"Once they built the hub, we lived, we cried, we grew."
FINALLY after so long- did a Halloween piece after nearly two years of not doing such! This here is just TCLRAU!Scotsman in the position of d3rlord3 from the ARG "Searching For a World That Doesn't Exist" by Wifies on YouTube! Highly recommend such, and to cut myself short and summarize it a bit without spoilers- it's basically about a person who found a laptop with Minecraft already installed, and an existing world in it, and what lies in said world is.. a mystery.
Genuinely check it out if you haven't already, such a refreshing and intriguing watch tbch shdjdidj.
Been awhile since I've done something gacha related good grief,, but hey, at least this is one of my best gacha pieces compared to the ones I did before lol. Could've polished it up better had I not been on a deadline being today but I'm still pleased with it.
FINALLY Im back to making stuff about the actual main cast of TCLRAU! Like my Scott bust piece, this aint the finalized design though it carries a lot of ideas that I always wanted to be there since the first draft. Very pleased with how this turned out, not gonna lie.
Oh and, if anyones curious, the model is from Tidmouth Remastered Demo by Greens_Trains on roblox! Same guy who made SKR and NWR 1955 on roblox, highly recommend those games if yall are looking for some realistic models of the main eight and some other ttte characters!
Alright, thought it was time to revive this blog a bit after.. an unofficial short hiatus that happened against my will I fear. Here's a piece of how Mallard looks in my AU, TCLRAU!
Yet again, this is another experimental piece of mine since, well, I'm still getting a hold of my designs being translated into drawn-form like this (read: ITS TORTUOUS TRANSLATING GL2 DESIGNS INTO DRAWINGS AS AN ARTIST WHO PICKED UP DRAWING ONLY A YEAR AGO /lh), but hey, I push through and through!
Also, almost forgot to mention- I finished this on Christmas Eve— and from what I estimate, it'll be my last art piece of 2025.
Everything was burning. Everything was burning hotter than the sun, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop!
As he felt his stream-lining shell start to break away with steam bursting through, making his boiler crack even more than before, but it was even quicker to do so as it had been broken up from all that he held in to keep himself from going back to Sodor. To continue on.
He can’t die right now- he can’t! Please, please not now, not now. All his thoughts at that moment were pleading to Lady Above that he wouldn’t fail right there and then, or worse, especially not in front of all of these people and engines. His brother especially.
After so many years of entertaining one crowd, Sodor, the thought of being able to show what he was capable of to an entirely new audience was enthralling to him. It was an opportunity he’d take after so long of waiting to stay in this loop.
He took it, right when Sir Topham Hatt mentioned it, he took the offer much to his controller, and his own, surprise. With all the safety precautions, he was sure incidents weren’t most likely to occur.
His mind started to fill with thoughts he had suppressed for too long, making this even worse as his anxiety rose, fearing for the worse. And surprise, surprise, it had indeed came true as he heard the whistle of a familiar face, snapping him back to reality.
As he glanced around the track, he would feel the wind swirl through the cracks of his shelling as Spencer sped by, feeling his boiler weaken even more as consciousness crept up from the back of his mind, in a painfully slow way.
He could just feel Spencer starting to panic even faster than he was, simply speeding up to avoid the ghastly sight that was the process of becoming a corpse. Hearing the muffled voice of the announcer halting the engines that were behind him to stop, he’d try to apply his brakes but it would multiply the agony by pushing the stuck pieces of debris more into the little crevices near the brakes.
And because of that, his wheels would screech against the rails beneath him, wearing them down. Then, he’d hear the muffled sound of a plate breaking as a part of his forehead started to numb, he could see a golden liquid flow at the corner at his eye.
As the numbness faded out, now replaced with a sensation similar to that of multiple cuts reopening themselves after being stitched up, his vision would start to feel like looking through a cracked pane of glass—-
—-
“Are you quite sure about this?”
“Of course I am! Besides, why not test if these new wings of mine can benefit me in this form?”
“Well if they don’t prove to be worthy, I’ll just have to donate my own wings to you.”
“You’d be out of your right mind if so!” he laughed as he stretched out his wings a bit.
It had only been a year since he had been blessed with a name, and of course, it’s even more magical than it had been described by others. That shiver that ran through him when he woke up with that name plate on him after a little checkover by the engineers. It was amazing.
But of course, that night where he had just returned from a run and Solario had suddenly bumped into him, had caused him to discover this new human-like mechanical form of his. Though he had no issue with it, Solario was quite on edge from nightmares from what he had heard and it was about time he had learnt about this new form.
Well technically he had known about it ever since he had stumbled onto Gordon in his own humanoid form.
Though his train of thought would be cut off as he glanced at Gordon, who would be stretching his own wings as both of them glanced at what was in front of them. It would be-
“Oh this cliff is as beautiful as I remembered it!”
It would be a cliff, the slope would practically be invisible as the view below it was a bit nerve wracking yet thrilling. Oh to see the world below from above such a height like this would be amazing, hence why they’re here.
He’s already proved he could glide off the ground a bit, why not do it from a great height!
As he stretched out his wings as far as he could, taking a glance at Gordon who was looking beyond the horizon, he’d look to what was infront of him as well. The warmth of dawn as the sun had fallen down to the south to rest at last, leaving the moon to finally rise.
“Scotsman.”
“Yes?”
