYR Class 28s with a Hughes Twin Plug superheater and a Belpaire firebox.

[the-cerene-rewritten-railway-au]

Rhys

🩷 Autumn 1899; December 1968

CW/TW: Pre-transition period (Edward), hostile work environment, gaslighting, mentioned character death, mentioned workplace violence

Buckled Tracks and Bumpy Trucks - Season 20 Episode 17 (edited)

Word Count: 1,823

Someone else was his first love interest.

A/N: "Rhys" is pronounced "reese." I didn't come up with that, btw. His crew did.

~

In the chilly autumn weather, passengers walked about Barrow-in-Furness Station. The leaves cluttering the ground crunched as folks stepped on them, awaiting the next passenger train.

A sharp whistle, reminiscent of the squawks of seagulls flying by coast line, went off in the distance, pulling in the passengers’ attention to the Indian-red tender engine approaching. She steamed into the station with a range of blue coaches with white trim, easing to a stop.

She was a Class 21, a class of engines dedicated to express passenger services. The sunlight reflected against the brass trim of her splashers and brass dome, giving it a gleaming shine. The oldest of the Class 21s greeted the awaiting passengers with a warm smile, as steam gently spewed from her chassis.

The weather was nice that day. There was no wind. Just the gentle breeze against her frames. It was like a soothing touch, which she appreciated.

Coming in the opposite direction, a small four-driver tender engine came by, hauling a goods train for someone else to take care of. Once he blew his whistle, the eldest Larger Seagull groaned. She would be foolish to not recognize it.

“Guid day, Coppernob,” she greeted through clenched teeth, trying to sound as nice as possible. Her crew reminding her to be nice to the elderly engine had become a daily routine, despite how arrogant and bossy he was. She didn’t need to turn the scolding into a daily thing.

Coppernob wasn't taking her forced greeting. “Don't treat me like a fool, young engine!” he hissed. “Such disrespect. You're better than that.”

“I wid if ye'd just go awa’,” she grumbled, “and didnae go around, gossipin’ aboot me.”

“It’s for the well-being of others, Alice,” he reminded her as her crew hushed whispers, telling her to knock it off. “We can't have your reckless behavior ruin the reputation and workflow of the Furness.”

Alice scoffed. “It’s always aboot thaim wit’ ye.”

“Bunny!” hissed her driver.

Before Coppernob reprimanded her, a Furness Railway 7 class steamed up to the platform adjacent to Alice’s. Unlike Coppernob, he had splashers, designed in a style similar to hers.

“Good day, you two,” he greeted. “Anything new I missed?”

“Nah! Nah!” Alice squawked out, immediately blushing out of embarrassment from the slip-up. She ignored the piercing glare from FR No. 3. “Nawthing new, Rhys.”

Rhys hummed, not convinced. A Furness engine would have to be a fool to not notice the conversation from kilometers away. And not to notice how furious the glare directed towards him was. However, he chose not to poke any further. Yet.

Alice’s guard blew his whistle, interrupting the thoughts going through the engines’ minds.

“Och!” she perked up. “Thon’s me. Guid-bye, Rhys!” With a quick whistle that resounded throughout the station, Alice departed from Barrow-in-Furness, heading north on her railway line, the Cumbrian Coast Line.

Once she was gone, Rhys sighed before glancing at Coppernob. “What is it you have against me?”

Coppernob didn't respond. Instead, he stormed off, leaving the other confused.

…

About a week later, Alice and Rhys met again but at Roose Station. The latter had finished telling a story that left Alice squawking.

There was just something about spending time with Rhys that comforted Alice, making her feel warm and appreciated. It was different to the way her sisters would comfort or check up on her every evening, especially if she’d had to defend one of them from one of the other Furness engines.

It was different, yet she couldn’t figure it out.

As she calmed down, a saddle tank engine pulled in, hauling a small freight train of steel rails, coming from the Barrow Haematite Steelworks.

“Diane!” exclaimed Rhys, noticing the black tank engine. “How’s the Steelworks going for you?”

Diane gave a quick smile to Alice, who smiled nervously, before replying. “Exhausting!” she exclaimed. “But it's good work!”

“Good to hear, dear! Good to hear!”

“You know, I’m surprised the old horse hasn't tried physically separating you both,” Diane noted. “He complains about you two whenever he runs out of things to whine about.”

Alice hummed, her freckled face crunching at the mention of Coppernob. “I din’ get why he diz’nae want me near Rhys. He diz’nae make sense aboot it.”

“Remember, dear,” Rhys assured. “He just… wants the best for you.”

The Larger Seagull frowned.“Well, he huz a funny way o’ showin’ it.”

Just then, her guard blew his whistle. With a heavy sigh, she bid farewell to the other two engines and promptly left.

Once she was gone, Diane shot a glare at Rhys. “Have you told her?”

