#Richard Hatt is forced to know things

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Hello! I love your blog and I was just wondering if you had any LGBT+ headcanons for Pride Month?

Happy Pride 🌈

Hmm, let me tackle human characters first.

Earl of Norramby is gay. Obviously.

Nancy is bi and demi.

Also... in classic "at first I was joking, but now I really like it" fashion… I HC the first Fat Controller as trans.

No one ever named their child Topham Hatt OK????

But a sufficiently ballsy dude might choose it if they were forming a new legal identity. And we know Hatt I was ballsy indeed. He stole everything that his neighbors didn't have nailed down and some things they did. He bricked up a gauntletted line even though it shut down his railway. He told the LMS to pound sand. He drained Tidmouth despite the fishermen wanting his head on a platter. You'd have to be a VERY strong personality to be such a successful, powerful transman in the early 1900s but you'd have to be a strong personality to be him anyway???? I'm serious. An ADHD transman with zero chill who literally made his own world. I'm tempted to write a fic of the Young Topham days, who knows. Those old British schoolgirls could be tough birds and I love reading their bits whenever they break through conventional history. I like to think the first Lady Hatt used to be a roommate of him at the girls' school they attended. Jane probably helped him the night he ran away to get a job at the GWR shops. And then maybe she didn't see him again until after he transitioned and became successful and he wooed her for a little while before the reveal that it was her old friend, Euphemia or whoever.

And Jane was soooo pissed off. (Luckily she was also in love.)

I also absolutely adore the idea of an FC5 (not sure Richard will ever get a chance to be FC4, at this rate) who is a woman. But butch. Everyone calls her "sir" but she is also she.

Okay, vehicles! This is where I've hesitated, unsure if I can make myself clear.

I don't particularly vibe with putting human gender and sexual labels on them.

This is not because I want to erase or minimize the diversity of human gender and sexuality.

It's because they are not human.

I mean, okay, I do have my old 'conversion AU,' so I do mentally play around with them as human every so often—to catch most readers up, my notion was that sometime within the 2020s-2040s a large portion of our cast is turned into humans as a fancy alternative to maintaining or retiring them as engines. But even in this AU the whole point is that they adjust to being human but are still rather 'alien', so, like many fans, I kinda take it that they are pansexual by default. There are some more specific things, though (incomplete because, again, I don't think of my human AU very often, so I still have a lot of question marks):

Thomas, I think, would be aromantic

Bertie -> also aro

Edward -> intersex (specifically XX male)

Henry -> gay gay homosexual gay

Gordon -> some sort of greyscale but also he has no clue about this and pursues (straight) dating because it's the 'normal' thing to do (good luck, dude)

James -> will figure out his human gender identity only if given another hundred years to experiment

Percy -> fine with identifying as male but also quite gnc

Toby -> straight and demisexual

Duck -> agender

Stepney -> nonbinary

Donald -> asexual spectrum (unlike Gordon he does know this about himself)

Emily -> lesbian lesbian homosexual lesbian

Philip -> multigender

Harold -> pan. i know i said pan is kind of the default for ex-vehicles but Harold merits a special mention for being, uhh. how shall we say. very sex-positive. a big gallant flirt.

But, again, I'm not too interested in forcing myself to figure out everyone's full identity profile in my human AU because I find the concept of 'gender' and 'sexuality' in them as trains to be far more interesting.

From a creative standpoint, it's actually a lot of fun to play them 'straight' but to use their experiences to explore the whole concept of gender, to push the idea of sexuality to its limits, and also to play around with metaphors for human identities...

Again I know it looks like LGBT erasure but, well. It feels very queer to me.

Here's some of how I see engine gender history. The allegory to real-life stuff is not intentional; it just sort of naturally sprung up when I played around:

At the period (RWS) canon begins, the normal, "natural" order of things is for an engine to be romantically bonded with their coaches.

This very much has a similar status to human heterosexual marriage. It appears to have the seal of tradition. It's acceptable. It's expected. In general (subject to the approval of your manager) it's allowed. (Yes, there is the obvious difference that the union is between one engine and several coaches but it was rare that the convention was for you to exclusively commit to one among the rest. Basically... harem culture I guess.)

If you were built to privilege—if you actually had some coaches you regularly handled, and you did feel this sort of special bond with them—then you might fail to have any occasion to start asking some otherwise very... obvious questions.

Such as:

What if you and your coaches despise each other?

What if you develop particular feelings about just one or two of 'your' coaches, which are increasingly impossible to hide? Like... do you have to?

What if you feel absolutely neutral about your coaches, but your firebox starts to burn with the heat of a thousand suns when you catch sight of that smart tank engine runabout at the end of the line?

What if your line is so big and busy that you don't have coaches that you pull 'regularly'?

What if your railway grows so big that you hardly see any coaches consistently?

What if you are strictly a goods engine and you've only ever exchanged five words in your life with any coach? Okay, so you're just... condemned through no choice of your own to solitude and abstinence, with no hope of happiness? Sounds like horseshit, doesn't it?...

... Say, what's this whisper you hear from the old wheels that fifty years ago the managers didn't approve of these kinds of relationships? That Back In the Day this sort of romantic attachment that is now considered 'the norm' was actually considered scandalous and beyond the pale? What?

'Fifty years' is just an average; different regions and railways progressed at different rates. But, in general, the earliest period of rail history saw an insistence that Useful Engines don't have any such attachments at all. For all its pomp and status, the model of 'passenger engine and coaches' was itself considered quite unnatural before it won acceptance.

But for a good period circa 1900 it was The Thing That Was Done. It became the norm by which rail romances are still rather judged. And it's telling: although humans tended to assign engines human gender (at first usually female; as the idea of a romantic bond between engine and carriages became normalized, humans started to see their engines as male, in a reflection of human marriage), probably the best analogue for vehicular gender remains type. Powered vehicles are one gender; unpowered stock is another. There are also gradiations within those two poles, of course.

And, when freed from human surveillance and control, vehicle sexuality tends to express its preferences in that way. So, to take engines: They very rarely give a rat's ass as to whether a potential mate is male, female, nonbinary, whatever. They recognize the distinctions among themselves but they are seldom relevant in matters of attraction ever, really. Instead, an engine might have an attraction to rolling stock or other engines (or of course both! but 'both' is definitely not a given). Then, within those categories, they are very likely to instinctively be attracted to a subcategory pool based on vehicle type.

I feel like I should give examples but I actually feel more comfortable using my OCs to illustrate:

Joscelyn — a female engine who is attracted to coaches exclusively (she is also absolutely terrible at forming any such connections so she is effectively maidenless)

Skimmer — a male engine who is attracted to both coaches and other engines. This does saddle him with the stereotype of being kind of slutty. (I mean he is kind of slutty but he is judged as such based on his 'sexuality' rather than his actual history.)

Poppet — at the risk of spoilers... she is attracted exclusively to trucks and lorries (which, in her era and culture, is definitely one of the more transgressive "sexualities" for an engine!)

Lizbet (she was formerly Lillibet but I didn't realise at the time how that nickname is not quite so rare and quirky for Brits as it is for us) — attracted to other engines exclusively (which—of course!—means m, f, and nb engines; no meaningful difference from an engine PoV). She is old enough that this 'inversion' caused her significant trouble with her humans back in her day. (She never exactly repented, albeit she did act circumspectly to preserve her friendships with the engines she lived with.)

Araby — male engine who has a hopeless thing for ships. When he worked a landlocked railway this didn't matter. When he was sent to Sodor for a while... oof! did our boy have an awakening...

Columbine (this is a real-life engine, of course) — the equivalent of human 'pansexuality'; she is potentially attracted to anything with wheels

Coppernob (same; sue me) — the loco equivalent of 'asexual'. He does know how to play the role of gallant beau to lovely coaches (which he had to learn late—it wasn't tolerated on the F.R. during his first couple of decades) but I reckon he just thought everyone played it as a role and will be endlessly baffled as engines over the years assert their rights to form bonds with each other because why do you all care about this so much? it was just a bit we had to do for a while for respectability... innit?

Because a vehicle's build is essentially their "gender," that means that I have long kind of viewed rebuilds as having strong metaphorical ties to gender reassignment!

Absolutely horrifying when imposed upon you against your will, of course.

But I imagine there are lots of cases where it wasn't. You can usually tell by whether or not the engine (or whatever) thrived after the rebuild. While I consider 'human AU' Henry to be cis, I read 'engine' Henry's history as very much a trans allegory: he was originally made wrong. I mean his builder canonically had no idea what he was doing! The form he got later at Crewe at last made him into himself. There are plenty of real-life cases that I like to see as similar in an RWS universe. The SECR 'Rivers' had endless problems and angst in their original form; being converted into tender engines felt right for them. Some of them had been consciously eating their heart out wanting such an impossible change for years. The 'Queen Mary' type brakevans I consider to be similar, or at least some of them: unhappy as locomotives, never really feeling right as an engine, perhaps even pestering the engineers for ages to make them into brakevans...

Of course, I don't consider all such transitions to be successful. Some engines, like poor No. 62768 of the LNER., found themselves much unhappier after their rebuild (he was just chosen at random when he was in the shop for repairs, it's not like he wanted it!) Then there are situations like the GWR autotanks who were given panelling to disguise their locomotive nature so they could pass as coaches. Do I read this as cross-dressing, or a sort of cosmetic transition? You bet I do! 😇

Can an engine be assigned a human gender but later determine that it was given to them in error? I mean, it's possible and it happens that engines choose a new human gender but it's quite rare, rarer by far than in humans. They are much more preoccupied with the engine dimensions of their identity. What is much more common is actually what I suppose we'd consider genderfluid or multigender: Various owners (or, if they are unnamed, drivers) over the course of their career might assign them different genders and in virtually all cases the engine (to forgive the pun) rolls with it, untroubled by being a 'he' one decade, a 'she' the next, and perhaps later again being a 'he' even while he answers to the name Lady Eleanor or whatever. To them human gender is very arbitrary and they tend to be perfectly content to just go with it. Often they wish to choose their own name, but even very early in their lives their builders or owners have already gendered them and they seldom care to change that because, again. That bit is all very arbitrary and meaningless to them. The humans seldom treat their engines differently no matter what gender is assigned and therefore the engine sees little distinction.

Soooo, yeah. As for some of our characters, well... this is also very unformed and embryonic still, but...

I do think a lot of our classic lads would have thought they had No Romantic Feelings Whatsoever. Some genuinely were! Neville and Donald spring to mind (Donald is also Duck’s queerplatonic partner, natch.) But for most of them, this was just because they didn't care for coaches, nor indeed other engines of their own type.

