#cabs the brake van

[wonderful-magician]

#stex #starlight express #stex caboose #bv the brake van #cabs the brake van #shitpost

[gb-diesellok]

#starlight express #stex #stex greaseball #stex rusty #stex caboose #greaseball the diesel #rusty the steam engine #stex brake van #stex cabs #cabs the brake van

[finleyforevermore]

I've been busy... /ref

Here are some of my StEx pride headcanons in the form of some nifty flags! I had a blast making these!

Carrie is cisgender and asexual.

Rusty is cisgender, demiromantic, and asexual.

Opal is cisgender, panromantic, and asexual (more specifically I imagine she's sex-repulsed ace)

Zero is omnisexual and genderfluid.

Cabs is cisgender and bisexual.

Joule is girlflux and pansexual.

And I made these two for my friends @gb-diesellok and @electricfied-wolf! Greaseball is omnisexual and intersex, and Elektra/ELEDtra/E-lectra is biromantic asexual!

I had a blast making these, and honestly, if anyone has any StEx (Sonic is cool too!) pride flag/hcs requests, please drop em in my inbox! These were a lot of fun and I'd love to make more for you all!

That's all for now, happy Pride month friends! ♥️🧡💛💚💙💜

#happy pride 🌈 #happy pride month #pride headcanons #starlight express #stex #carrie the luggage van #asexuality #asexual #rusty the steam engine #demiromantic #opal the first class car #sex repulsed #zero the freezer truck #panromantic #omnisexual #genderfluid #cabs the brake van #bisexual #joule the dynamite truck #girlflux #pansexual #intersex #inbox is open #flood my inbox #flood my ask box #send in some asks! #requests

[cerenemuxse]

Like Snowflakes in December

💗 December 1968

CW/TW: Swearing (like two words) and Injuries (no graphic details)

The story can be found at @eosr-by-muxse for easier access.

It’s been years since Edward last felt the sensation. He thought it wasn’t anything important. Perhaps it was this entire time.

Thank you @nightsinfoxx15 and anon for beta-reading for me!

~

One winter morning, Edward scuttled about in Wellsworth Yards. He was searching for the brake van that was usually there.

The engine questioned himself multiple times if someone had taken it, if he misplaced it, or if he simply overlooked it. No matter how many times he looked, though, it was nowhere to be found. Not even a spare could be found, and he was running late.

"Bother," he huffed. With no time to spare, Edward coupled up to his train of empty trucks and took them down to the very end of his branch line. All the way south was Brendam Docks. At the west end of the docks, going a bit up north, was a junction that led in two directions. One led engines back up north and the other led them to the Sodor China Clay Pits.

This was nothing out of the ordinary for Edward. It was his usual morning routine. Pick up any empty trucks at all the Main-Line stations and gather them in Wellsworth, ready to take the following morning. When morning arrived, he'd get a brake van and leave for the clay pits. That wasn't the case today, and it bothered him for a while—though not as much as what else was bothering him recently.

The concern was that the train of empty China clay trucks was usually very long, between twenty to thirty trucks. Today, he was pulling twenty-six. Even with the amount of experience the elderly engine had with trucks, Troublesome or not, it was still concerning. It was important to have a brake van for any sort of train, so he was taking a risk.

Though the absence of a brake van was concerning, the cannily familiar, daunting feeling he felt that had resurged within the past few weeks made that seem like nothing in comparison. Whenever it came, Edward became distracted, spacing out from the world around him. His pipes felt like they were being pulled on and thumping against one another like a heartbeat, building huge amounts of steam that he couldn't even force himself to make. Sudden waves of heat rushed to his face from his firebox.

This wasn't the first time this happened. It went away just as soon as it happened that first time, so he never said a word, brushing it off as something else.

Two months ago, that feeling came right back with full force, throwing the engine off. It was much more intense than the first time, which made him worry that something could genuinely be wrong.