“I promise, to make up for all of my mistakes, I’ll be there when something goes wrong. I’ll be on standby.”
He’d look at Gordon sympathetically. “You don’t need to make up for anything, dear brother. But thank you. The same goes for me with you, I promise to keep you safe as well.”
“Thank you.”
Scotsman stood precariously at the edge of a towering cliff, the wind tousling his hair and filling his lungs with the crisp, invigorating scent of the open sky.
Below him stretched a breathtaking landscape, an expanse of emerald valleys and serpentine rivers shimmering under the midday sun, a view so vast and beautiful it almost made him forget the gnawing sense of doubt that always lingered at the back of his mind. His wings, short and stubby, quivered with a mixture of excitement and trepidation; they were hardly the kind of appendages that would allow for any real flight, but today felt different.
Today, there was an inexplicable urge pushing him forward, a whisper in his soul urging him to leap into the abyss and embrace whatever awaited him in the open air. He had often watched his brother Gordon soar effortlessly above the ground, his magnificent wings—large, powerful, and beautifully designed, complete with metallic tips that gleamed like swords in the sunlight—gliding through the sky with an elegance that Scotsman could only dream of.
Yet here he was, standing on the precipice, contemplating a jump, unsure of what he might discover about himself.
With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and took a step forward, feeling his heart race as gravity threatened to pull him down. But instead of falling, Scotsman felt an unexpected buoyancy, a lightness that lifted him up and out into the vast expanse of the sky, his body suspended as if cradled by the air itself.
The world below shrank rapidly, and for a moment, pure exhilaration flooded through him; he was flying, or at least floating, caught in an exhilarating dance with the wind that whipped around him.
It was a sensation he had never experienced before, and the feeling of weightlessness enveloped him in a cocoon of joy. Up here, he felt free, liberated from the constraints of earthbound existence.
Yet, amid the thrill, a troubling awareness began to gnaw at him: this incredible ability was not something he understood, nor did he know how long it would last. There was a strange energy pulsating within him, a warmth that surged and ebbed like a flickering flame, and with each passing second, he sensed that this magic was draining, like a well running dry.
As he soared higher, he glanced down, the ground appearing more distant and hazy, the trees like mere dots, and an irrational fear began to creep into his heart. How long could he sustain this? His wings flapped uselessly, offering no real support, only a rhythmic flutter that accompanied the growing panic within him.
Soon, he felt the first heavy tug of gravity asserting itself, the joyous buoyancy beginning to slip away like grains of sand through his fingers. Scotsman gasped as he realized he was beginning to descend, the world rushing up to meet him far more quickly than he had anticipated. It was not long before the exhilarating thrill of floating transformed into the cold grip of fear, and in that moment of despair, he felt utterly alone, suspended between the ground and the sky, a mere moment away from disaster.
But just as he began to fall, a powerful rush of wind announced Gordon’s arrival. Scotsman looked up to see his brother soaring toward him, wings spread wide and majestic, cutting through the air with practiced grace.
“SCOTSMAN! BROTHER!”
—-
‘BROTHER!’
Is what he would’ve yelled out had it not been for the lump that formed near his vocal cords, gripping tightly on them as he witnessed in horror his own brother start to become as literal as his name.
He would try to speed up, trying to call out to him, but every attempt would be in vain as his mind clawed at him. His own mind betraying himself. Even though he knew his brother was in agony just by looking at him, debris flying towards the engines behind him, he couldn’t talk.
But at last, as he slid back his smoke deflectors as much as he could without resisting, he would glance at his brother through blurred eyes from the flames that brought a nerve wracking warmth near his face, opening his mouth to call out to him-
“Evacuate the area! All engines behind NWR N. 4 must remain behind him for safety, and for those ahead of him, get as far as you can then head to the emergency sidings marked with white flags!”
‘Get as far as you can’ was all that rang in his mind as he looked to the engines on the track beside his, their distraught faces being carved into his mind everytime he looked at them. He’d try to brush it off as he heard mumbles from Gordon, trying to focus on him instead.
But Scot, those glaring eyes that gaze towards you, couldn’t you consider what they have to say? What to say about your poor weak brother in this moment? How unreliable he currently looks as they pity him? Hm?
“Scot- Please–”
How could you associate yourself with such a weak sibling? It was a surprise enough such an antique were to appear in such a grand streamlined shell, hell, it was a surprise he even still survived!
Stop, stop. His ears rang as he finally looked at Gordon in the right mind, his eyes widening as he saw the… The cracks. No, those weren’t any cracks. The yellow tint in his eyes was shifting colours, to that colour.
Oh look at him, it seems his time is up. A shame, really. He would’ve been a fine static display next to Mallard, don’t you think?
Scotsman’s thoughts spiraled, a mix of disbelief and dread. How had it come to this? Gordon, once a paragon of strength and pride, now reduced to this fragile state. The cracks were spreading, like a disease consuming him from within. Scotsman could almost hear the mocking whispers of the other engines, the silent judgment of the museum visitors.
He deserves better than this, Scotsman thought, a pang of sorrow piercing his heart. But what could be done? Time was merciless, and even the mightiest engines couldn’t escape its grasp.
Gordon’s eyes met his, a flicker of recognition and despair. “Scotsman… I…”
No, don’t speak. Save your strength, old friend. Scotsman wished he could say the words aloud, but they remained trapped in his mind, a silent plea for mercy.