However, I reckon as the decades went on their complacency was shattered. (I call it complacency not because acephobia isn't a thing but because for engines in this universe 'asexual' would be considered a positive trait. Useful Engines Don't and all that. So there is some privilege there.) For instance, Thomas may find that he is attracted to non-rail vehicles? And Percy definitely has a thing for flying vehicles, poor chap... (Percy also has long been comfortably attracted to engines, coaches, and ships too. But whirlybirds, man. Kinda ruined/enhanced his life.) James and Gordon found that they weren't "above" such ridiculous things as "playing at" love; they were just diesel-sexual. Henry liked other engines for a long time, so he is open to steam and diesel; he did however get knocked through a loop of his own within this century when he encountered his first electric car and was absolutely useless for the two hours afterwards...

Anyway. God it's late and I hope this makes sense. In any case I don't see the engines as 'gay' or 'straight' or whatever but I do think they have as much gender and sexuality diversity as we humans do; in fact they probably have a good deal more! I also think that they have had a long struggle for most of these identities to be accepted. So they get it. And, most of all, engines would absolutely not understand homophobia at all. Human gender is such an arbitrary thing! Why anyone would get so hung up on policing something like that is baffling to them. They are keen to be of service to all humans, they really love seeing all humans happy, and apart from that they don't have any opinions on humans' peculiar romantic or sexual lives (they barely understand what human sex is!)

Now, how humans board trains or polish an engine or mend their fences or behave in any way even remotely connected to the running of their railway or yard... well, that they have opinions on. Strong opinions. That they will argue with you about. That matters. ;)

#chatter #ttte #ttte headcanon #ttte analysis #priorities on the island of sodor #the railway series #the fat controller #it's way too late i'm not tagging all those characters (: #happy pride 🌈 #long post #i would apologize for taking so long but actually you getting an answer in less than a month is probably a record for me #thank you for the ask <3

[joezworld]

Traintober Day 27

Today's Prompt: If I could be an engine too

-

Excuse me, but this is an reverse-humanization blog.

-

Not Every Story Ends At The Ending

2007 - January

Richard glowered at the stack of reports in front of him.

I’d fire the lot of them if I could. He thought to himself with no shortage of malice. It’s 2007, not 1910.

Following a long period of debate in the railway’s C-suite, his father had finally replaced Kerian Murphy, the retiring Head of Steam Operations. The position was one of pride on the Island, as the steam fleet was the main reason many of the railway’s employees had decided to work there.

Richard had expected some level of pushback from the employees, some of whom would most likely think that they’d been “passed over” for the coveted position, but this was ridiculous. It seemed like half the company had something to say about this, and none of it was positive.

I can’t even read most of this, it’s sickening. It was all… the sort of talk that he worked very hard to dissuade, and every single one of them should thank their lucky stars that the reports were anonymised.

Of course, this didn’t explain the other stack of reports on his desk…

When they’d started coming in, he’d initially thought that they were mistakes, reports and files intended for the mechanical services department at Crovan’s Gate, but after a few moments of reading, it became apparent that these were actually human resources complaints - even though the reports didn’t involve humans…

-

Tidmouth Station

Richard stepped out of the station’s office complex at tea time and walked into an argument in progress.

“Oh you horrid engine!” Bellowed Ralph, one of the senior drivers. He was already an unhealthy shade of red, and was gradually going to purple. “That could have hurt!” He was jumping around on one leg, having just had a blast of hot steam go across the other.

“Good.” Edward, of all engines, snapped, not even bothering to look at the man.

Ralph actually made a fist, and looked ready to try and throw a punch at the engine, when the fireman swooped out of the cab and muscled his co-worker back down the platform without a word. They disappeared into the cab in almost total silence.

“Wha-” Richard was quite frankly shocked, and had no idea how to process Edward being cross enough at someone to warrant that reaction.

“Don’t.” The blue engine snapped, the actual malice in his tone shocking Richard into silence. “This is an internal matter.”

“Internal matter? Edward, this is- what?” Before anything else could be said, the signal dropped and the train set off. Judging from the shouting that was already coming from the cab, Edward had no plans on making the journey easy on his crew.

“Edward! Internal to who?!” He eventually shouted at the train as it receded into the distance, but no answer came.

Fortunately, the station was not busy at the moment, and few, if any, people witnessed him shouting after a departing train like a crazy man.

Unfortunately, the station held more than just people… “Sir, I’d give up while you’re ahead.” Came a voice from behind him. “I’ve been here three days and they won’t say a thing.”

Spinning around, Richard found a Class 37 sitting on the next track over. “I’m sorry?”

“I said,” The engine replied, speaking as clearly as he could - which was very clear indeed; Unlike many of his class who had rough, industrial accents, this one could be reading the news on the BBC. “I’ve been here on hire since late on Sunday. Something has gotten into all of the engines here, but they won’t say what it is.”

“Not even to you?”

“Not a word. I’ve picked up some context, but it seems like the driving staff has made some deeply unkind remarks about one of their fellows. I’d assume that this hostility is coming from the driving staff’s refusal to apologize or admit that any wrong was done.”

A polite, articulate, and intelligent locomotive. What a marvel. Richard mentally calculated the over/under percentage of his Father trying to steal this one. The ‘under’ was unsurprisingly low. “Thank you, uh…”

“Fendt, sir.”

“Thank you Fendt.” Richard turned to go back into the office, to go through his papers and try and find some reason for all this, when Daisy rolled into a platform on the other side of the station.

The unbelievable noise her motor was making was a sign that something was dreadfully wrong, and as she stopped at the platform, Richard could see her face was taut with some negative emotion.

He moved towards the platform crossovers, but Fendt stopped him before he could do so. “Bad idea! Save yourself!” The diesel hissed.

“Wha-?” Richard was saying that a lot today. He watched as Daisy’s passengers left - in a hurry. The station was quiet for a moment, before her crew stormed out of her driver’s compartment and started berating her. He couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but it ended when Daisy blew a thick cloud of sooty exhaust in their faces!

They stormed away - to where Richard did not know, as all the crew facilities were on his side of the station - but as soon as they were out of sight, Daisy’s motor, which had been misfiring badly the whole time, started firing on all cylinders as if by magic.

“I told you,” Fendt said, looking a bit shocked at the level of rudeness the railcar was stooping to. “Something is wrong, and they won’t budge.”

-

Later…

Richard stormed out of the staff room, acutely aware that if he stayed a moment longer, he’d wring someone’s neck.

His attempt to discover what the driving crews had done had ended badly, with the assorted men claiming ignorance at increasing volume. Of course it wasn’t their fault, they’d extolled - it was those damn tea kettles! And the blasted buzz boxes! They were the true instigators!

Useless arses… Richard seethed as he stalked up and down the platform. He wanted to bring this to his father’s attention, but in this state he’d likely make the situation worse, not better, and was trying desperately to cool his head.

Of course, the sound of Duck and Gordon verbally sparring with their crews was not helping. Fendt was still sitting at one of the platforms, engine off, and Richard was forced to use the diesel’s bulk as a wall to block the sounds coming from the other platforms. Even Fendt, who was desperately curious about the whole affair, was trying very hard not to be noticed - there was a dangerous undercurrent to both engine’s words that hadn’t been there before.

Eventually, both engine’s crews stormed away, (Really, was anyone actually working today?) leaving the central part of the station empty.

Gordon and Duck began a muttered conversation as soon as the men left, only to quickly stop once Gordon started loudly complaining about the “fools who we must abide by!”

“Quiet!” Snapped Duck. “Do you want the whole station to hear you?”

“I don’t care if the whole station hears!” Gordon retorted. “Maybe something would actually be accomplished, instead of this pointless and uncivil war we all seem intent on prosecuting!”

“How can you say that?” Duck sounded legitimately incensed. “You heard what they’re saying about her!”

“Oh, I have - in fact I daresay that I’ve heard more said about her than you ever will!” Gordon was quick to respond. “But this animosity will solve nothing! We must work with them before someone does or says something that cannot be taken back!”

“Oh yes,” Duck said, sarcasm dripping from his every word. “Do remind me when that last worked? I seem to recall many of my brothers asking nicely not to be cut up and look at where that got them!”

A poignant silence lasted for a long minute. Richard, who had heard quite enough, thank you, had moved out from behind Fendt when the conversation started anew, and he retreated next to the diesel. Why, he couldn’t say - some macabre sense of curiosity, perhaps?

“That is not what we are dealing with.” Gordon’s voice was low and thunderous. “We are dealing with some petty, childish, and outright entitled men - boys, really - who cannot accept that they have not had everything handed to them on a silver platter! You all are acting as though she will be cut up! That’s ludicrous! They can’t even do that to her! She’s not made of metal!”

“Then why are you going along with this?”

“BECAUSE SHE IS ONE OF US!” Gordon thundered, all stealth forgotten. “And I will not for a moment have it appear as though I don’t support her implicitly!”

Duck said something else, but Richard didn’t hear it as he turned on his heel and walked back into his office. He was putting a few things together in his mind…

---

A few days later…

Richard was sitting in his office when she slipped into his office without knocking.

“You know, normally one waits to be allowed in.” He said as he looked up.

“Jus’ be lucky Ah didnae kick it down.” Siobhan said in a way which left Richard unsure if she was joking. “I’m no’ normally summoned like Ah’ve been naughty.”

“I ‘summon’ everyone. It’s proper procedure.”

“Even yer da?”

“Especially my father. Otherwise I’d have to chase him across the Island just to have him sign things.”

A laugh met this. “Ah feel that yer da’ and ye are two very different people.”

“You’re just catching on now?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“I noticed. How is the baby?”

“Monty? He's fit as can be.”

“Monty?”

“Montague.” Siobhan clarified, not missing the raise of Richard’s eyebrows. “Don’t look at me like that - it was me Grandad’s name.”

“Did you tell Duck that?”

She looked down and mumbled something.

“What was that?”

“Ah thought it was an old-fashioned name, but Deccie thought it was nice. Because he talks ta Duck all the time.”

Richard managed to suppress an uncharacteristic bark of laughter as he put together several things in his mind. “I suppose you’re very close to the engines then?”

“Is tha’ why ye called me up here?” Siobhan seemed confused by the abrupt turn in the conversation. “My friends?”

“In a manner of speaking…” Richard didn’t miss how she said “friends”, and shuffled through some of the more tame feedback forms. “When you got the steam operations job - congratulations, by the way - there were… a few complaints about it.”

“What?” She sat up straight,, genuinely upset by that. “Who?”

“I can’t tell you that.” You’d be arrested for murder before lunch if you knew. “But they were the standard fare - that you’re a woman, that you’re less experienced, that you have a child, that you were on maternity leave when you were promoted, and did I mention that you were a woman?”

“Bastards…” She muttered.

“I wholeheartedly agree, but that’s not all.”

“What, did they think Ah slept my way to the job?”

“No, of course not.” They had been much more explicit than that. “But, around that time, I started getting reports on my desk that didn’t seem to be addressed correctly.”