When the odd feelings started, it was getting closer to the winter season, the season when he started to have problems with his parts. He knew his crew would already be on the lookout for any signs, in hopes of preventing a nasty piston accident. His mending back in 1952 had fixed it for a good while before it came back. Since then, it took much longer to happen, typically late December to early January. Ma crew already has somethin tae worry aboot, he thought, on the day he chose not to tell them as soon as possible. I can wait for it, he reasoned.

Now here he was, strolling down his branch line and barely noticing that he passed Brendam, the point where he should start paying attention and keep an eye out for the signals up ahead. There was a small junction entering Brendam Docks, which led to the loop in the area. He had to go straight ahead on the tracks heading south, not on the west tracks.

He should tell them.

No’ now thouch, he figured. Maybe later.

The trucks needed to be there on time, and he was running late already. Or at least he thought he was.

In reality, Edward was able to make up for time as he hadn't realized that he was going faster than normal. His crew had been tapping on his cab for a while, trying to get his attention, but he wouldn't respond to them.

Despite their engine's attempts to hide it, his crew was fully aware of Edward's recent odd behavior. It became more prominent when they entered December. His fireman, Alf, had assumed it had something to do with the expected chance of breaking down, but his driver, Rhett, knew it was something else. Edward had initially been weary about going out in the winter until he realized that the breakdowns would just happen inevitably, but that was years ago. The elderly blue tender engine had simply accepted it.

Tapping wasn't getting Edward's attention, so they started hollering, calling out his name. It worked, only to send them flying forward and into Edward's backhead as Edward pulled on his brakes, thinking something was wrong. The empty trucks bashed against each other and pushed towards him. Thankfully, these trucks weren't the Troublesome ones.

"Whit? Whit happenit?" Edward exclaimed. His warm brass eyes darted around, searching his surroundings.

Both men collected themselves. Rhett peeked out through Edward's cab windows. "Nothing's happened, old boy," reassured the Welsh man. "We just want to know what's going on with you."

"Yeah, you've been acting odd recently," added Alf slowly. "Is something on your mind?"

"Um…" I did say later. "I think," Edward began slowly. "I micht be havin’ some problems wit’ ma boiler."

"Think?" said Rhett as Alf peered out of the other cab window.

"Ma pipes. It feels like I'm forcin’ oot more steam than I can make."

Alf winced. He pulled away from the cab window and examined Edward's gauges and firebox. Not sure if what he was seeing was what he suspected, Alf tapped on Rhett's shoulder. Rhett looked at him swiftly as Alf pointed at their engine's gauges. Taking a glance, he noted that Edward's steam pressure was… fine. It wasn't abnormal. It hadn't been abnormal when Edward had been rushing down the line.

Edward could sense his crew looking at his gauges. "It's no' all the time. It happens oan and aff…"

"So it just happens?" asked Rhett with a concerned expression.

The old iron pondered for a moment. "Aye."

His crew looked at one another. They had two choices. The final choice was ultimately up to Edward.

"We can either go to the Steamworks or continue the day as normal," prompted Rhett. "What'll it be, old chap?"

Of course, Edward quickly responded.

"Continue the day as usual. The lads at the claypits need these trucks as soon as possible, and we've got a busy day o’ passenger and guids trains."

"Very well," said Rhett. He adjusted his hat and pulled off Edward's brakes to continue their journey to the clay pits.

…

The journey to and from the clay pits went rather smoothly. At no point did Edward's steam pressure rise to a concerning level. His driver hummed peacefully once they reached Wellsworth Junction, stopping since their signal was red. Molly swiftly passed by with her five honey-yellow coaches, the Honeypot as the train was called. The blue engine blew his whistle, greeting her. He got a response, and once she was out of the way and down the Main-Line his signal turned green. Releasing his brakes, Edward headed for Wellsworth Yards for a quick rest before the first passenger train.

Or at least he would've if he hadn't remembered something.

"Och, I've nearly forgotten!" he exclaimed. "Today's scrap collection, innit?"