Accept it, Scotsman. This is the end for him. Embrace the future, and let the past fade away.
But how could he? How could he let go of the memories, the shared triumphs and struggles? Gordon was more than just an engine; he was a brother, a comrade. Scotsman’s resolve wavered, his anxiety mounting. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, suffocating.
I can’t watch this. I can’t bear it. The thought echoed in his mind, growing louder with each passing second. His wheels trembled, and he felt an overwhelming urge to flee, to escape the unbearable sight of Gordon’s decline.
Without another thought, Scotsman turned away, his heart heavy with guilt and sorrow. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t watch his brother fade away. As he slid his smoke deflectors with a click, speeding up as fast as he can, the echoes of Gordon’s struggles haunted him, a reminder of the relentless march of time and the fragility of even the strongest among them.
—-
Gordon’s wings were a magnificent sight to behold, the feathers layered in a way that mimicked the natural world but were imbued with a glimmering strength, the metallic tips shining brightly in the sunlight, embodying both beauty and might. Scotsman felt a jolt of relief shoot through him as Gordon’s keen eyes locked onto his, the familiar warmth of his brother’s presence igniting a flicker of hope in his heart.
With a fierce determination, Gordon swooped down, his powerful wings propelling him forward at breathtaking speed. Scotsman’s heart raced as he felt the air shift around him, and before he knew it, Gordon was there, his strong arms wrapping around Scotsman with an assurance that chased away the shadows of fear.
In an instant, the world shifted again, and instead of falling, Scotsman found himself cradled in the safety of Gordon’s embrace, his brother’s wings working in harmony with the currents of air to lift them both up, soaring effortlessly back toward the sky.
Scotsman clung tightly, heart pounding with a mixture of gratitude and awe as they glided together, the thrill of being so high, so alive, rushing through him like a wildfire. The initial panic faded, replaced by the warmth of familial love and the realization that he was not alone in this moment, that even in his darkest fears, his brother would always be there to catch him, to support him when the weight of the world felt too heavy to bear.
As they descended slowly, Gordon’s laughter rang out like music, filling the air with joy, a sound that grounded Scotsman in reality, reminding him that even if he could not fly on his own, he was always anchored by the unbreakable bond they shared.
When they finally landed on solid ground, the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over everything, and Scotsman felt a newfound appreciation for the experience, a profound understanding that it was not merely about the act of flying but about the connections that uplifted him, the moments shared with his brother that truly made him feel alive.
Even as he grappled with the mystery of his floating ability, he felt an assurance that he was not defined by his limitations but rather by the love and support that surrounded him. The sky, once a realm of dreams and doubts, now felt like a place of possibility, a canvas upon which he could paint new stories alongside his brother, one leap at a time.
And in that moment of quiet realization, standing side by side with Gordon, he knew that the journey was far from over, that together they would discover the heights they could reach, not just through the power of wings but through the strength of their bond, forever ready to leap into the unknown together.
But at this very moment as Gordon looks back at this memory through the line between unconsciousness and the cruel reality that is happening right now, that’s quite the lie, isn’t it?
Hours would've passed by now, seeing the sun would be rising on the horizon and flocks of birds would be flying through the sky. It was a peaceful day today.
It was the morning after such a celebration had happened last night, and the engine of the hour last night would start to be awaken to his shed door creaking as it opened, yawning as he opened his eyes to see who it was.
Four people, entering the shed, huh. That's five less people from last night. Eyeing the four people, he'd try to recall the basic things he might know about them.
Lloyd, the one who christened him with a name, well more like a name that was easier to recall rather than his already given name.
Then there were two other people he couldn't recognise, a fit ginger that seemed related to Emrys and a brunette with salt and pepper hair. But speaking of Emrys, he'd light up as he spotted him among the four of them in the corner.
Emrys would notice this as he smiled back at-
“Stephen, a good day to you, young Rocket,” he greets him as he steps on his foot plate, examining his controls and firebox door, while the other three start checking over his boiler and collect their tools.
But Stephen on the other hand, he'd glance outside the skylight above him, observing the clouds slowly move and form themselves into different shapes, though it wasn't as mystifying as the night sky it was still indeed a lovely sight to see.
The birds chirping were like the crickets chirping last night, except more calming. More pleasant and peaceful. It was so bright today, brighter than last night, he could see the birds flying over the shed and hear the ruffles of bushes from outside.
And speaking of brightness, the sun was starting to color the baby blue sky with a tangerine shade of orange as sunbeams shine through the clouds and into the shed through the windows, the light bouncing off his glossed livery as well.
As the outside got brighter and brighter, pushing out the cold air, a beam of light would start to form from the skylight. His crew paid no mind to it as they continued their work.
But then, the beam of sunlight would get brighter and brighter, to the point it'd-
“AGH!”
“oH CHRIST ABOVE-” Lloyd exclaims as Stephen’s eyes are blinded by the beam of light that suddenly shines over his eyes, nearly falling off the footplate from Stephen’s sudden flinch, seeing as he had just gotten on it. Though thankfully enough Emrys had grabbed Lloyd’s wrist, pulling him back on the footplate.
The other two young engineers would take a glance at the two on the footplate, seeing as they were behind Stephen’s tender digging through a crate of tools and materials. An awkward silence would fill the air for a bit.