“What?”

“This is human relations, not engine relations.” He said simply, sliding a few of the other reports across to her.

Her eyebrows rose significantly as she read one report. “Eddie said that? Him?”

“Yes. And this wasn’t restricted to just the branches, or the steam engines.” He handed her another report. “Every engine on the Island seems to have gotten a bee in their bonnet at the same time. Coincidentally, this happened just a few days after your promotion was announced.”

“You don’ think Ah had anything ta do with-”

“Not in the sense that you’re thinking of, no.”

“But…”

“Siobhan, my father told me that he’d promoted you, but he didn’t tell me why. He only said that you “knew how to speak to engines”, whatever that means. That’s why I called you in here.” He looked at her, trying to correctly say what he was thinking. “I - This- you- I need to know, okay?”

He tried and failed to compose his thoughts. “How close are you to the engines? On a real level. I know about Donald and Douglas, but… the rest of them?”

“They’re ma friends.” Siobhan spoke like it was a universal truth on par with gravity. “Ah can’t even imagine what ma life would be without them. James helped me propose to Deccie. Del’ was my Maid o’ Honor. Ah love ‘em all ta bits.”

“I see.” And for the first time, Richard truly did.

-

Richard and Siobhan exited the offices right next to the front of the Limited. Fendt was being attached to the front, and they had to speak up over the rumble of his engine.

“Your maternity leave ends next week?”

“Aye.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you any longer.” And with that, Siobhan walked away towards platform 4, where Oliver was waiting with a train to Arlesburgh. She used the staff crossovers at track level instead of the passenger underpasses, and Richard did not fail to notice how Isobel, Dulcie, and Oliver’s faces lit up the moment they saw her.

“Oh,” Fendt said quietly.

“What?” Richard asked.

“I understand now.”

“Understand what?”

“The upset. If someone had spoken about a member of my family in the manner that these drivers have been, well, I don’t think I would have been so restrained as the engines on this Island.” The Class 37 said it as though it were obvious.

“Family?”

“Oh yes. Can’t you tell?”

“Tell what?”

Fendt eyed the man. “I suppose you wouldn’t be able to understand: She has steel in her, same as any engine.”

“How can you know that?”

“I know it in the same way that you know how to breathe.” Fendt said it with such passive but absolute surety that Richard was momentarily struck dumb. “It has been a privilege talking to you, but I must depart, and as my hire term is nearing its end, it is unlikely I will be coming back. Good day.”

With that, the 37 roared out of the station with his train. Richard blinked owlishly as he watched the train disappear into the distance.

He planned to wander back to his office and digest this, but his feet had other ideas, and he found himself crossing the lines to the cargo platforms, where Gordon was simmering on the front of the very delayed Fast Mail.

“Hello, sir.” He said, his jovial attitude giving off an unusual air of forced sincerity.

Richard looked down the train - Gordon’s crew were glaring daggers at the newspaper vans, which explained a great deal. “Gordon, may I ask of you a favour?”

“Of course!”

“Call it off.”

“What?” Innocent was another thing Gordon couldn’t pull off very well.

“This ‘uncivil war’. Call it off.”

“Sir, you don’t know the whole story-”

“Siobhan is going to keep that position. If I have to fire every other driver on this railway and hire new ones, then so be it.”

Gordon’s expression melted into one of relieved joy. “Sir, thank you-”

“Don’t.” Richard wasn’t done. “What you lot did was incredibly irresponsible, totally inappropriate, and as foolish as it was loyal. Next time you have an issue like that, talk to me - solving disputes like this is quite literally my job. Someone could have gotten hurt, and I doubt I need to tell you how upset my father would be if he had been the one to discover this!”

Unspoken was his uncertainty of who would attract his father’s ire - the engines, or the drivers.

“Yes sir, of course sir.” At least Gordon had the sense to look shame-faced. Richard had no doubt that Duck and Edward would not feel even the slightest twinge of guilt.

“Good.” Richard turned to leave, but then stopped. “And one more thing, if you have time.”

“The vans have derailed.” Gordon said bluntly. “Inept repairs to their bogies, no doubt. I have quite a while.”

Richard looked back. One of the newspaper vans was sitting at a remarkably strange angle. “I see. I imagine we’ll be seeing my father soon enough, so I will be quick.”

He maintained eye contact with Gordon, and explained what Fendt had said.

“Sir…” Gordon began uncomfortably. “I don’t think I could explain it even if I had all day.”

“Why don’t you try. Think of it as ‘punishment’ for how unpleasant you’ve all been this week.”

“All right,” Gordon said, trying to place his words carefully. “But I must warn you - the best way to tell this is in a story - one that I’ve pieced together from several different sources over the years.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Well, it all started about twenty years ago…”

1988

“They did what?” The engines looked at each other in confusion. Duck was not usually part of the branch line’s rumour mill, so anything coming from him had to be true.

“Adopted her!” Duck said, sounding no more sure than they were. “I don’t know how, but they did.”

“Adopted?” James asked. “As in, they’re now her parents?”

“Yes!”

“Can they do that?”

“I suppose so, otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to.”

The shed was quiet as the engines reflected on this.

“What does that make her? To us?” Henry broke the silence. “She has to be something.”

After a moment, he added. “And not ‘someone’s father’s brother’s nephew’s cousin’s former whatever’. That joke is growing tiresome.”

The engines pondered on this. They’d never encountered this situation before.

Delta was the first to speak up. “I think this makes her… one of us. Doesn’t it?”

“But she isn’t an engine.” Gordon countered.

“I don’t think that matters - she’s their daughter now, just like how all of us are… whatever it is we are.” She said slowly. “So by that logic, she’s with us.”

“What do you mean ‘whatever it is we are’?” Gordon asked. “What is that supposed to imply?”

“At the risk of sounding sappy,” Delta said, surveying the shed and the engines within it. “But I don’t think any of us are merely friends anymore.”

James, Henry, and Bear all looked slightly bashful at that, while Gordon quietly harrumphed at the diesel’s words.

“I suppose that’s more correct than I would normally admit…” He said quietly.

-

A few weeks later - Tidmouth Station

“Ah, and finally for the new girl,” Fred the dispatcher said. “For her first real outing on the main line, she gets the 1B03.”

A set of knowing cheers rose from the staff room’s occupants as the new girl - Siobhan - perked up. She’d been firing on the Little Western for a few years now, and probably thought she was pretty damned good if her performance reviews were any indication.

But this was the main line, not the branches, and so a little hazing was to be had at her expense. Gordon didn’t suffer fools or new hires gladly, and everyone in this room had at least one bad experience from working on his footplate. It was time for the new girl to be taken down a peg or three.

Clive, one of Gordon’s usual drivers, almost felt bad for her, but in the past few weeks she’d become almost swanky, waltzing about the station smiling like she’d just won the lottery, and was becoming entirely too chummy with the Little Western engines for anyone’s liking.

To use an old phrase: It wasn’t wrong, but you just didn’t do it. At least, not with the big engines - those nutters on the branch lines can do whatever they want, but if she wants to work out here… having her deal with Gordon will sort that right quick.

The two made their way out to Platform 2, where Gordon was already waiting with the train. The yard crew had already built his fire and oiled him up, so all that they needed to do was drive him away. Siobhan, youthfully perky even at Quarter To Seven In The Morning, totally missed the sympathetic glances the yard crew sent her way as they formally “handed over” Gordon and his train to Clive.

Once he’d dropped his bag in the cab, Clive walked himself to the front - it was good practice to speak with Gordon, so everything would be coordinated between the crew and engine for the upcoming-

“-and then, Henry says, ‘what if the Great Western Way is the wrong way?’ an’ I don’ think Duck or Ollie said a word for over an ‘our! They looked like they got hit wit’ a sleeper!”

“It cannot be that simple to make them stop!”

“Aye it was!”

The new girl was talking to Gordon like they were old friends. Clive hadn’t even noticed her go up to the front of the train, and yet here she was. “Ahem.” He cleared his throat.

“Oh,” Gordon said, his expression immediately cooling once he saw Clive. “I suppose we must be off soon.”

“Aye.” Siobhan agreed, scampering off to the cab before Clive could get a word out. “I’ll get the fire goin’ jus’ the way ye like it Gordon!” She said as she departed.

Gordon sent one last smile her way - “I trust that you will!” - before he again acknowledged Clive. “I trust that you have everything in order?”

Clive wanted to ask about that interaction, but held his tongue. “Yeah. There’s a speed restriction around Cronk station but otherwise we should be fine…”

-

Later - Barrow Station

The run went fine, and Clive couldn’t believe it.

It wasn’t that the new girl hadn’t fouled up - she had, at multiple points - but it was what happened afterwards that was confusing: Gordon had reacted calmly. When she made a mistake, he told her what she’d done, and how to fix it.

The engine hadn’t shouted, or yelled, or told her that she was being stupid once. As they’d pulled into Crovan’s Gate, Clive had actually hopped out of the cab and gave the big engine a once-over, just to make sure he was feeling all right.

Gordon had growled at him when he did that, so he was clearly feeling fine.

Arriving at Barrow, Clive did the reverse of what he did at the start of the run, and handed Gordon and the coaches over to the station staff. Without looking back, he made his way to the station’s break room. He made it most of the way through a cup of coffee before he realized that the new girl wasn’t with him.

He made it most of the way back to the platforms before he found her again. The station crew had moved Gordon to one of the bay platforms - he enjoyed sunning himself there between runs - and there the new girl was, sitting on his bufferbeam with a packet of crisps and a bottle of Irn Bru and laughing at some joke he’d made.

-

“That bad, eh?” Geoff, the Barrow station master, looked up as Clive stormed into the staff office. The Tidmouth crews had an unfortunate tendency to harass their new recruits by giving them difficult or otherwise “uncomfortable” jobs in the first few weeks. They never seemed to catch on that if the new hires were having a bad day, their day would be just as bad - the engines, Gordon especially, were firm believers in the phrase “the more, the miserable”.

Clive growled something unintelligible and disappeared into the loo without another word. Rolling his eyes at his co-worker’s ineptitude, Geoff went back to his paperwork.

A few minutes later, the door to the staff office opened up once again. The new girl - Siobhan, if he remembered her name correctly - walked in, a purposeful look on her face. “Hiya - have ye got any of the good polish? Not the shite that smells like old socks.”

“For your boots?” Geoff said slowly.

“Nae - engine polish!”

“Supply closet off the waiting room.”

“Thanks!” She disappeared out of the staff room as quickly as she’d appeared. Geoff watched through the open door as she ransacked the closet for first the polish, then what appeared to be every clean rag she could find, before making haste towards platform three.

That was enough to push the man’s eyebrows into his hairline, and he set his paperwork aside for a moment. Making his way into the waiting room and the doors to platform three, he found Siobhan animatedly polishing Gordon’s bufferbeam while making idle talk.