"Yes, it- Whoa!"

The modified Larger Seagull suddenly jerked forward. His movement startled his crew, nearly knocking them off their feet. "I need tae get tae Tidmouth, quickly!"

Before Alf could speak, Rhett stopped him as he looked at Edward's steam pressure gauge. Once again, it was normal, though a bit higher to make up for his current speed. They were starting to doubt what Edward was supposedly experiencing, had anything to do with his boiler.

…

The first run of scrap collection, starting from Tidmouth and ending at Wellsworth, had gone rather smoothly. Much to Edward's relief, he finished a bit earlier, giving him enough time to get his snowplow fitted—having skipped it that morning—and collected his coaches.

As Edward pulled out of the yard, going east with the five branch line coaches, he quickly did a rundown of his day's work. Trucks huv been deliverit tae the clay pits and the first half o’ scrap collection is done, he thought as he lightly hummed a tune. Now all thon's left is the passenger runs up until midday, which is my break. After thon, I huv a few passenger runs, and then the train o’ China clay tae Vicarstown- Och! Maybe James will pass by this time-

"Edward, you've gone too far ahead!" exclaimed his driver.

As soon as Edward heard him, he snapped on his brakes, quickly shutting his eyes in the process. Again, his train bashed against him. Once his eyes opened, he was shocked as he found himself all the way near the level crossing, shortly before Wellsworth Junction.

"Sorry!" he quickly exclaimed, embarrassed as he backed down to the station.

Rhett patted his engine's cab. "It's alright, Edward. Just be a bit more careful."

"O' course!" Edward replied. "I will."

Once Edward reached the station, passengers quickly boarded the coaches. Rowdy schoolchildren climbed on board after saying their goodbyes to their parents. Teenagers and young adults either strayed behind to let the children on or rushed to get on board to beat the children, hoping to get a decent spot. Very few elders climbed on board, some with the assistance of the stationmaster and Edward's guard.

The elderly blue engine couldn't help but chuckle with a warm smile at the children's energy. He could feel the coaches jostle slightly as the children got rowdier. It would die down eventually, typically early on in the run, so he wasn't worried. His crew was, however, though not about the children. Rhett hadn't called out for Edward just because he was getting closer to the level crossing.

"Your steam pressure went too high there, old boy," said Rhett. "Your brakes wouldn't work either."

Immediately, Edward's warm smile faltered. "It did? I didnae feel it thon time." I wid've if I wisnae distractit, thouch, he scolded himself.

"You didn't?" That raised a bit of an alarm to the two men. "It went up fast, and the lever was stuck. You didn't feel me trying to pull it?"

"Naw, I didnae." How oot-o'-space did I go?

Rhett hummed. "We should call for another engine to take this train while we take you to the Steamworks."

Edward panicked. He didn't want to have another engine pull his train. Not at a time like this. It was the early winter, when passenger and goods services were heavy in preparation for the winter holidays, especially in the morning. Unfortunately, "like minds think alike" was the way to describe how busy it got. Traveling was typically planned for the morning so goods trains were pushed to the afternoon. This made it so that traffic wouldn't cluster up during the day, and Edward wasn't about to disrupt that.

"I can take this passenger train just fine," insisted Edward. "I took those trucks tae the clay pits wit’ naw issue."

Rhett and Alf looked at one another. Their engine wasn't wrong.

“Alright, we’ll give it another go,” Rhett relented. “But if anything is off, you need to let us know, alright?”

“Aye, Mr. Driver,” agreed Edward.

When the guard blew his whistle, Edward let out a bright whistle before departing the station.

…

The morning went by with no further issues. During the midday break, Edward’s crew checked him over. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. His pistons were fine, his side rods weren't loose, and his smokebox was clean. There was no blockage in the firebox from the look of things, so Edward was fine.