Though the silence would break as the sound of screeching would amplify and ring through their ears.
“Fuck- Stephen!”
Emrys would make his way to the front of Stephen, seeing what he was doing.
“The light, thE LIGHT, THE LIGHT!”
Stephen was trying to reverse, but thanks to his brakes, he was starting to fracture them as his wheels tried to roll, his eyes closed tightly as he tried to avoid the sun that blinded him.
One of the young engineers would immediately climb onto the footplate of Stephen and release his brakes, suddenly stumbling forward as Stephen sped into the buffers behind him with a big- SLAM!
“What the bloody hell happened?!”
“Rocket! Are you okay?!”
He’d relax as the flames in his firebox stopped flaring up, calming down as he groaned from his buffers now aching from the sudden impact that came from slamming himself into the buffers behind him. Opening his eyes after they’ve stopped watering from the contact they made with the sun rays from above.
“I’m- I’m alright,” he croaks out as he takes a glance at this person who had just entered through the sheds, to which his eyes light up seeing who it is.
“You! Sir- Sir, you! You’re the man from that wall memory!”
“Wall memory?” the man raises an eyebrow at the young engine, confused as to what he means. Though a quick witted crewmember would hurriedly walk over to the man.
“Sir,” the crewmember starts before clearing his throat. “The young rocket, Stephen, meant to say photo.”
“Ah.”
“I apologise sir, we haven’t taught him an abundant amount of phrases up to this point.”
“I see.”
The man said as he gently took off his hat, kneeling down to Stephen’s level with a hard face yet soft gaze towards him.
“So then, tell me, young rocket, how much do you know of me?” He asks curiously.
“I know so much of you! So many stories of you being one of the wisest of engineers in this region, and you’re the one to design me!”
“Oh really now?”
“Indeed! But then, I don’t know all of it. I don’t know your name.”
This would make the man chuckle softly at the sudden shift of enthusiasm to the cluelessness of the young rocket, his innocence infectious to most of the people in the room with him.
“Well, to introduce myself to a young yet revolutionary creation such as yourself; I am Robert Stephe–”
—-
“Stephen!”
“oH LADY–”
He’d flinch at the familiar yet sudden voice as he nearly slips off the flatbed he’s on, thankfully the ropes and clamps that support him underneath the tarp he’s been covered with would keep such an incident from happening.
As the engine in front of Stephen came to a smooth stop, releasing some steam, he could hear quick footsteps get closer and closer to his vicinity before they came to a stop, the tarp on him being lifted to reveal his face.
“Sir Robert?”
“Stephen, goodness me- Are you sure you’re better off without a soul lock? I understand how some of those locks would’ve brought discomfort to engines, yes, but you’ve been.. You’ve been restless these few days. I think those locks would benefit you with some comfort and rest.
“I say this with full confidence, I’ll be fine without one.”
“You nearly lost your balance while falling asleep, Stephen.”
“Keyword, nearly, I’ll just make sure to not let it happen again.”
Sir Robert sighed, “Alright then Stephen,” he says as he glances at Stephen, letting go of the tarp as it covered Stephen’s face, heading back to the cab of the engine pulling this flatbed.
Feeling his clamps be tightened, his mind would drift off as their journey on the rails continued.
Millie is out at Locomotion’s exhibition this week while he and Glynn are being transported to the NRM, it leaves him worried for Connor and Caitlyn.
From what he knew, they were the ones to take over some of their jobs alongside some of the narrow gauge engines, though knowing those two twins, he knew there would be some struggles.
What if something happened with Connor, say if his anxiety rose up again. Stephen’s noticed how on edge he’s looked the days before this week, though thankfully he hadn’t caused any delays to the express, but he’d guess some of the passengers would like a word with him after the slight turbulence.
And with him handling the main express while Gordon was away, it sure would’ve get to his nerves a bit.
He’d let out a soft sigh as he pushed back those thoughts. He just hopes Caitlyn would keep, as she said one time, ‘help him no matter how much the rails get bumpy.’
“Steph?”
His thoughts would cut off as he heard the call of a familiar voice.
“Yes, Dare?”
“Are you okay?”
“No, no- I’m just making sure.”
“I’m alright, didn’t you hear it earlier?”
“Alright.”
Well.. An awkward silence would fill the atmosphere as the only sounds that came from anyone present would be the chugging of Daire as rays of the sun shined through the tarp covering Stephen, helping him stay awake while he regained his consciousness.
But rather than continuing his last train of thought, his focus would go towards Daire.
Daire was quite the hard worker that one, always on time with his goods and was one of the few engines who got troublesome trucks to cooperate during rough times, was only soft towards those who were close with him. He was the embodiment of that phrase, ‘you respect me and I’ll respect you.’
Well, sort of. His gaze went faint as he recalled those times while he was among the humans, some of those big engines from the north would belittle him every damn chance they got, and it pissed him off thats for sure. It was quite unfair coming from the express engines who apparently were so glamorous, and at the time, were covered in filth and grime.
But in the end, they might’ve got the karma that was heading their way after the Beech-
“Do you ever miss them?” Daire suddenly murmured, breaking the silence.
“Pardon?”
“Do you- Do you ever miss your siblings, Stephen?”