“Down to the left a little - there you go.” Gordon said encouragingly(!) “I dare say that if you stick with this for a few weeks, you’ll be downright competent!”

“How encouraging.” Siobhan replied cheekily.

“Oh don’t be like that - I’ve known James for almost my entire life and I’ve never seen him be competent at anything. You’re already well ahead of him!”

They continued talking as Geoff shut the door to the platform and went back to his paperwork. Seems like it went very well. I wonder what Clive was on about?

“I’m not certain I follow you there, at the end.” Richard said, trying to quell his instinctive and totally impotent anger at long-retired men and their hazing practices.

“Sir,” Gordon said quietly. “I was built at a time when engines were seen and not heard. Even then, in the nineteen eighties, I would never consider being ‘close’ with any of my crews beyond basic pleasantries.”

“So what made Siobhan so special?”

“She’s…” Gordon seemed at a genuine loss for words. “She’s not… a person, to us. A person is, for lack of better term, not someone that we associate with. Not like that.”

“You speak with me just fine.”

Gordon fixed him with a profound stare. “Times have changed, and even if they haven’t, you are going to be our Controller some day. The difference between you and an ordinary person is so vast as to be almost insurmountable.”

Richard wanted to diffuse the suddenly-heavy atmosphere with a joke about him not being a person, but refrained - Gordon was being deathly serious. “And Siobhan is like that?”

“No sir, not at all. She’s… take that diesel - Fendt. He is not one of us - not of this railway - but we still welcomed him into our shed, because he is an engine. In that sense, he is one of us - in the truest possible way. What he said, when he spoke of steel, is like that phrase some people say: “We are all human”, except not…”

He trailed off, trying to find the correct way to phrase it.

“Except Fendt wasn’t talking about humans, was he?” Richard finished. The air between them felt as heavy as it ever had. It felt like he was learning things that were not to be known by man.

“No, he was not.” Gordon paused again. “If… I were blind, and I met Siobhan for the first time… I would not imagine a person.”

“You’d imagine an engine.”

“Yes. Yes I would.”

"But you said she wasn't, before."

"Yes, but that was before..." Gordon trailed off, unable to explain it. "She wasn't, but now she is."

“Does she know?”

“No.” The atmosphere shifted again, and the air between the two became a bit lighter. “What would I tell her? I can barely tell you, and you seem to have a better grasp of this than anyone I have ever met, human or engine.” The big engine looked wistful for a moment. “I would love to tell her - to let her know what she means, but I cannot even find the words. I know that she knows how highly we all regard her, and that will have to be enough.”

That seemed to be the end of things, and just a few minutes later the breakdown gang arrived to try and free the derailed van. The mail had been re-loaded into the other vans, and Gordon steamed away to the mainland shortly thereafter, leaving Richard deep in thought on the platform.

--------

For many years, Richard thought about that day. Unlike some of the other revelations he’d been forced to have while working for the railway, this one didn’t force him to reach for a bottle - at least, not to the point of total drunkenness.

A measure of Port, or a glass of Sherry seemed to give him the greatest clarity on the topic, and he didn’t like the conclusion he came to:

It didn’t mean anything.

It was just one of the many facets of life: Siobhan was an engine - or at least the engines themselves thought so. It made no sense, but so few things did any more.

But it still didn’t settle well with Richard. The world might work that way, but Sodor didn’t. Pride cometh before a fall, love bloomed even where it was thought impossible, and every story had an ending. The fact that he didn’t know what the ending of this story was, or his role in it, sat like a weight in his stomach, coming back into full bloom every now and again:

When Tornado and Osprey had arrived on Sodor for the first time, they’d both greeted Siobhan with the same respect as Richard and his father. Richard had thought that maybe he was wrong, and it was all nothing, but when Siobhan had mentioned that she’d been born in Glasgow, Osprey had said: “Ah, you’re from St. Rollox!” as though that had explained something.

When Daphne (and that was another mystery right there) had ‘arrived’ on Sodor, she greeted Siobhan like an old friend.

When his father spent the last few days before his retirement arranging the purchase of a new locomotive, Richard had somewhat dreaded the arrival, and their inevitable immediate acceptance of Siobhan. When the ‘new’ engine turned out to be Fendt, his worries were not eased at all, as the diesel outright refused to acknowledge her as anything but an engine.

Still, the story hadn’t reached an end. There were more engines, more coaches, and more trucks, but still Siobhan was there - never changing, just getting older.

Eventually, one night in the late 2040’s, Richard came to a new conclusion.

Never changing, just getting older.

Just like an engine.

But what happens when she gets too old?

The glass of port was set down on the desk with a thud. Within a few minutes, the ice inside of it had caused a ring of condensation to form on the documents below it - the acceptance documents for a new diesel locomotive that was arriving in the morning.

The glass of port remained there, forgotten, until Richard’s housekeeper cleaned it up in the morning.

Richard slept fitfully, his mind swirling with incomprehensible possibilities of a future that he wasn’t sure he wanted to consider. A song stuck in his head - an old tune, from one of the various television shows that had been set on the Island, back when television had been a dominant market force. His children had watched it when they were young.

“If only I could be an engine too…”

He wasn’t sure how… but it seemed like this story was about to come to an end.

-

Tidmouth Sheds - 2049

The building had been rebuilt and enlarged several times since its original construction - it was bigger, and roomier, with space for many more engines than the railway possessed. It wasn’t a ‘roundhouse’ any more, instead its shape was more of a rectangle, with a rotating transfer table accessing many tracks.

The building was usually abuzz with voices and noises at all hours of the day - the nights were usually quieter.

At this moment, as the four engines were driven into the shed, a pindrop would have sounded like a gunshot.

“Hey, everyone.” Siobhan said in an impossibly small voice, letting out steam in embarrassment as she became aware that every eye in the building was on her. “Ah suppose Ah’m not retired anymore, eh?”

Gordon, seemingly the only engine whose jaw wasn’t on their bufferbeam, took a moment to look her over. “Well, I must admit that this is unexpected, but not at all unwelcome.” A broad toothy grin spread across his face, threatening to split his smokebox in half. “Not that you could ever be unwelcome here, Siobhan. Welcome home.”

This statement settled over the building, convincing many of the other engines that, no, their eyes were not deceiving them, and then the shed exploded into noise.

#ttte #sodor #sodor headcanon #sodor shenanigans #ttte sodor #fic #traintober 2021 #traintober #the railway series #oc: siobhan #richard hatt is forced to know things #adventures in human resources #major character undeath #excuse me but this is a reverse humanization blog #long #ttte Gordon #oc: Fendt #ttte duck #ttte edward #richard hatt #listen if this is your first time reading my stuff I'm sorry but you've gotta go back and read some other stuff just for this to make sense

[joezworld]

Flesh is Temporary, Steel is Eternal. (5/5)

Immortality

September, 2049

“Do either of ye ever thin’ aboot immor-immort- feck it - livin’ forever?” Siobhan slurred. 

Donald and Douglas looked at each other. When their daughter started getting existential, it was probably time to cut her off. 

Unfortunately, the case of lager she’d dragged into the sheds didn’t seem to be anywhere near empty, and they didn’t have hands to take it away from her. 

“I canno’ say ah have.” Douglas said after a moment. “What brings this on?”

“Ye mean aside from the booze? It’s cause I realized that Ah’m eighty years old and no’ getting any younger.” She said with remarkable clarity considering the number of cans she’d already drank. 

“’Vona, that happens to everyone.” Douglas said, trying to steer the conversation towards a topic that wouldn’t make him wish that he could drink. 

“Ah!” She said as she crushed an empty can in her hand. “Ye say that, but Ah relaized somethin’ - ye lot are gonna live forever! Cause I just saw Del’ down at the junction and she was telling me all about how they put this new motor in ‘er and she feels better than she has in years!”

Donald and Douglas considered this as their daughter rummaged for another can. “An’ before ye say that yer only gonna live as long as yer worth somethin to someone, this is fecking Sodor. Ye lot are worth more than yer weight in gold jus’ because of those damn toys! If somethin’ goes wrong wit ye, Rich Hatt is gonna chuck more money at the problem until yer better than new!”

She continued, plucking at the pull-tab of the can. “An when he kicks it, Kieran’ll take over, an then someone else after him, an so on an so on until Boom!” 

She cracked the can open for emphasis. “One day ye wake up an’ it’s the year three-thousand, and ye are livin’ forever.”

Donald and Douglas stared at each other. They hadn’t thought about it like that. “What’s this really about, lass?” Donald said slowly. He knew that this wasn’t actually about immortality. 

“That ye lot are gonna live forever.”

The engine quietly raised an eyebrow. 

“What?” 

“There’s more ta this, or did ye get so blackout drunk ye forget what today is?” It was exactly two years to the day that Declan had died of cancer. “Talk ta me ‘Vona. What’s really wrong here?”

Siobhan tried to put on a brave face, but it fell apart in the face of her father’s genuine caring. “Ah’m scared Da! Ye two are the only ones Ah got left! Deccie’s dead, so is mum and Lachlan an’ even Chuck! The kids are in Canada, so what if one day I just keel over? After a while, is anything gonna be left o’ me?”

She sniffled, and Donald not for the first time wished he could hug his daughter. “I knoo that ye two are gonna be there forever, but, Ah don’t remember everyone from school and shite! Are you gon’ remember me in a thousand years?”

“YES.” Both engine said at once, causing her to smile through her tears. 

“Thanks Da.”

Douglas smiled at her warmly. “Ah think I speak fer both of us when I say that we will never forget ye, ‘Von.”

She giggled and took another sip of lager, bringing the sheds into a comfortable silence for a few more minutes. 

Siobhan broke the silence again as a thought occurred to her. “Ye kno’, for all that ah’m afraid o’ dyin’ - Ah actually have no idea what is supposed ta happen ta me once it does, cause Mum was Catholic, Lachlan an’ Chuck were Protestants, and Dec thought he’d get reincarnated or whatever the term fer it is in Hindi.”

“Did ‘e?” Douglas had never really discussed spirituality with his son-in-law. Maybe he should have. 

“Oh yeah!” Siobhan paused for a second. “If that bastard comes back and I just die and go to heaven ah am gonna be very upset.” 

Her drunken and upset look was so funny that Donald and Douglas burst out laughing.

-

Many hours later - in fact it was the next morning

Siobhan had eventually passed out in between the tracks next to Douglas, and he woke that morning with no small amount of concern to see that an engine was now sitting on that road. 

His concern quickly turned to bewilderment as he looked closer at the engine itself. It looked familiar, but in a very distant way - he definitely hadn’t seen one in many a year. It looked like an old, old, old Caledonian Railway design, but where would that have come from? And how would it have gotten all the way to the Arlesburgh end of the Little Western without him or Donnie knowing?