When they finished the afternoon passenger runs, before heading for the China clay, everything was normal. The Victorian engine went on with the day, humming about, as the worry about the problem slowly faded from his mind.

Humming a slow-paced, upbeat tune, Edward headed down his branch-line to pick up the trucks of China clay waiting for him at the dockyard. This particular train was heading to the Mainland, but would be dropped off at Vicarstown so Murdoch would take it from there. Once he arrived, Edward was promptly coupled up, leaving as soon as he had arrived.

The early December cold air stroked against his boiler, sending waves of chills throughout his frame. The steam spewing from his pistons, cylinders, and funnel wasn’t doing much for him.

Edward was switched onto the Main-Line and headed directly towards the goods tunnel cutting through Gordon’s Hill. With grace, he picked up speed, streamed through the tunnel, and came across Rebecca, who was hauling a long goods train on the other line. They pipped a quick “Hullo!” as she passed by. Edward greeted with a different warm smile, his eyes creasing together as his snowplow completely covered his mouth. Whistling in the tunnel was forbidden, due to concerns of triggering a possible collapse. The tunnel was stable enough to withstand the racket the engines made thundering through, but not enough if they added in the shrill of their whistles.

Once the ex-SR West Country passed, Edward didn’t find anyone else in the tunnel. He came out to clear tracks right as his signal turned green. Edward pushed through the junction, switched to the track right of him, decreasing his speed, and continuing down the Main-Line.

It took a while but eventually, Kildane came into view, and so did a certain scarlet tender engine, bringing a smile to Edward’s smile. As Edward passed the station he whistled brightly, and James reciprocated. The red engine’s signal changed and he was soon off, chasing after his blue friend.

“Edward! It’s been a while!” exclaimed James once his smokebox lined up with Edward’s, his buffer beam being ahead of Edward’s.

“It certainly has!” Edward agreed. “Whit’ve ye got this time?” he questioned, noticing the stone dust amongst the snow covering the bright red medium-sized tender engine.

“The complete Shen Valley package,” James replied smugly, to which Edward laughed, before huffing. “Though I’d like to know why people want so much stone at this time of the year. It’s cold outside! How do they build in these conditions?”

“People ur truly somethin’,” hummed Edward. “But then again, they work around us.”

“Touchè,” playfully pouted James. “How’s that tank engine on your line doing? Ryan, was it?”

“Aye. He’s been such a great help since BoCo wis put oan the Main-Line.”

“At least they’re not being a bitch about him anymore.”

“James!” Edward reprimanded, knowing very well who “they” were.

“You know it’s true!”

“Still, you should never speak like thon! Please dinnae tell me Jacqueline is learnin’ any o’ this.”

James gasped, faking offense. “Now, I would never teach my own daughter such things!” He dropped his voice to a low whisper. “Though I doubt she doesn’t know a few in French.”

“Dinnae get her tae teach ye.”

“No promises~!” James sang.

Edward rolled his eyes humourously.

The two continued their conversation, jumping around from subject to subject as they chuffed down the Main-Line. At one point, James said something humorous and Edward began to laugh. Years ago, the mogul Class 28 had come to learn that the Larger Seagull’s squawking wasn’t just restricted to being frightened out of his frame.

So he pressed on.

“James, patch aht!” huffed Edward, trying to control his laughter as it got worse and worse. He saw this coming the moment he started laughing. Oh, curse James’ good humor.

“Nu-uh!” teased James. “I’ll get that squawk out of ya, Seagull.”

That broke the dam.

“Sto-op!” squawked the flustered engine, continuing to laugh.

It felt so good to laugh. The warmth boiling within him was enough to overwhelm the feeling of his piston rod cracking.

…

Once Edward and James arrived at Vicarstown they both dropped off their goods trains, which were promptly shunted away by Rosie and Dennis, preparing it for Murdoch. Both tender engines left as soon as they had arrived, heading for Tidmouth Sheds as a day’s work came to an end.