“Well, I wouldn't say I had actual relatives, but I did have colleagues, friends who were like that, so I suppose I do. But I’ve accepted they're most likely in a better place,” Stephen explained with a glance down to his buffers.
“Oh, understandable.”
“Why do you ask?”
Now it was Daire's turn to look down at his buffers.
“Well, nothing.”
Stephen would let out a soft sigh. “Daire, you can say it,” he said as he could spot the silhouette of the Ivatt's through the tarp a little.
“No, no- Fuck it, I miss mine. There.”
“.. I figured.”
Daire would silently cursed himself underneath his breath as his speed starting picking up, trying to push back those thoughts. Though as subtle as it was nearing to be, Stephen would notice it as the wind started to push the tarp, feeling it float from his back buffers a bit, getting a bit concerned for the Ivatt tank engine.
“Look, Daire, no one can blame you for having those thoughts. Some others even went down the slope of insanity from having that happen to them, having to lose their siblings.”
“I know.”
“What I'm saying is; you can talk about it, you can let it out if you need to. It's better to let it out, rather than let it build up pressure until your safety valve bursts.”
“I know,” he croaked out, trying to force out words so as to not be rude, memories flashing through his mind as they came flooding in like a tsunami. Slowly flooding his mind.
As Stephen opened his mouth to continue, he'd pause for a moment. Browsing through his thoughts trying to look for the right words to say.
“If it helps,” he started as he cleared his throat a little. “I had this brother.”
“Really?”
“Yes, his name was Sans Pareli, though we called him Peppermint back then. He was a bit like you, always fidgeting with his wheels the second he woke up then letting it all loose when he got fired up for the day. Him and myself were very close. One could say we were twins, similar to twins.We lived together, in both engine and human lives, always there for eachother.”
“And your point?”
“The Rust had gotten him a decade from now.” Stephen explained, his voice shockingly straight forward and empty. “Passed peacefully as he passed us his infectious laughter and jokes,” he continued with a crack in his voice.
Daire would be most shocked at this. “God, Stephen I’m so sorry.”
“You shouldn't be sorry, it's alright. ‘Those pricks can't best me at my worst, I'll just haunt them like a ghost for this halloween,’ he said. Even with that, I still grieved for weeks, months. Years.”
“I-”
“But you know what? I let it all out, and afterwards I felt the best I could feel. Like getting up a steep climb then speeding down the slope.”
“Wouldn't engines mock you?” Daire asked out of instinct.
“Well, if they did, it would be on them for being the pricks in that. I would just be grieving. And that means the same for you if engines pick on you for the same thing, your just minding your own business while they keep poking in. They’re the pricks, not you.”
Daire would stare at the rails deep in thought as he rolled across them, taking in the words of Stephen. It- He’s heard some of it before, yes, but it’s just hard to adjust to it. Adjusting to letting out emotions after blocking them out for so long.
There were times during his younger years where when he showed a drop of negative emotions, he’d be locked in a shed with a soul lock while having to struggle with such infectious, drowning emotions.
Unlike most engines in their recent years of life at the time, Daire was left to rot and rust from his emotions. But over time, no one, but himself were the only ones to save him from spiralling into absolute mental madness. Nearly succumbing to the other rust. That wretched rust that took his friends, his siblings away.
But over the years, he gained new friends, both human and engine. New friends that saved him from so many times he couldn’t even count it with blinking, and yet they’d save him a second before blinking!
As Stephen’s words finally sunk in long enough into his mind, he’d look to the orange clouds in the sky.
“Thank you.”
“Pardon?”
“I said thank you, horse, thanks.”
“Ah well, pleasure is mine. You young lads tend to need help, aside from mechanical help.”
“I’m beyond seven decades, Stephen.”
“You all are always youngins to me!”
Daire would chuckle at Stephen’s retort as they glided across the rails, his speed starting to ease down while being kept at a good pace, feeling his fire warm up more. He could feel his crew’s footsteps as they were nearing to the station.
As Sir Robert peeked out the cab, he’d spot a sign, it would read-
“Send a message to them! 30 minutes early, we’ve arrived at Kingfisher Halt!”
The New Hall would fill with the sounds of conversation and excitement faster than building it, another year, another round of visitors from all over the region, every spot in there would be filled with all sorts of steam engines.
Each batch of engines that came would represent the railway they’re currently owned by, the more well-known ones coming to the exhibition.
All kinds of steam engines there; from narrow to standard gauge, and from 19th century to new builds, a big and broad roster of engines.
But before we get to them, we’ll focus our attention on the person who’d tap their mic twice lightly, clearing their throat as they caught the attention of the spread out crowd.
“If I could have most of your attention, visitors and contributors, old and new, I’d like to thank you all for coming here to see another moment of history in motion.”
The man started, as the sounds coming from the crowd would die down as he spoke.
“I am honoured to be passed down with the role my father, Seth Harken once had. Continuing the legacy of, not just of his love for engines of all types and how much he's done for both engines and humans, but his own personal legacy. To all of us, including myself.”
His gaze softening, he'd straighten his posture as his grip on the microphone tightened. Taking a quick glance at his watch.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
“But, in his words, let the hour begin!”
Tock.
As a cacophony of whistles blasted in the air, echoing across the halls, the event would officially be in full motion.
——
“Why so worried, dear sister?” Came the comforting voice of the Stirling Single, N. 1, separating himself from the group consisting of Flying Scotsman and Black 5s, glancing curiously at his younger sister.