Whatever confusion he had quickly faded as he realized that he cared far more about whether this engine was parked on top of his daughter then he did about its pedigree. 

“Aye - Aye you!” He whispered to the engine, trying to wake it without waking Donald. 

“Fuck off Da’ I’m sleeping.” The engine muttered in his daughter’s voice. 

“Wha- ‘Vona?”

“Da’! I’m fuckin-” The engine opened its eyes, which were the same shade of brown as his daughter’s. “Much higher offa tha ground than ah was before?”

It was at this point that Donald woke up, looked around his brother, saw the engine that had his daughter’s face, put two and two together, discovered that it made five, and started making a lot of noise.

--

Richard Hatt arrived several hours later. The (actually rather trim) Fat Controller had been up bright and early to accept a new engine at Barrow, and was eager to see how well he would get on with Donald and Douglas. Despite the engine being a diesel, Oliver and Duck had already treated him kindly, which gave him high hopes for the Scottish twins. 

He was therefore unprepared to see both steam engines yelling at a third locomotive while all three built up steam. 

The third locomotive was one that his railway definitely did not own, and he had no idea why it was painted into his railway’s colours, but it seemed to be having a bad day, as it squirmed back and forth uncomfortably while the firelighters tried to build up a good fire. 

Donald and Douglas seemed to be offering their own brand of encouragement to the engine, as if it had never been fired before. He broke up the argument by clearing his throat until everyone noticed him, and waiting for them to shut up so he could speak. 

Honestly, these engines were older than him and they were like children sometimes. 

“Thank you.” He motioned to the engine behind him. “This is Declan. He is both new to the railway as well as being newly built. I hope that you will treat him kindly.” 

He turned to the mystery steam engine, in the process missing Donald and Douglas’ eyes widening hugely. “And who might you be?”

“At this moment, ah have no idea - hey! That is no’ how that poker bar works and ye know it!”

“I see.” Richard really didn’t. “I will let you four get acquainted.” 

In a move that was cheap but effective, he ambled out sight behind the shed like he was going to the yard office, but actually stopped just behind the building and listened: 

Douglas was the first to speak. “Lad, do ye jus’ look familiar, or are we going to deal with more of this horseshite today?”

“I want to point out that I have no idea why this happened, but yes, yes we are.” The new diesel said in what Richard could only imagine was a wry tone.  

“You Bastard!” The mystery engine bellowed. “Were ye really gonna let me think ye were dead for all this time?!”

“I thought that I was. This was not even remotely a possibility I had ever even considered.” 

“Okay. So we are dealing with more of this horseshite today...” Douglas sighed as the new engine continued her tirade. 

“-that coffin was expensive you cunt! An’ how’re we gonna explain this to the kids? ‘Hiya! just wanted ta let ye know that Da’s alive again and we both turned into trains like yer grandads?’” 

“I think they’d be very understanding if you said that...” The argument trailed off as Richard dazedly walked away. Those voices were very familiar now that he thought about it, and he had an inkling of an idea of what was going on, and it was honestly an inkling too much. He eventually made it over to the Arlesdale Railway station platform, where he was supposed to have a meeting with the Small Railway’s board. 

As he arrived, one of the railway’s engines set off with a train of empty hoppers. He couldn’t see which one it was exactly, but the mustard-yellow paint meant it was easy to identify the engine as Amanda Farrier, one of the new-builds from the 20′s. 

Wait. 

Amanda Farrier?

No...

Could it?

Richard hurried towards the Small Railway’s offices. If he was quick enough, he could maybe make it without seeing anything else that would bring on an existential crisis!

#ttte #ttte donald #ttte douglas #Oc: Siobhan #Oc: Declan #sodor #sodor shenangians #headcanon #fic #multi-part #Richard Hatt is forced to know things #flesh is temporary steel is eternal #excuse me but this is a reverse-humanization blog

[joezworld]

Money (2/2)

Guess whose fault this one is.

Two Diesels, Ltd

January 28, 2021

Tidmouth Station

Richard Hatt was not a morning person, so he felt about as tired as he looked as he waited for Thomas to arrive.

The worst part about this pandemic is that I can’t drink my coffee through my mask. He thought to himself. Well, aside from everything else.

As he waited, Edward steamed in on the next track over.

“Good morning sir.” He said tiredly.

“Good morning Edward!” Richard said with forced enthusiasm. He really wasn’t a morning person, but Edward was, so seeing him so tired was unusual. “Have you been sleeping all right?”

“No.” Edward said bluntly.

“Oh? Is something wrong?”

That was all Edward needed to hear. “If I have to hear about Gamestop, Wall Street Bets, or whatever the fuck ‘doggy-coin’ is ever again, it will be too soon.”

The assistant Fat Controller recoiled at the actual malice in Edward’s tone. “I wasn’t aware that you followed financial news.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why-”

“If this conversation is about a certain video game retailer I will lose my temper.” Thomas interrupted as he puffed into the station.

Richard was surprised. Thomas was usually up before the dawn, so to see him with bags under his eyes at seven thirty was shocking.

“You too?” Edward yawned.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “All bloody night! It was wsb this and gme that and capital gains whatever!” He said with a mocking tone. “They’re incessant!”

“Who?” Richard was deeply confused.

“Them!” Thomas cried.

“Who?” Richard was not in any mood to play the pronoun game.

“Mavis! And Daisy! Who did you think I was talking about?” Thomas groaned. “It’s been nothing but stocks stocks stocks with them since last February, but yesterday took the cake! It’s like 2008 all over again!”

“What?” Richard had that sinking feeling again.

Thomas glared at him incredulously. “You’re inspecting the stations on the branch? You’ll see when you get to Ffarquhar.”

-

It took Richard all of the morning and some of the afternoon to make his way to the top station, stopping at each intermediate station to inspect their adherence to local social distancing guidelines as he went. By the time he reached the workmen’s station at the Anopha Quarry, it was a quarter past two in the afternoon.

Fortunately, the workmen’s station was the smallest on the line - a piece of raised asphalt next to the tracks - and his inspection was quick. The quarry company had spray-painted lines at two metre intervals onto the ‘platform’, and that was all that was necessary.  

They’ve done a better job than Dryaw, He thought to himself - the quiet little branch line station hadn’t bothered with anything beyond closing the waiting rooms, and it had taken longer than it should have to get them in order.

Toby’s train back to Ffarquhar wouldn’t leave for another fifteen minutes, so Richard decided to investigate Thomas’ comments from earlier, and tracked down Mavis in the yard.

“Good morning sir!” She called to him as she shunted together a line of trucks. “What brings you up to my neck of the woods?”

“Oh, just some inspection duties.” He said, unsure of how to proceed. “Although, while I’m here, I did have a question for you.”

“Go ahead!”

“What do you know about Gamestop?”

Mavis rolled her eyes. “You’re a bit late if you want to get in now - it’s almost three hundred in the pre-market!”

“What?” Richard noticed that he seemed to be saying that word more and more as the years went on.

“Oh yes!” Mavis said, her eyes threatening to roll out of her face. “Somehow, those children on the internet are actually short squeezing this! I can’t believe it!”

“They are?” Richard had only mildly paid attention to the news - he had a financial manager take care of his portfolio, but he knew that he was not invested in retailers at all.

“Oh yes!” Mavis said as she slowly rolled into her shed, Richard following in confusion. Doesn’t she have a driver?

He opened his mouth to ask her, but stopped when he spied a fierce-looking wasp painted on the side of her bonnet. No good came from asking his engines about anything even remotely related to that, so he wasn’t even going to try with the Quarry Company’s diesel. 

“Look at this! It’s - oh my god!” It had just gone half past, the markets in America had opened, and the price for Gamestop was skyrocketing.

“Is that a Bloomberg Terminal?!” Richard was in shock.

Mavis said something, but the ringing in his ears meant he only heard sounds.

Finally, a different ringing sound pulled him back to reality. Patting his pockets, he pulled out his phone, which wasn’t ringing?

“Excuse me,” Mavis said over the ringing. She blinked and the noise stopped. “Yeah, I’m seeing it now. I wish that we hadn’t- YOU WHAT?!”

Richard jumped as the diesel’s phone call suddenly grew heated. “I told you to sell that yesterday! We made our money! I-yes I can see-You aren’t supposed to go behind my back like this! We’ve talked about this Dais- yes I know you were right about Enron and Bitcoin, but this is different!”

Mavis paused. “Fine. Sell it at four hundred, see how that works for you!”

“I suppose I’ll leave you to that...” Richard said as he backed away. He needed some air.

Mavis paused long enough to quickly say goodbye before going back to her call.

Richard stumbled back to the platform and sat down in Toby’s brakevan until it was time to leave.

-

Arriving back in Ffarquhar, he made a quick excursion to the sheds to check on something that he suspected.

Daisy was gone - probably on the midday commuter service, but there, at the back of her berth, glinting in the lights of the shed, was a second Bloomberg terminal, the words “REMOTE ACCESS ENABLED” flashing on the screen every few seconds. 

Stephen made his way back to the platform and boarded Clarabel without another word. He wanted to go back to his nice quiet office in Tidmouth and think about more relaxing things, like COVID-19!

#ttte #ttte thomas #sodor #sodor shenangians #ttte mavis #ttte daisy #Richard Hatt is forced to know things #money #finances #wsb #gamestop #I wrote this three days after gamestop went to 400 and it was weird #multi-part #fic

[joezworld]

📁

Would any of the engines enjoy doctor who or get a paint scheme like the Tardis?

There are exactly 3 4 engines on the Island who are the right age demographic to fall into the “Whovian” fandom. It has never occurred to them to do a “fantasy” paint scheme like that and they’re going to feel real stupid if they ever find out. 

That being said... this also dropped an idea into my head. (Don’t worry, it’s probably not canon)

October 2020 - Tidmouth Diesel Sheds

“I’m bored.” Delta announced with some finality. 

It was now day three million of the Coronavirus lockdown, and travel volumes had not yet risen to the point where all of the engines were in daily service again. 

“So you’ve said.” Grumbled Bear, who was wondering if it was possible to sleep until 2021. 

Wendell and Daphne looked at each other. They’d run out of things to say months ago, and were trying to see how long they could go without speaking, just to keep themselves occupied. 

“Well we have to do somethin- what on Earth?”

Delta stopped as a startlingly familiar sound filled the air of the shed, followed by the sudden appearance of an even more familiar-looking object. 

A deafening silence filled the shed once the noise ceased and the phone box fully appeared. The engines were totally motionless, save Daphne, who was shaking on her frames in a most concerning way. 

Eventually the doors to the box opened, and a tall man in a coat stepped out. His attention was engrossed in a beeping and blinking device in his hand. “Well, this seems to be the source of the temporal disturbance, but I don’t...”