They were having a peaceful conversation and were going up Gordon’s Hill with the winter sunset approaching when James started huffing heavily.

“James?” asked Edward worryingly. He took notice of James’ chubby cheeks starting to burn.

“Shit,” hissed James. “I’m low on water.”

The blue engine steamed off the profanity, focusing on the issue. “Maron is’nae too far. Wid ye like me tae shunt ye?” he offered.

“No, no! I’ll be fine,” reassured James as Maron came into view. “I’ll stop here. You go on ahead.”

Edward felt a bit on the edge. “I can wait wit’ ye.”

“How full is your water tank then?”

“Halfway, but-”

“I insist. Besides-” James chuffed a humourous huff. “I can catch up to you just fine. I am-!”

“Yon fastest red engine oan Sodor?” hummed Edward with a teasing smile. “I ken thon all too well, James.”

“As you should!” puffed up James. “Now, you go on your merry little way, and I’ll catch up to you. D’accord?”

“O’ course,” replied Edward with a giddy chuckle as warmth rushed to his freckled cheeks. James took no notice, as Edward’s snowplow covered a good part of the warm-brass-eyed engine’s face. Both engines pulled into Maron, with James switching lines to get to the water tower. Edward bid his temporary farewell and went on his merry way down the hill.

The bubbling and boiling grew gradually but Edward didn’t think much of it. How could he? It was warm and comforting, wrapping Edward in a loving, invisible embrace. An intoxicatingly, inviting feeling that the ex-Furness Railway engine reveled in more and more.

That feeling was snatched away when his driver started smacking his cab side. “Edward, slow down!” warned the English man. “Your steam pressure’s gone up again!”

“Do you hear that?” questioned Alf. “Do either of you hear that?”

Edward focused on the noise of the world around him. He heard it, and he felt it.

Loud groans and creaking could be heard from his chassis as a soreness started to spread from his cylinders. He felt the cracks on one of the piston rods, which had grown drastically.

With a loud CRACK!, the damaged piston rod broke off. He screamed in agony as the pain shot through him. Hot steam spewed furiously from his piston and cylinders. The rod dragged on the tracks, repeatedly hitting the sleepers before breaking off. Edward ran over it before he screeched to a halt, managing to avoid further damage to his chassis. Once Edward came to a complete stop, his crew immediately jumped out of his cab to inspect the damage.

The rod lay across the tracks, posing a danger to any other oncoming engine. The crew quickly resolved to grab the rod and throw it into Edward’s tender, letting it sink into the coal. Rhett rushed to the front, finding Edward in a state of despair. Tears of hot water mixed with coal dust streamed down his cheeks, staining his face and the edge of his snowplow. His sobbing, muffled by the snowplow, was interrupted with hiccups.

Gosh, it hurts, he thought as he cried. It hurts so much.

“We’ll call for help, Edward!” Rhett exclaimed frantically. “Just hold on!"

"I think I see an engine coming!" hollered Alf as he began to frantically wave down the approaching engine. "Stop! Stop!" he chanted.

The engine screeched to a halt on the track and behind Edward's tender, in time to not bump into Edward with his snowplow.

"Edward?" the engine called out, peering over from the right of the cerulean iron horse.

The thumping of Edward's boiler tubes and the rush of warmth to his freckled cheeks returned as the recognizable Cockney Londoner accent rang bells. “James!” Edward cried out immediately, frightening his driver, who had kneeled to inspect Edward’s chassis. Despite the intolerable pain that began to haze his smokebox, Edward noticed and quickly murmured an apology. His driver gently stroked the front edge of the matte black running board to comfort the hurting engine.

"He's broken a piston!" exclaimed his fireman to James and his crew. "Could you take us to the Steamworks?"

“Of course!” replied James with haste, beating his crew to a response. Engines interacting with other engine crews weren’t common, so Edward’s fireman was thrown off. With two huffs and a whistle, he backed away. “I’ll turn around at Maron! I’ll be back, Edward! I promise!”