To which said younger sister would flinch at the sudden call, her train of thought breaking. Though glancing at him with a warm smile once she recognized who it was.
“Ferris, hello.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Milly, what's the matter? Is it those Midlanders again?”
She'd chuckle softly at such a claim.
“You say that as if you weren't mingling with those Black 5s, dear brother,” she says as she glances at said Black 5s, overhearing their conversations mixed with jabs at each other and general gossip, not dying down a single bit considering the Flying Scotsman was practically the host of that session.
“Well, I wasn't exactly mingling. I was simply offering up advice.”
“Advice about mentoring the newest edition to the LBSCR? It seems your reputation as a mentor yourself is still kept up, well, you're more like a fath–”
“Oh hush, they'll hear us!” Ferris’ face would flush with red a bit in embarrassment, reversing into the buffers behind him as Emily held in a laugh, even with the decades that flew by, she still wondered why he hid things like this from those he loved.
She will admit, even if it was rare, he tends to be quite the silly engine when being straightforward about his clear affection towards all the engines hes taken under his wing, or cab, and right now is one of her favourite examples.
She’s seen how much he’s rubbed off on the Atlantic, they’re practically father and son as the humans say. It’s quite heart warming, like how some of the shunters back before the grouping era had picked up on Ferris’ mannerisms. It’s very amusing.
“I know that look of yours Milly, what’re you planning to pull on me now?”
“Oh please, if you had known said look, you would’ve known it wasn’t that.”
“Then what on Lady’s name are you plotting in that scandalous mind of yours?” He jabbed jokingly at her, though would be met with an Emily who’d gaze out in front of her thoughtfully.
“But not in a Great Western manner, it is similar to how the humans would cope with lost. If you recall how my fireman in the 80s had coped with the news of his aunt’s unfortunate passing with his religious beliefs as I recall, then it is similar to how I’m thinking now.”
‘Well,” she sighed before she started. “I suppose it’s just the faint yet vivid presence of our siblings, our colleagues.”
“Ah.”
“I see.”
In all honesty, she didn’t mean to drag down the mood this quickly, but she can’t exactly help it.
Looking back at it all. It’s most likely the toughest run to have experienced, from speeding through the glorious sight that was the River Trent to then having to take in all the neglect the rest of them had to face. Though thankfully it was willingly, since the remaining of them had agreed to it before being locked away-
“Well, I suppose I’ll place down that note for myself.”
“If it helps, Emily, I could recommend a relief crew from the Mid-Norfolk. They’ve been quite the help for myself and mostly to others, an example being that Thompson.”
“Mayflower?”
“Yes, him. He’s been in need of it for quite a while from the looks of it, I will admit.”
“Just contact my crew with yours, ask for a Mr. Onix, and they’ll come right away. Though it will depend on how far and busy they are when you do so.”
“I see-”
The sudden buzz of a radio would echo in Emily’s cab, her firebox starting to warm up again as her fireman threw coal inside it. Good gosh, why did it have to be now?
“Well, I bid you farewell for now, Ferris. I hope to see you soon after this run.”
“Same goes to you dear sister!” He replied as the both tooted both of their whistles at eachother, watching Emily leave with a wheesh of steam.
——
“Now that was a blast!”
“A blast of whistles you mean!”
The three would burst into laughter as they arrived at their designated spots within the new hall.
A little flow of people would form around them, murmurs of conversations blurring together and curious people eyeing them in either surprise or admiration, or both! Either way, the engines would simply chat among themselves as if they were the only ones in the room.
Though there would be one engine in between those atmospheres, st always taking a glance behind them, as if waiting for something. Something, someone.
Time moving slower than a tank engine trying to pull an express consisting of eight full coaches on their own.
It was painful, in simple words. It was crawling from the back of their mind to consume their thoughts.
Not the greatest thoughts to go through your mind during a wonderful time like this.
No, no. They just need to be calm. He's received the overhaul, he's been checked out, hell you were there in some of those sessions, he'll be fine.
Just enjoy the moment, enjoy the momen-
“Nadi?”
They'd snap out their train of thought, looking to wherever the voice came from, to which they'd get a bit embarrassed at. Well shit.
“Yea- Ah, what is it?”
“You were staring at that 9F, the Black Prince, are you okay?”
“Well, Betto-”
“Do you have a crush on him?”
“The fuck? No, of course not!” Nadi’s smoke deflectors slid back as they glanced at Lyd, as she rolled beside them on the narrow-gauge tracks next to the standard-gauge tracks the three were on, quite baffled at this sudden claim. Considering how the Black Prince is more of a brother than a lover, it was odd.
Though they couldn't exactly blame Lyd, Nadi doesn't talk about other engines much often, other than the ones they usually speak of.
“Besides, why would I have a crush on him?!”
“Well, why would the Flying Scotsman have a crush on that King Arthur class? Hmm?”
“Okay fair point, but stil-”
Suddenly, a familiar whistle would blast through the atmosphere, cutting off the four's conversation. Considering their brakes would be applied by their crews, Lyd would reverse to see who it’d be.
Though as she did, her eyes widened in surprise as she took a glance at their nameplate, now recognizing who it was.
“Oh, Leslie!”
——
Oh how loud it was here, well, at least it wasn’t as chaotic as Sodor. It’s just louder than it.