He trailed off as he looked up and saw the engines. “”Well that’s unusual - I didn’t recall having to account for dimensional - oh.” 

He turned the device over. “Well, maybe I should have realized that before now!” He said to himself. 

He looked back up at the engines. “Apologies for the interruption, if you would be so kind as to not mention this to anyone else?”

He turned to re-enter the phone box. 

Bear finally found his voice. “Doctor, wait.”

The Doctor turned around in surprise. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“Not as such.” Bear looked at the other diesels before continuing. “I don’t suppose you’re in any need of some traveling companions, would you?”

----------------

Later that day

Richard Hatt stared at the empty shed in befuddlement. “Well, if they aren’t here, then where are they?”

“Dunno,” Said Ted the Yardmaster. “But this was pinned to the back wall.”

He handed Richard a note. 

“Went to Doctor’s appointment at 22:40 will be back later love Bear Delta Daphne and Wendell.” The assistant Fat Controller murmured to himself. “What the hell does that mean?”

#ask response #sodor #sodor shenangians #ttte #Richard Hatt is forced to know things #ttte bear #ttte wendell #oc: delta #oc: daphne #the doctor #doctor who

[joezworld]

Memories

A continuation of this

January 29, 2020

“Well, despite my extensive protestations, I cannot find any reason whatsoever to keep you here.” Anton, the head of the Crovan’s Gate diesel shop, said as he shut his toolbox with a petulant clang.

55 010 and Wendell looked at each other with no small amount of relief. Since the events of Christmas, the works had been beside themselves in trying to find a cause of 010′s existence as well as fixing the damage to Wendell’s chassis from when he fell off the jack stands on Christmas day.

A naturally superstitious man, Anton had refused to clear 010 for traffic until he went over her with a fine-toothed comb. This was a process that had taken over a month, and had insulted Wendell more than it had 010, as the Class 47 had believed that Anton was looking for a way to keep 010 out of traffic (he was), while the Deltic - who hadn’t been properly serviced since the late 1970′s - found the whole process very therapeutic.

All that being said, the pair were anxious to get out of the sheds and onto the main line once again - Wendell wanted to stretch his wheels properly, while 010 was deeply excited to see the bright future of the year 2020.

Anton left, shutting off the lights behind him. The two engines would have kept talking, but they’d honestly exhausted their conversational reserves after being together for over a month, so instead they fell asleep, dreaming of the world outside the sheds...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

December 26, 1981

Doncaster Station, Doncaster, South Yorkshire, England

55 010 sleepily opened one eye to the sounds of an argument. Some men were clustered around the Class 47 that was on the siding. They sounded like they were trying to figure out what to do with her.

One group was saying that she should be shoved onto the out of use lines, while the others were saying that doing that would take too long. The 47 seemed to be stuck in the middle, unsure of which side to take. At one point, he opened his mouth to agree with the shunting plan, before he stopped. A flurry of emotions passed across his face in an instant, before he shut his mouth, glared at the men he’d been about to agree with, and put his wheel down.

“I’m not going to miss my path and spend all day in passing loops just to put her away - look at all the switches you’d have to hand throw! It’d take ages!”

With that the other men now held a majority, so without much more discussion the 47 was coupled up to her, and the train set off for parts unknown.

-

“Where are we going?” She’d sleepily asked the 47 - who’d introduced himself as number 556 - as they rattled across the Pennines.  

“Dunno,” He’d said quietly - they were coupled face-to-face, and she felt vaguely bad that he was driving backwards on her behalf. “Some coach depot I’ve never heard of - Titfield or Tidmouse or something like that.”

-

December 27, 1981

Tidmouth Station, Tidmouth, Tidmouth and South Haltraughshire, Sodor

47 556 and 55 010 eventually made it across the bridge and onto the Island very early on the morning of the 27th. It was a quiet little Island railway out here in the west country, and they met few trains on their way by.

A class 86 shouted hello from an electrified branch.

A old Hymek, somehow still in service, honked amiably as he passed with a goods train.

Even an old blue steam engine clattered by on a rail tour. This one looked at them funny, but the expected malice wasn’t there, merely confusion at the unusual double-header.

Eventually arriving at the big station at the end of the line, the two engines were met by a older gentleman in a top hat.

He introduced himself as the Controller for the region, and asked what they were doing here.

As 556 explained why he was also carrying a broken-down Deltic on his train, 010′s attention wandered to the rest of the station.

It was a beautiful design, like King's Cross, or Euston before they ruined it, but the roof of the trainshed was simply covered in soot - it was almost like they hadn’t cleaned it since before the end of steam.

Then there was a whistle from outside the platforms.

Both diesels goggled as a tender engine, painted an almost gaudy shade of bright blue with red lining, rolled into the station with a train of teak coaches.

At almost the same time, two more whistles were heard, and a train of GWR autocoaches complete with a Pannier Tank in the middle rattled in alongside a green saddle tank engine of indeterminate origin towing a pair of ancient compartment coaches.

“What is that?” 010 asked, shocked to see clean and well-maintained steam this far into the 1980s.

“Those are Gordon, Duck, and Percy.” Said the controller kindly.

“Are they all on rail tours?” Asked 556, causing the controller to laugh.

“No! They’re my engines! They work every day because they’re still useful.”

Neither diesel said anything. 556 was shocked that BR was allowing this to happen, but 010 suddenly felt a surge of hope. If they were still running steam here, maybe she could convince 556 to leave her here on his way home...

Something must have shown in her face - or maybe even 556′s, because the next thing the controller said was: “If I may, my railroad is currently experiencing a locomotive shortage. We have to keep relying on the other railway for temporary engines, but they aren’t the most reliable. Would either of you happen to know where I could find some strong, hardworking locomotives?”

-

They stabled 556 and 010 in the sheds with the steam engines over the New Year’s holiday. It was an almost out-of-body experience for 010, who was used to the cold and unfriendly atmosphere of Finsbury Park TMD, and had no idea how to deal with engines who, when told to treat her nicely, immediately made sure to include her in their singing of  Auld Lang Syne.

A few weeks later, both engines had been successfully outshopped at the massive works complex in the west of the island. 556 had required little repairs, but had rolled out with a new coat of paint and a new name, Wendell, chosen after a friendly dog that hung around the works.

It took longer for 010. She had many, many worn out parts that required removal and repair, and her engines needed a full overhaul. During this time period, some of the female welding staff had spoken to her about needing to choose a name before one was chosen for her - apparently the Hymek she’d seen was named Bear, and she didn’t want that did she?

After a few days with books on baby names, a set of brass nameplates were bolted to her sides - they read “DAPHNE” in big letters.

While she was there, the workmen asked her what she wanted to be painted. When her request for a new coat of Rail Blue was met with groans, the men explained that they were bored of normal paint schemes and would paint anything she wanted.

-

Two weeks later she rolled out of the works feeling like a new engine. Her motors fired on all cylinders, her grease and oil was fresh, and her new paint sparkled in the sun. She’d always liked how Deltic - The Deltic, DP1 - had looked, and the men had grinned at each other when she told them about how the irritable prototype had spent most of his free time whining about not having stripes that went the whole way down his body.

Daphne found out why when she rolled into Tidmouth Shed that night. There was another express diesel on this island - a big Class 46 - and the similarities were striking. Both had similar designs, and had non-standard paint - the 46 was red, she was blue - with gold stripes down their sides. The 46 was named Delta - a very similar sounding name, and when she opened her eyes and took in Daphne and her nameplates, it took her all of two seconds to begin smiling broadly.

“You look like you could be my big sister!” She said.

Daphne, expecting some sort of hostility, wasn’t sure how to respond. “Well, all of my sisters are dead, so it would be nice to have one again.”

She began to backpedal when the 46 stopped smiling, but the look she gave was thoughtful instead of hurt. “Come to think of it, all of mine are probably dead too. Shall we make our own family then?”

And so it was.

-

A few weeks later, Daphne and Wendell finally met all but one of the other diesels on the region - a Class 28 named BoCo, Bear the Hymek, and Daisy, a deeply customized Class 101. According to Daisy, there was also a Class 01 named Mavis who worked on a private quarry at the end of her branch line.

“You know,” Daisy said after Delta finished introducing everyone. “Aside from having one of each power rating, I think all of us but Wendell would have been scrapped by now if we were on the mainland. I think we should do something to celebrate the fact that we aren’t dead.”

The other diesels agreed - word had already spread about Delta and Daphne’s nontraditional sisterhood - and they agreed to form a club: the Non-Standard Survivors Society.

“But, I’m not non-standard?” Wendell asked as they dispersed. “Am I?”

“No, but you are really cute,” Delta joked. “So we’ll give you a pass.”

Daisy chuckled as she headed for the platform. “I’ll have to remember that when I tell Mavis about this club she’s in now.”

Daphne was confused. “Cute? What do you mean cute?”

Wendell was similarly puzzled.

Bear and Delta looked at each other meaningfully. “You two have so much to learn...” The type 3 said as he backed into the station.

That didn’t make Daphne or Wendell feel any better!

-

1983  

“You know,” Said Delta one morning in the newly-refurbished diesel shed. “We should have nicknames for the society.”

“My name is Bear,” Said Bear. “yours is a Greek letter. How much more nickname-y can we get?”

“The rest of us should get nicknames then. And I feel like I could get a great nickname, like Tiger Stripes!”

Daphne giggled as Bear growled under his breath. “And why, pray tell, are you Tiger Stripes?”

“Because I’m fierce like a tiger! And I have stripes like a tiger does! It also matches the animal theme we’re going with.” Either Delta could think at a mile a minute, or she had been considering these nicknames for a lot longer than she let on.

“A tiger does not have stripes like you do.”

“How do you know?”

“My name is Bear. I know about animals. I have to.”

“I figured it was so that we could be ‘Lions, Tigers, and Bears, oh my!’” Quipped Daphne. “I guess that makes me Lion Stripes then.”

Delta’s sputtering and spluttering made it very clear that she hadn’t thought of that, and Bear and Daphne roared with laughter.

-

Later that year

The Thin Clergyman’s son made another trip to Sodor to research for his next books.

Daphne, as an express engine, had been rather removed from the strife among the rank-and-file engines caused by the Thin Clergyman’s books, and had no idea why Delta wanted to hide from him.

After a “short” explanation that took almost an hour, Daphne was now furious.

While she did help Delta by hiding her deep inside an old carriage shed, she did not stay there herself; She was an engine of action, and would deal with the problem directly.

Two days later, the Clergyman’s Son approached her to ask her some questions.

“If my sister shows up in one of your books you won’t survive to write another.” She said darkly to the author, who retreated immediately! 

The Clergyman’s Son’s next book focused about Diesels and James. Much to everyone’s amusement, Delta was nowhere to be found in it, despite her being being the biggest reason why James was more accepting of diesels.