The 7 class winced.

“Rhys!” she scolded.

“I know! I just-” He took a deep breath. “It’s too soon. We don't know when.”

“But it’ll be soon, Rhys!”

“I’ll tell her tomorrow, I promise!”

“You better!” she exclaimed before steaming off to Ravenglass, leaving her friend to go his way with the daunting thoughts in his head. His crew tried to soothe him, but it only made him feel more guilty.

…

“Alice! Stay away from that engine!”

Her safety valve was ready to burst. Earlier that morning, she fended off one of the Seagulls, her predecessors, up at Foxfield after seeing them pester one of her baby sisters. The utter annoyance those older engines could be.

And then they wonder why they could’nae get me and ma sisters tae ‘behave’ being the thought to go rampant in her mind after every confrontation.

“Bug’ aff! I'm no’ dealin’ wit’ ye today!” yelled Alice before storming off.

Coppernob chased her down. “Listen to me, young lass-!”

“Shut it!” she screamed. “Yer raps ma knittin’!”

“Watch your tongue-!”

“Or whit?” she taunted. “Whit'r ye goin’ tae dae? I'm no’ afraid o’ ye!”

“I want you to get away from that engine…” hissed Number 3, the words seething like painfully hot steam. “And you will do it as soon as you see him.”

“Ye cannae control me!” Alice argued. “Why is it thon when I’m finally doin’ better, it’s all wrong?”

“It wouldn't be wrong if you weren’t acting like that with him!”

Still furious, she looked at him confused. “Like whit? Whit’re ye implying?” she questioned.

Coppernob stared at her in horror, eyes going wide.

The look brought tension to Alice’s frame. “Copper-?”

“You can't even see it, can you?”

“See whit-?”

“You’re too far gone,” he mourned.

“Excuse me-?”

“Stay away from Rhys,” he hissed. “I don't want to find out that he’s broken the same way you are.” With that, he steamed away, returning to his work leaving a stunned Bunny behind.

“Broken…?”

…

That evening, Alice returned to her shed, only to find Rhys, resting in a siding. His crew were smoking cigarettes, unaware of the larger engine. Coppernob’s words had stung her to the core. She spaced out momentarily when Rhys called out for her.

“Alice! There you are,” he hollered, alerting his crew. They quickly climbed aboard into his cab. “Listen. I-”

“Am I broken?”

“...Pardon?”

“Am I broken, Rhys?” she asked again, looking Rhys straight into his eyes. “Coppernob said I’m broken.”

“What-?” He was dumbfounded as he approached the young Victorian engine. “No, of course not, Alice! Don't listen to Coppernob. His age is getting to him,” he reassured her.

“Okay…” was all she said before letting the silence overtake.

Her mood upset Rhys, making him rethink his choice. Should he? He didn't want to upset the young engine even further, but she needed to know.

It would be worse if she went about her life, not knowing what happened to her dear friend.

“Did… ye want tae say somethin’?” asked Alice after a while of silence. “Sorry if I-”

“I'm being withdrawn.”

Bronze pupils shrunk as her eyes went wide. “Ye're what-?”

“I'm being withdrawn, Alice. I don't know exactly when… but it might be soon,” he stated, carefully wording his sentences.

“Soon? How long have you known?”

“Alice-”

“How. Long?” she asked sternly. Her eyes burned in frustration and despair.

Rhys sighed with guilt. “A month.”

“And you didn't tell me?”

“I don't want to break you.”

“Break me?” she scoffed, offended as tears brewed up and her voice began to crack. “I'm not fragile, Rhys!”

“But you're still growing out of your old behavior!” he exasperated as both crews held onto the brakes of their respective engines. Alice’s crew held extra tight, making sure they didn’t let go as their engine tended to be hostile, especially out of emotion. “Alice, please promise me you won't go back to your old self.”

“Rhys-!”

“Alice, please,” he begged. “Please, do it for your sisters. For Diane. For me. The board isn't going to tolerate it any further, and you know that.”

At the mention of her little sisters, Alice agreed. “I promise, Rhys,” she sobbed. “I promise.”

…

“I hope ye're happy,” Alice sneered. It was the following morning and she’d come across Coppernob at Barrow-in-Furness once again.

“What?” scoffed Coppernob.

“Rhys is bein’ withdrawn.”

Shock went through the older engine's frames. “Whatever for?”

“I dinnae ken. Go ask him yerself,” she sneered.

“Alice!”

“Dae me a favor and boil yer smokebox,” she hissed before storming off, jerking the coaches by accident. The sentient ones yelped and her passengers were startled as her crew scolded her severely, and Coppernob called out for her.

She blocked out the sounds of the world around her as her four driving wheels pushed her north towards Foxfield.

.

.

.