He’d reverse into the coaches behind him as the shunter behind them uncoupled from the coaches and let out a little “peep!” of a whistle, to which he’d whistle back at them.
As he glanced to the sign that read-
“We’re at Redworth! No- No, I’m not fucking with you I’m serious!”
“Sounds like she’s fucking with you, old chap.”
He will admit, he did miss them. He missed how comforting they were to him, that light feeling that swirled in his firebox whenever he interacted with him. It was an odd feeling, in a good way, and it seems to run in their family as the same feeling has started to resurface in recent years since the 2000s started.
“You’re older than me!”
Gordon would hold in his laughter as he heard his crew jab at each other a bit. The two have been with him for about, nearly a decade as he recalls. Wow. Though they’ve technically been with him for nearly two, since they go back into the late 90s as his crew. Being the brother and cousin of his crew before them.
As much as he’d like to go into detail of this feeling, he just couldn’t find the right words to. It was similar to this feeling he had felt before, it was the bond between him and his siblings, though that didn’t fully match up with what this odd, swirly feeling he felt with them, with his crews.
Though unfortunately he wouldn’t be able to further his research and guesses into it as the sound of a whistle blasted through the air, his hearing being pierced like a bullet shooting through paper. As he glanced to his left, the whistle would be muffled as it fades out by the sound of pistons pumping, surprised at who it is as his eyes widened.
“Hello there, little brother.”
“Ah, ah. That’s my phrase, little brother.”
“A phrase that’s originated from me, Scotsman, or would you like me to refer to you as one of the elderly considering your memory might not be working too well?”
Scotsman would slide back his smoke deflectors, revealing his jokingly ‘offended’ look as he took a glance at Gordon.
“Oh says the one who’s beyond a century old!”
“You’ve literally just become a century old, little brother. And you do represent a century.”
“Oh fuck off," he muttered jokingly, unconsciously letting his american accent slip out as it mixed with his natural one.
After a slight pause between the two, they’d burst into light laughter as they sped down the line side by side, blasting their whistles in a duet as they wheeshed steam, doing what they love. Their purpose.
A void is all there is. Complete silence, nothing to hear, see or feel in the atmosphere.
You don't know why, but you feel numb. That numbness would shiver throughout your body. Emptiness, it’s emptiness.
Emptiness only grows louder as the minutes pass by.
It feels depriving, a craving to burst out builds up inside of you. It latches and pulls on you constantly as you start to gain control.
Something inside of you awakens, but you don't know what that is.
This is all new, very new, you're new.
And you’re here. You’re aware of the wind that whistles beside you and the cold air.
But then something clicks inside you.
“Grab the tools, it's gonna blow!”
“It’s glowing, it’s glowing!”
“No you idiots it's just the lamp!”
“‘TIS FIRE IS GOING WILD!”
“JUST PUT IT OUT! PUT IT OUT!”
“Would you all CALM DOWN!?”
“IT'S BLOODY RAINING HARD DONNACHA! HOW CAN WE CALM DOWN, DO YOU WANNA PICK UP THE SLACK THOSE BASTARDS LEFT US TO TRY?!”
“WATCH YOUR TONE, THEY'RE GONNA SCREW OUR JOBS IF YOU KEEP IT UP!”
You're aware.
Sudden stomping that made him flinch, smells that made him want to choke, motions he couldn't control, so many voices yelling back at one another, it was too much. It was too damn much.
he just wanted it all to STOP-
“STOP!”
Everything went still. The voices would stop. His breathes would be heavy as he opened his eyes, his face would feel complete. He would feel complete.
But it wasn't with light in mind, frustrated tears cracked from his eyes as dizziness took over him. He felt so overwhelmed, he didn't want to feel this, everything was so overwhelming.
The people around him would notice this sudden burst from him, their quite shaken by how he was able to speak so soon, from their expectations at least.
But one of the people would walk up to him.
“You there, worry not. Ignore them all, you're safe. You're alive.”
He’d pause as he observed this human slowly got close to him, like if he was a bluebird ready to scratch this human out of feeling threatened, but he didn’t when they placed their hand on his buffer as they kneeled down to face him. The warmth that cracks through the cold of the night.
It would calm him down a bit as the tears on his face started to dry up, the fresh tears that came in would be wiped away by this person.
“Easy, easy. I’m Emrys, I’ll take care of you with all these other folks.”
As if he’d just processed the thing Emrys had said before what he’s said now, he’d look him in the eyes.
“.. Alive?”
“Quite, you’re quite alive right now, you’re more alive than Lloyd over here.”
One of the people behind Emrys would stare daggers at him, another of them shushing this person as he opened his mouth to seemingly throw jabs at Emrys.
“You have a bright spark, like the evening stars that watch us above in the sky.”
He says as he gestures up to the sky above, he'd look up as well, seeing the sparkling sky above through the skylight.
Even if he couldn't see it much, his eyes would widen in awe at the stars above. It was gorgeous. This has to be one of his favorite things right now, the stars.
A smile would form on Emrys’ face seeing his reaction, then as he stood back up and turned around to face the people behind him, the engine would be mesmerised by the stars above. Not taking his eyes off of it.
“Christ, wait, what do we name him?”
“Well he's a lad, why don't we call him a lad? He's got the fire of one!”