Unsurprisingly, Daphne did not appear either, and everyone wondered if the story of the rude diesel who crashed through a wall was based on her in some way. Delta, on the other wheel, stayed uncharacteristically silent!

Wendell was most offended that they hadn’t even bothered to include his name in the book, and refused to speak to the Clergyman’s Son again!

-

1985

Bear and Wendell had both gotten very scruffy looking after several years without a repaint, and went into the works with the intent of coming out looking the same as they had before.

They had reckoned without Delta and Daphne, who had very kindly asked the paint shop workers to be imaginative on their friends.

Bear had rolled out first, looking furious about the deception, but rather pleased with his paint. The men had been inspired by some American locomotives, and he rolled out of the shop in a dark shade of green with metallic gold stripes down his sides.  Any lingering discontent he had felt lasted until Henry saw him for the first time and dragged him away behind a shed without a word. Daphne tried to ask what was going on, but Delta, laughing too hard to even speak, had pulled her away to the station.

Wendell came out a few days later. Whatever the men had originally tried hadn’t been to his liking, he explained, and he’d asked them to try a different design from the same book that they’d pulled Bear’s paint scheme from. When he came into the sheds painted a glossy black with grey and white stripes, Daphne felt both of her crankshafts do a flip-flop.

Delta took one look at the slack jawed expression on her adopted sister’s face and sighed deeply. How had Jamie seen this coming before she did?

It took all of a week for Bear and Wendell to have nicknames foisted on them by the express sisters - Ursus and Cobra stripes, respectively. Delta explained that she liked the predatory animal theme that went with Lion and Tiger, while Daphne innocently pointed out that it had absolutely nothing to do with how much it annoyed Bear.

The nicknames did eventually stick though, in no small part because Henry had taken one look at how irritated Bear was and started calling him Ursus!

It took a month after that for Tiger Stripes to take pity on her sister and the piteous faces she made when she thought Wendell wasn’t looking, pulled a Flying Scotsman, and told her and Cobra Stripes exactly what those feelings meant. She was very unsurprised when Wendell revealed that he was also growing attracted to Daphne.

Henry and James both joked that one day, Bear or Delta would put one of them through a wall, but three weeks later, Daphne managed to put herself and Wendell into the parking lot behind Barrow Sheds.

-

1990

After realizing that Mavis and Daisy both technically had stripes painted on them (making them Wasp and Cougar stripes), the other diesels began to seriously peer pressure BoCo into getting repainted with stripes so they could complete the set.

He’d held out for many years, but after Daphne took a special train to the clay pits, there was suddenly pressure from within the Brendam Branch as well, and he folded like a house of cards in less than a week.

When he came back from the works, he was now green, gold, and white, but also red, if you counted the angry blush on his face.

“I asked them for Southern Railway Green with a gold stripe.” He seethed. “But clearly there was a misunderstanding.”

The howling from his compatriots was earthshakingly unsympathetic, but nobody could deny that he looked striking, and he was quickly dubbed Jaguar Stripes, even though - as he and Bear were quick to note - he did not look like a Jaguar at all.

-

1995

James asked Delta to marry him. The other engines were overjoyed, even if they BoCo and Daisy needed some catching up on how exactly that was possible.

Daisy groaned. “Mavis and I are going to have to have a talk, aren’t we?”

The other diesels - which by this point included James and Henry in an honorary capacity - hadn’t quite processed that when BoCo announced that if he was being honest, he and Edward were “so emotionally codependent that we’ve probably been married for twenty years without realizing it.”

Henry couldn’t take it any more and screeched with laughter at the conversational disparities - he’d just left the steam sheds, where the engines were still unaware that London had multiple termini, and were therefore having a rousing argument as to whether the impending fall of British Rail meant that London’s terminus station would magically return to being King’s Cross or Paddington instead of the current Euston.

-

1996

James and Delta were wed in a quiet ceremony behind the diesel shed - Siobhan, her fiancé Declan, and all the members of the “Non Standard Society” - including Mavis, who traveled down specially for the event - were present, with Daphne and Henry acting as bridesmaid and best man.

By design, the engines had arrived in pairs, with only BoCo “going stag”, as he hadn’t yet told Edward how he felt. The officiant - a kind looking man from the Arlesburgh judiciary - had taken one look at the rest of them and asked if he should be preparing for any other weddings in the near future. Daphne and Wendell were the only ones to say yes instinctively. (Much to each other’s surprise!) When Daphne looked over at Bear and Henry, they said with no small amount of irritation that it wasn’t legal yet for them to be wed. Similar grumblings then erupted from Mavis and Daisy, which briefly made the quiet ceremony very loud, as none of the other engines had been aware that either diesel was dating!

-

2000

Dull yellow smoke billowed out of Percy’s funnel as the men did a pressure test. Before Daphne or Wendell could do anything, they were enveloped by the choking cloud. 

Daphne shut her eyes to avoid getting any of the strange metallic soot in her eyes, and when she opened them again, the works looked... different somehow. 

A few of the new inspection pits were gone, while the diesel shop building had one less door than it should. 

Daphne opened her mouth to ask Wendell what was going on, and then stopped dead in her tracks when a workman ran right through her. 

Looking down at herself, she appeared to be fully transparent, floating above the rails like a ghost of Deltics past. 

“Who are you?!” Wendell squeaked. 

Daphne looked at him for a moment. His paint was a different colour than it had been a minute ago - Rail Blue instead of Black and Gray - and he seemed like he didn’t remember her at all. 

“Cobra,” She said, not even thinking that this was not the time for nicknames. “It’s me, Lion. You know me.”

“I know exactly who you are.” He said frantically. “You’re the ghost of the engine I killed! It’s not Christmas! Begone with you!”

“What?!” Daphne was horrified. “Wendell, what on Earth are you talking about!? Nobody’s dead! How can you say that?!”

“Don’t you overreact here Lion!” Wendell snapped. “I should be the one screaming! Ignoring whatever it is you are, there are dinosaurs eating the ballast! That water tower has a face!”

Daphne suddenly understood that there was something in the yellow smoke that was making both of them see things that weren’t there. With that in mind, she spent most of the next few hours keeping Wendell calm until the hallucinations stopped, and he turned back into the black and gray diesel she’d fallen in love with.  

A few weeks later, and Daphne asked Wendell about what he saw in the yellow smoke. 

“I saw a bunch of brightly coloured horses singing about friendship. Why?”

“Just curious...” Daphne said as she realized that maybe her hallucinations had been much stronger than she thought!

-

Later That Same Year

A new high speed trainset arrived on Sodor. Their names were Pip and Emma.

They had been on the island once before in the early 80′s, but somehow none of the diesels had met them in anything other than passing.

After three nights on Sodor, Delta declared that she liked them and was “keeping them”, giving them no choice in the matter on the subject of express engine sisterhood. Daphne explained that Delta was less of an engine and more of a force of nature, to which Emma responded that she and Pip were ‘the Dragon Sisters’ and could take care of themselves.

Both Dragons realized that they had even less of a choice when Daphne's face lit up like a Christmas tree upon hearing that!

Learning that the duo already had animal-themed nicknames for themselves made it much easier for Lion and Tiger Stripes to press-gang their new sisters into the “Non-Standard Survivors Society”, and even easier to get them painted into the old Intercity “Swallow” paint scheme.

Even for express locomotives, the speed at which the two went from Pip and Emma to Dragon Stripes was remarkable.

-

Even later that same year

Donald screamed all the way to the Little Western, unable to shake the image of a unified force of Red Eyed, Soul Stealing, Mind Controlling, Memory Altering, Diesel Electric Monsters!

-

2001

Pip and Emma taught the other diesels how to breathe fire.

Being the sort of sisters that they were, Daphne, Emma, Pip, and Delta soon began hosting competitions to see who could shoot fire the furthest. This did not help Oliver’s mental state at all.

-

2004

The United Kingdom allowed same-sex couples to enter into a “civil union” on the 14th of March. The engines knew it wasn’t actual marriage, but it was more than they’d been allowed before, and Daisy and Mavis, and Henry and Bear were wed by The Magistrate that night, with Delta and James acting as best man and bride/groomsmaid in all the ceremonies.

Immediately afterwards, Daphne and Wendell - who had agreed not to be wed until their friends could - tied the knot as well.

The rest of the Society (BoCo, Pip, Emma) and Siobhan and her husband Declan cheered until they were hoarse.

The next morning, Stephen and Richard Hatt, as well as most of the steam engines, could not understand how every James, Henry, and every diesel on the island were somehow exhausted and happy at the same time.

-

Later that same year

Flying Scotsman showed up on what would turn out to be his last railtour before his overhaul. Not realizing what he’d started way back in 1979, he jokingly asked if Henry and Bear had ever done anything in regards to their relationship.

When they and seemingly every other diesel on the Island regaled him with wedding stories he almost burst a boiler tube!

-

2007

Pip managed to convince the paint shop staff to paint huge fire breathing dragons on herself and Emma for Christmas.

Within two weeks all the other diesels had their own respective animals painted somewhere on their bodies.

After a while, they all started to notice that the animals seemed to be in different places on different days... Daphne's Lion and Wendell's Cobra would even swap locomotives sometimes - not that they'd ever admit it!

After an even longer while they noticed that an identical Bear and Tiger had ended up on Henry and James - despite neither of them having gone near the paint shop in months!

Richard Hatt has asked why this happened, but nobody has yet said anything close to the truth. It may be because they don’t know themselves...

-

2017

A certain Class 5 diesel convinced her driver to hang some mistletoe over the turntable.

Everything was going well until Donald chuffed in unexpectedly and saw Henry and Bear under it.

A lot of explaining was required.

-

2020

Wendell loved Christmas, and had spent every year since the early 90′s covered in lights and pulling the N.W.R.’s holiday train. In more recent years Daphne also joined him, and they usually spent a few days in the first or second week of January getting the lights removed and their paint touched up.

This year, heavy traffic in early January meant that they couldn’t make it to the works until late on the 28th, and spent all of the next day getting de-lighted and touched up. They went to sleep eager to go to work the next morning...

-------------------------------------------------------------------

January 30, 2020

Wendell woke up with a start. What a dream that was! It felt so realistic, and...

55 010 was staring at him, eyes wide to the point of bulging out of her face.

“What?” He asked, trying to shake off the feeling of strangeness - in his dream, they were married, but engines can’t get married - can they?

“Wendell,” She said quietly, her voice shaking. “I just had the most amazing dream.”

“Really?” Maybe they could compare notes, Wendell wondered. Maybe in her dream they were all brightly coloured crime fighting action heroes.

“We were married.” She said after a moment.

Wendell felt the world go fuzzy around him. The last thirty-nine years of his life flashed before his eyes in some sort of visual stereo - one side sad and depressed, the other side...