Typically Edward would be fine with that, but with the pain becoming unbearable and hazing his thoughts, he didn’t want him to leave. Dinnae go, dinnae go! Come back! he thought as he sobbed harder, Please come back! Tears continued to trickle down his freckled cheeks as James quickly chuffed away.

…

As promised, James returned, and quite quickly at that. Regardless, it felt like an eternity to Edward as the pain continued. When James backed down on him, his thoughts were swimming. He couldn’t concentrate on his driver’s voice, who was trying to warn Edward that James would buffer up to him. So when James did just that, Edward let out a startled squawk, and the thumping of his boiler tubes increased. It felt like a smokebox ache within his boiler.

Was it a boiler ache? He wasn’t sure. He never had one before.

“Boiler…” he murmured to his driver, who perked up from watching James buffer up his tender to Edward’s. “Boiler ache.”

This seemed to have frightened his driver. He couldn’t tell too well as his eyes felt heavy, letting his eyelids droop. “A boiler ache?”

“I think…” replied Edward.

“What do you feel?”

“Tubes ur throbbin’…” Edward let out a heavy huff of steam, startling the others. “Like a smokebox ache.”

Worry crossed his driver’s face who quickly rushed to Edward’s cab, where his fireman was. Edward could barely hear the conversation.

“...boiler ache…?”

“...was flushed…throbbing.”

“...a boiler cleanout.”

James began to haul him. It was a gentle tug of his rear coupling, yet it was enough to startle Edward. “Does it hurt more?” he heard James holler.

“Naw!” he cried out. Edward continued huffing out sobs, and let his hiccups take over.

“We’ll get there, I promise! Just hold on!”

Edward would’ve if passing out hadn’t been so enticing, letting the haziness of the pain take over.

…

“...Edward? Edward!”

“Keep it down, James!” scolded another engine.

“Well, I’m sorry for worrying!” huffed the red engine.

“Again, I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.”

“Victor!” whined James.

The pain was gone, replaced by light soreness. Edward furrowed his eyebrows at the noise before gently cracking his eyes open with a soft hum. It was enough to get the other two engines’ attention.

“Edward!” exclaimed James, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness!” rejoiced Victor. “You had us worried, Edward.”

“Worrit-? Och!” Edward perked up. “I-I’m sorry!”

“Sorry?” inquired James, with Victor eyeing him. “For what? Passing out? Worrying us?”

“Er- aye?” Edward replied, flustered as his freckled cheeks burned.

“Well, don’t,” huffed James. “It’s not your fault that you were in pain.”

The smaller engine hummed. He twitched his nose to wrinkle out the stiffness from wearing his snowplow, which was when he realized that it was gone. They must’ve taken it off, he thought, letting his vision wander. From the nearby windows, he noted that it was dark outside, no sunlight could be seen. “How lon’ wis I oot?”

“From when you got here, about an hour,” replied Victor. “We’ve gone in and taken off what was left from your broken piston. We don’t have any spare rods, so you’ll have to wait for the shipment to arrive.”

With a heavy huff, Edward spoke. “I should’ve jist come here in the first place,” he admitted. “I think somethin’ might be wron’ wit’ ma boiler, too.”

“Ah. About your boiler. There’s nothing wrong with it,” Victor noted. “We’ve checked multiple times while you were out, but we haven’t found anything wrong.”

“...Sae I’m fine?” Edward asked, not completely convinced.

“You’re fine,” Victor insisted, who slowly looked over at James. Edward followed his direction, confused.

“Fine, I’ll be leaving,” huffed James as he began to leave. “I just wanted to make sure he’s okay. There’s no harm in it.”

“We know, James. We know,” sighed Victor.

With another huff, James looked over to Edward. Again, a rush of warmth came over Edward’s frame. “Bye, Edward! Get well soon!” he exclaimed before letting out two cheerful whistles.