Later that week, Rhys was withdrawn. He was able to bid farewell to Diane but not Alice. Diane was the one to break the news to Alice.

Alice broke her promise.

And Edward made a realization.

Rhys, I’m so-

“Edward?”

Said engine jerked, accidentally jostling his trucks.

A few days had passed since he left the Steamworks with his pistons fully repaired. He’d spent a week waiting for the parts to arrive.

“Did you even hear what I was saying?” James asked again, concerned as the extra Troublesome Trucks Edward hauled yelped and complained.

“Guidness, naw,” Edward replied, guilt building on his panic. His freckled cheeks burned. “Och, dear. I’m sae sorry-!”

“Are you okay?” James interrupted. “You spaced out for a bit.”

“Er, somewhit?”

“We can stop-”

“Naw, naw!” he exclaimed. “No need to! It's just- You reminded me of something.”

“Something you'll tell me?” James asked with a glimmer of curiosity in his heterochromatic eyes.

“N-No’ today…” He looked down. “Sorry.”

“Oh…”

“B-But-!” Edward stammered, “what about your adventures on the Mainland, hm?”

“You're gonna have to be more specific, Ed,” chuckled James.

The smaller engine pieced together what he could recall from the conversation that had taken place. “That incident with the twins! Up in Whitehaven?”

James winced playfully. “Oh, what a mess that one was-”

As James continued to ramble on, Edward's mind focused in. But not after he processed what he'd realized.

I wis in love wit’ Rhys, and I didnae even ken…

~

AND then his twin baby sisters were built the following year and things are all good again, right...?

...right? :)

Well damn, i guess I did end up writing a story before the 1910s ovo ANYWAYS, first EoSR story of 2024 and it ended up being a ship-verse story but its angst-

very normal muxse behaviour

i got to actually sit down and work on Edward's backstory a little more. It was EXTREMELY vague before so hopefully this starts adding up, especially for "You've Got Mail." (i'm a bit all over the place with my fics)

Being the oldest of a new generation is already a lot of pressure but how would it feel when its tradition for them to try to shape you in a way that is deemed appropriate in your railway. This usually works but Edward was different.

Notes:

Rhys had zero romantic interest in Edward.

Rhys' basis: 16 - FR Class A3 0-4-0 - built 1858 by W. Fairbairn & Co., Manchester - 1899 withdrawn

Introduced Diane (FR 17 "A5" class) and Old Coppernob (FR 3 "A2" class) sooner than I thought ovo Oh well.

The family relations on the Furness are a bit odd because the A2, A3, and A5 don't have a specific designer, just like the K2s. Just know that Edward isn't related to them. To my understanding, the Furness Railway 21s were designed by Sharp, Stewart & Co. Neither Pettigrew or Mason designed them. Same goes for said classes. Only the A5s were built by Sharp, Stewart & Co. but in the original Manchester location.

^ that being said, Diane and Edward are probably distant cousins for that reason, but Old Coppernob and Rhys aren't related to them. :p

Rhys translates to "ardor" in Welsh. Ardor means a strong intense feeling, which i think perfectly describes what engines feel when they're in love. :)

there was a lot of back and forth on previous love interests for these two. at one point, i considered Goldilocks to be James' first love interest but went against because i just thought it was weird and it would imply that Edward is a replacement for Goldilocks. I did not want that so i scrapped it.

Edward and Old Coppernob are basically the failed unintentional attempt of a healthy father-son relationship. They're both at fault for this. (yes, Edward has daddy issues. it just kinda happened but it also feels like it makes sense considering his role as the oldest and the issues he has)

guys i dont JUST write angst, i swear- :((((

evidence:

ps if i made you sad, read "He Squawks!" (one of my favorites /bias) it has pre-2x5 fluff + silliness (not the main focus but the silliness is :p the screenshot is unrelated :p)

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Story Master Post: 2020s

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Story Master Post: 2010s

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Story Master Post: 2000s

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Story Master Post: 1990s

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Story Master Post: 1980s

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Story Master Post: 1970s

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The Thing About Today... (14 February 1970)

Valentine’s Day is supposed to be one of the most joyous holidays of the year, even if the engines don’t fully understand it! James certainly does! Everything’s red, like him, and it’s nice to be appreciated for once. But when he comes across Edward, he’s shocked to learn that he isn’t enjoying it. Compared to last year, it’s a complete turnaround for the blue engine, so what changed?

The Fastest Red Engine on Sodor (March 1970)

NOTES ONLY. MAY CHANGE. proper post soon

An Engine of Many Colors (March 1970, time skip to April 1970)

After James is hauled to the Steamworks by Edward, the once bright red medium-sized tender engine begins to worry about his paintwork. But should that really be the biggest of his concerns?

Unlikely Visitor (March 1970)

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There Will Always Be Three (April 1970)

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