“Daphne?!” He gasped as he returned to reality.

That was all the confirmation the big Deltic needed. “It wasn’t a dream!” She cried joyously.

“It was,” Wendell said, his brows furrowing under a sudden and massive headache. “But it wasn’t. How can it be both?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” Daphne/55 010 said, her voice laced with quiet joy. “I have sisters. I have a family. I have you.”

Wendell could feel his mind short circuiting. On one wheel, he was in his shed in the works. It was his home. He’d lived here since the 80′s!

On the other... He lived at the diesel shed in Tidmouth. He’d asked The Fat Controller in 1982 if he could stay there so he could be with his friends - with Daphne. His home was the road between Daphne and Bear in Tidmouth.

Bear. His eyes widened as he thought of the Hymek.

He didn’t know the diesel that well, but - he did. Did he? Was this all a shared dream between him and 010, or was Bear really Henry’s husband? Were Delta and James married? What about Daisy and Mavis? Was 010 actually Daphne? He didn’t know what was real or not anymore.

He looked back at Daphne/010. As much as he wanted to believe it was true - that he really did have thirty years of family and love - but as he looked over at the Deltic and down at his own buffers, he didn’t see the blue-and-gold or black-and-gray of Lion and Cobra Stripes, just the basic Rail Blue of two anonymous British Diesels.

Then...

As he looked at 010/Daphne, her dark blue paint started to muddy and shift before his eyes. Starting at her buffers and moving backwards, a ripple of colour began to work its way across her body. The rail blue and yellow warning panels faded away, leaving a trail of sky blue paint and metallic gold stripes. A roaring lion, standing atop a crushed double arrow, appeared below her cab window.

He would have watched the transformation in more detail, but a sudden and intense itching caused his him to look down at his own body. Where there had previously been blue and yellow was now a dark gloss black with grey stripes. The very hint of a snake's tail could be seen stretching around the corner of his bodywork.

It was over almost as quickly as it begun, and when the two diesels looked back up at each other, they didn’t see Wendell and 55 010, they saw:

“Lion?”

“Cobra?”

---

The drivers who went to take Wendell and 010 back to the works had no idea why the diesels were crying like babies, but assumed it was due to the outrageous paint schemes the works had elected to cover them in. They were in no mood for shenanigans, and coupled up the engines and left before the works staff could notice and ask questions.  

In a remarkable parallel to the 1981 of their dreams, Wendell hauled an unpowered Daphne and a rake of coaches from the works down to Tidmouth in the predawn light of winter. They passed Abbey, who shouted hello from the electric branch, and passed Edward, who stared at their paint in utter bafflement.

The train arrived in Tidmouth, but there was no Fat Controller to meet them that day, so they left the coaches at the platform for The Limited and departed for the diesel shed.

Wendell felt another headache come on as he rolled up to the concrete-and-steel structure. With only Bear and Delta permanently in Tidmouth, The Fat Controller hadn’t built the shed until Pip and Emma arrived in 2000, knocking down an old brick warehouse to do so.

But, with Daphne and Wendell, that old brick building had been spruced up and expanded in the 80′s. Looking at the building, Wendell felt woozy as his mind layered an image of the cozy warehouse overtop of the sleek shed.

“There’s supposed to be windows there.” Daphne whispered as she looked at the blank wall of the shed.  

Wendell grimaced as he looked up. That blank concrete wall was in no way special, but at the same time, the light that streamed in through bank of windows set into the brick had been the source of many arguments - nobody wanted to be the one in that road because the morning sun was at just the right angle to shine into the eyes of whoever was parked under them.

But that wall was blank specifically because the architects had realized that - in 1999.

But it was an old shed - from the 1920's, right?

Wendell grimaced and hoped that his mind would pick something and stick to it.

Arriving in the shed to the sound of Genesis drifting through the doors - dream or no dream, Henry had apparently still infected them with his prog rock obsession - the men first shunted Daphne onto one road before putting Wendell next to her,  powering off off his motor and scarpering to the staff canteen and its coffee maker, leaving the two diesels outside.

Their presence was noticed after Bear’s voice drifted out of the shed with a command to turn off the voice activated speaker. In the silence, the quiet pinging of Wendell’s cooling engine was heard, drawing eyes to the outside.

“What the hell are you painted like that for?” Called BoCo from inside the sheds. “And who are you?” He asked Daphne.

“Hi Jaguar, it’s so good to see you.” Daphne evidently did not care that BoCo had no idea who she was.

“Good morning!” Said Wendell, trying to figure out how on earth he was going to explain this. “We had a doozy of a dream last night!”

The other diesels poked out of the doors to gawp at the oddly-painted engines.

Delta in particular looked like she wanted to say something, looking down at her own stripes before looking at Daphne’s.

“You look like you could be my big... sister...” She didn’t make it all the way through her sentence before her jaw dropped and her eyes glazed over. Wendell imagined that this is what he looked like earlier that morning.

“You...” Delta was on the verge of tears. “You were at my wedding. You all were!”

“Your what? You know this engine?” BoCo was more confused than ever.

“Yes! And so do you! We all do!”

“Delta, I have never... met...” BoCo stared in shock after his eyes glazed over for a long moment. “Oh soot and oil... Daphne?!”

And so it went through the other engines, who all suddenly remembered.

“How?!” Bear eventually managed. “How did this - what?”

He was cut off as his paint rippled and changed, an effect that quickly rolled across the other engines. From within the shed, Emma and Pip swore loudly as their NWExpress livery roiled and shifted from blue and yellow to black, white and red. BoCo grimaced as his BR green suddenly became a lot more American. Bear grinned unconsciously, suddenly remembering how well Henry had taken his stripes last time.

Within a few minutes, the disparate group of diesels were gone, replaced with the members of the Non-Standard Survivors Society.

Daphne, who watching this happen with no small amount of glee, squealed with happiness.

-

In the station, Henry and Daisy were congratulating Richard Hatt on his recent promotion to assistant controller of the railway. As they spoke, both engines kept one eye on the diesel shed in the distance - two new diesels in some absolutely ludicrous paint schemes were parked in front of the diesel shed, and a commotion was quietly audible, much to their consternation.

Richard eventually took notice of the new engines as well, and took a long moment to try and figure out why the original Deltic prototype was on his railway. A gasp drew him back to the engines on the platform, both of whom now looked like they’d seen a ghost.

“Are you all right?” he asked with concern.

Daisy, who was wide eyed and shaking on her suspension, was the first to react. “I’m married!” She shrieked before setting off for the junction almost before her signal dropped. Richard wasn’t sure, but as Daisy left, frantically blowing her horn to the diesels in the yard as she did so, she seemed to shimmer in the sun for a moment.

“What?” Richard asked. He thought he’d heard what Daisy had said, but was really hoping that he’d misheard her. He looked back at Henry, suddenly forced to remember that he had to give the engine a day off every March.

“I don’t think I could explain that to you if I had all day.” Henry said quietly.

Richard wanted to investigate the sudden faraway look in the engine’s eyes, but remembered what usually happened to him when he asked the engines personal questions.

As he left the platform, he noted with some amount of confusion the elegantly-painted bear that was on Henry’s cab side. It definitely hadn’t been there when he walked up.

He turned around to ask Henry about it, when James raced into the station, a wild look in his eyes.

“Henry!” He demanded. “What just happened to me?!” The pouncing Tiger painted on the side of his tender gave some idea as to the “what” he was talking about.

Richard turned and fled for his office. The pub didn’t open until noon, and he was not about to deal with any new earthshattering revelations sober.

#ttte #sodor #sodor shenangians #headcanon compliant #headcanon #long #fic #ttte bear #ttte henry #ttte james #ttte pip&emma #ttte BoCo #ttte mavis #ttte daisy #Oc: Siobhan #oc: the magistrate #OC: Delta #OC: Daphne #Richard Hatt is forced to know things #ttte wendell #I'm so opposed to character death I'll retroactively add one so nobody is sad #also i feel the need to point out that nobody else on sodor knows what just happened #as far as they know an engine magically appeared out of the ether and it's because she did

[joezworld]

Adventures in Human Resources (2/2)

Anniversaries 

March 1, 2015

“All right, very funny.” Richard said as he waved the paper around. “Who decided to put in a time off form for an engine?”

His staff gave him blank looks.

“Well it can’t have been Henry who put this in - so it must have been one of you lot.”

More blank looks. 

“What? None of you did this?” He said, waving the time off request form around a bit. 

“Why would we? It’s not like you’re gonna stop being our boss any time soon, Mister Fat Controller Junior.” Drawled Keith, one of his deputies. “Why poke a snake?”

“First of all, I resent the implication that I’m a snake, and second - if you didn’t do it, then who did?” 

“Maybe Henry did it ‘imself.” Tanya chimed in. “I mean, he’s got to have, what, eighty years of vacation days saved up?”

“He’s an engine - he doesn’t get vacation days.” Richard said, unamused. 

Tanya made a face. “Oh, now that’s just evil - eighty years and no vacation time? That’s not right.”

The others murmured in agreement. Richard shook his head. “Okay, before we get inevitably side-tracked, I’m going to ask again - who did this?”

--

The Sheds - Later

“...so it’s clearly ridiculous, but I wanted to get - what did you say?” Richard had made it halfway through his sentence before processing what Henry had told him.

“I said that I had asked for the 14th off.” Henry said again. 

“Why?” The how was irrelevant - Richard suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

“It’s my anniversary.”

“Of what?”

“My wedding?” Henry seemed deeply confused. “I’ve been married for almost 11 years? I know we haven’t been forthcoming about it, but have you not known sir?”

“huh?” There was suddenly a loud ringing sound in Richard’s ears. 

“Sir? Are you okay? You’re looking rather pale.” 

Richard had sit down. “I’m fine.” he said, slumping onto the lid of a tool bin. “You’re married?”

“Yes.”

“To who?”

Bear coughed conspicuously from the other side of the shed. 

 “What?” Richard felt like the world was spinning all around him. “No. You can’t be!”

“Whyever not?”

Richard went on as through Henry hadn’t spoken. “You can’t - I mean - how - you’re gay?”

“My name is Bear. What else could I be?”

Richard was having a hallucination. He had to be. There was no other way to explain this. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Have fun.” He said dreamily as he staggered out of the shed. 

It has been a long time since I’ve had to collect a drunk. Stephen Hatt thought to himself as he helped Richard into the passenger seat of his car. “Are you finally going to tell me what brought this on?” he asked his son. 

“The egnines... theyre fuckinng... fucking... oh god they probably are fukcing aren’t they?”

“Evidently not.” Stephen muttered as he set off for his son’s house. 

#ttte #sodor #sodor shenangians #Richard Hatt is forced to know things #ttte henry #ttte bear #adventures in human resources #ttte fat controller #fic