Edward couldn’t help but chuckle. “Bye, James!” he replied with a warm smile. James smiled back as he left, and Edward’s eyes followed.

Once James was gone Victor glanced over at Edward. “We need to talk about your boiler.”

“But I thoucht-”

“That was just to get James to leave,” interrupted Victor. “He’s been bothering everyone since he got here, and I don’t think that would do you any good if he stayed any longer.”

“He did whit? Why?” inquired Edward, confused.

“My friend, it's because James genuinely cares about you. He was frantic about you,” Victor replied, his words full of perplexity. “Are you two close friends? I don’t remember you both being on such healthy terms.”

“Aye, we huv. We’ve been since thon runaway incident a few years ago.”

“You mean back in nineteen-fifty-two?”

“Aye.”

“I don’t think sixteen years is ‘a few years,’ my friend.”

.

.

.

"Looks like the auld iron caught ye after all," teased Edward with a chuckle. With rope tied from one buffer to the other’s, the two engines gently strolled down the Main-Line. Edward expected James to retort back with something more teasing, an insult even, but no. James said something else.

"I'm sorry I said all those things about you, Edward," James replied. Lacking the ability to pop open his smokebox door, no thanks to his glasses, Edward couldn't see the other’s face well but with what little he could, Edward could see and hear the sincerity of his apology. "Thank you for saving me."

It took a bit for Edward to reply as he processed what James had just said. He apologized and thanked him.

That was new.

"It's alricht, James," Edward replied after a few odd seconds of silence as the pair continued down the line. "And ye're welcome."

"You were splendid, Edward."

A rush of heat flashed throughout Edward’s frame to his already-burning freckled cheeks, turning them pitch black as they journeyed to-

"Wait, where are we going?" asked James after a bit of silence.

"Och! Um-," Edward panicked. The little “old iron” wasn't used to being complimented by anyone, even from the Fat Controller. He was just an engine who did his work as told to, or when he knew it was right. So to say that James' words had flustered him would be a big understatement.

It's not that they were enemies or co-workers who hated one another. No, what happened between them was far from it. They were mostly friends. He and James had gotten along as years went by, facing a few ups and downs in their friendship, and they were able to get through just fine. He didn't expect much from the bright red medium-sized tender engine, though. Anything more than a simple "Thank you," really, which was the usual response he got that he was very content with.

But a compliment? Edward couldn't remember the last time an engine had said such a thing.

Realizing that he hadn't properly answered James, Edward shook himself, a shake light enough that it wouldn't jostle his crew around before he said anything. The rope holding them together shifted around. "Tae the next station!" he huffed out quickly. "Surely ye're low oan water."

James hummed, which only made Edward panic a little more. "My tank does feel rather light," James eventually replied. The exhaustion of going down the line without any stops could be heard in his voice.

"Then tae Kellsthorpe we go," replied Edward.

His response was soon followed by light conversation between the two, as both engines were exhausted, one running low on water and the other on the brink of falling apart. How James hadn't gotten into more trouble going down Gordon's Hill was beyond Edward's comprehension, which he expressed to the other. James expressed the same.

But then James asked, "You don't sound alright. Are you okay?"

And much to Edward's relief, they pulled into Kellsthorpe Station, or Kellsthorpe Road as the engines like to call it, where Sir Topham Hatt II was waiting for them.

.

.

.

“Sixteen?” gasped Edward. “Och my…” He gave his frame a shake. “Whit aboot ma boiler?”

“That’s the thing. It’s perfectly fine, Edward,” replied Victor, receiving a perplexed look from the warm-brass-eyed engine. “What concerns me most is what you felt. Your crew told me that you felt your tubes were throbbing and that your face was flushed.”

“Ma face wis flushit?”

“Was and still is,” indicated Victor as Kevin came over with a mirror. It was typically used when engines wished to see how they looked, either after a paint job or an accident. “Would you-?”