“Can we not refer to him as ‘Stephenson's Rocket?’”
“That's akin to calling someone ‘the Son of God’, it feels most inappropriate and it’s quite the mouthful to pronounce.”
“Well then. Any more suggestions from you two?”
Even with a conversation starting up, he wouldn't pay any mind to it as he watched the stars above slowly move, though connecting the stars together that formed a silhouette.
He'd flinch a little as he felt the sudden light stomp of a foot on his foot plate, then hear the creak of his firebox be opened as coal is shoved into it, to which he would calm down a bit.
But he wouldn't take his eyes off the sky, not even for a second.
“Hey, Rocket,” A person would step in front of ‘Rocket,’ snapping his finger at least twice to get his attention.
“Lloyd don't-”
“Rocket, Lad, how would you like a name?”
His eyes would widen a bit in surprise, focusing his vision on this ‘Lloyd’ person.
“A name?”
“A name, something that would be exclusive to yourself. Something that others can refer to you as.”
He’d dig into his thoughts, trying to find a conclusion as to how he feels about this.
But with how Lloyd explained it, it was like seeing mini stars. It sounded great, and he was great too!
“Yes, a name!” He said with a grin, to which Lloyd chuckled softly at his reaction.
“Well then, lads, let's give this Rocket of the Century a name!”
Lloyd cheered to the others as he stood up from his knelt position, the ‘Rocket’ smiling even more at the positive atmosphere. Though murmurs would echo through the shed.
“Bringing up earlier, what do we name him?”
The murmurs would echo even more now that's been said, the Rocket would be confused at this sudden shift. Though Lloyd would clear his throat.
“So, how about Stephen? A short cut for Stephenson's Rocket.”
“Stephen,” Stephen repeated to himself in a whisper, it sounded nice, very nice. He liked how it sounded.
Murmurs of agreement would die down as people agreed with Lloyd's suggestion.
“Stephen, now that's a true lad's name.”
“Indeed it is, very fitting for a terrific engine!”
“Sounds good enough! Let's call him that!”
“I like it!” The young Rocket beamed with a bright smile in the cloak of the night, the people inside would be entertained by his reactions, like an energetic child finding the jackpot of trinkets to fidget with.
Stephen liked the people around him in the shed, even if they fought with eachother (like earlier), they all looked so happy to be here. He was happy as well.
Happiness was all he could hear, the sounds of laughter and conversations filling the room. It all would block out most of the sounds from the outside.
The warmth in his boiler would grow even warmer as the night went on.
He liked the stars and his new name. And now adding on the stories the people around him started to tell him.
Stephen. The creation of L&MR, winner of the Rainhill Trials, now blessed with sentience alongside a name.
Stephen, Stephen.
STEPHEN!
——
“STEPHEN!”
Stephen would nearly jump off the rails hearing someone yell out to him, reversing into the buffers behind him with a slam.
He had just gotten back to Ulfstead Castle after being brought to Arlesdale for an exhibition, it was nice to see the miniature engines after a while yes, but it tired him out to an extent.
But at last, there would always be something going on whenever your on Sodor.
And as he looked in front of him he realized the voice would belong to Millie, who’s face went from pure joy to worry as she saw his reaction, he would let out a soft chuckle.
“Well that's one way to wake up an old locomotive such as myself.”
“Stephen I’m so sorry, about waking you up-”
“Ah well, you didn't exactly wake me up, I was already awake just dozing off. So it's alright.”
Though as Millie was about to say something, she would decide not to as she felt someone step out her cab to which Stephen would smile warmly at.
“Good morning to you, Sir Robert.”
“And a good morning to you as well, dear Stephen!”
He would beam at Stephen as Millie reversed a bit, holding onto his phone. To which Stephen would raise an eyebrow at noticing it.
“So, what's with you both being so excited?”
Sir Robert would clear his throat.
“Well you see, Stephen, there's been news of a new steam engine.”
“Wait, didn't you tell me this a year ago?”
Sir Robert chuckled softly at Stephen as Millie felt her fire start to flare up again, and he'd just be more confused than ever.
“Sir, I already know that, what are you on-”
“The new steam engine was finally brought to life Stephen!” Millie revealed as she rolled forward a bit, enthusiasm filling her tone of voice. To which Stephen's eyes would widen in shock.
Sir Robert would start to explain more about the newly awakened steam locomotive and how they were doing, Millie would add on more information she recalled as he did, though Stephen on the other hand.
Everything would go still for him.
It was already shocking enough they had bothered to go with the thought of building a new steam locomotive in this century, and after a year of being complete yet without a soul, he had thought they left his locomotive to be a fully operational replica.
But no, no they didn't. They kept going. Just like other steam locomotives, they kept going, and that inspired people to keep the legacy of steam alive.
And for this locomotive to be the same class as a long gone class, lost to the history books and now revived because of them, it was the most unexpected thing to happen in his life.
This locomotive, Tornado Peppercorn, was built from the belief to keep a legacy alive. Carrying the torch to lead the next generation of steam locomotives alongside that Evening Star.
It- It was overwhelming to think that this is reality, but in a good way.
Anyways it took me awhile (due to other things I had to do) but I'm glad I finally FINALLY got to post something on time, so HAPPY 4/4 TO THE galloping sausage aka shooting star THE ICONIC NUMBER 4 HIMSELF!!