“Aye,” Edward interjected, growing worried. Kevin veered a quick “Hello” at Edward as he positioned the mirror next to him. Once Edward’s reflection came into view, he was a bit startled. His freckled cheeks were burning furiously and stained with streaks of dirty water. “Is ma fire still goin’?”

“No. It went out about a few minutes ago after we ran checks. Your boiler is still warm, however. I don’t mean to insinuate anything, but has this happened before?”

Edward grimaced as Kevin drove away with the mirror, being extremely cautious with it. “Um, aye, actually. When James and I were headin’ tae Kellsthrope Road, tae meet wit’ the Fat Controller oan the day o’ the runaway accident.”

“I don’t remember you mentioning it.”

“Thon’s because I never did,” the elderly blue engine admitted nervously. “It went away oan ma way here sae I figur’it wis nothin’. Thon, maybe, it wis jist the rush o chasin’ James. I huvnae had it since until this September.”

Concerns overcame Victor’s face. “Since then? When exactly did it start?”

“When…”

.

.

.

It was late into the evening, way past the time when the engines normally ended their day. For Edward, this hadn’t been the case. He had been up since last night in the late hours of the evening, delivering a goods train to the midlands on the Mainland. The yardmen there had been kind enough to let him sleep for about an hour before leaving for Sodor. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep before the journey. Hell, he had gotten more of a nap at Wellsworth Yards after having taken the Mayor of Sodor home from the dinner party at Vicarstown.

Maybe doing the special job wasn’t such a good idea.

“Och, well,” he had told himself when picking up that goods train. “Anythin’ tae help a friend.”

Especially when that friend was in need, he thought as he headed to Wellsworth Sheds.

James had been so excited to do the special after a hard day’s work, resulting in being covered in mud, coal dust, and sticky sugar from wheel to dome. His well-deserved washdown was meaningless when he found out about a tiny scratch on his paintwork. It seemed like the world was against him that day as his plan, evidently not foolproof, to dry his new paint job had failed.

He hadn’t expected James to ask him to take the special instead. Edward would’ve said something, knowing that it wasn't fair. But seeing James desperately not wanting to disappoint the Mayor and make the Fat Controller seem like a fool, he’d agreed with delight, hoping his positive energy would cheer up James for just a moment. The same way James would for him.

It worked.

He could only wonder what the next day had in store for James when he told the Fat Controller of the issue that evening. Looking back, Edward wondered if he had done the right thing. What if instead of helping James, it only made the situation worse? His nose twitched as he grew worried.

Edward came to a stop at Wellsworth Junction, just east of his home. Despite his worries, he wanted to just sleep in for a good while. The trip back home was pleasant, but without enough rest it was exhausting as well.

Rhett patted his cab when he let out a yawn. “We’re almost there, old boy. Just a bit more and then you’ll be sleeping in your shed in no time.”

“Sleep wid be nice,” hummed the Victorian with mild humor.

And that’s when he heard that splendidly bright whistle.

Edward immediately perked up. What was James doing up so-? He let out a gasp when he saw a pair of red and cream coaches streaming behind James’ tender.

“Och, ye dae look splendid taenicht, James!” he praised without another thought as the bright red medium-sized tender engine passed by him on the adjacent line with the coaches. He was surprised to see the Mayor inside the coaches, who waved at him once he saw the engine.

“Thank you, Edward!” James boasted. “I know~!”

It was a brief moment when warmth rushed to his freckled cheeks. It wasn’t acknowledged until his crew pointed it out when he settled down in his shed that night. All parties brushed it off as being caused by his exhaustion. That Edward had been pushing himself a bit more to get home and it was enough to make him exhausted.

.

.

.

After some hesitation, Edward replied, “When I came across James when he took the mayor tae Vicarstown.”

Victor eyed Edward with suspicion. “What about the other- No, answer this instead. Think about every time it has happened. Is there something in common with all those instances?”

This drove Edward deep into his thoughts as he looked ahead at the setting sun. Before now, he had it happen twice. Once when he went through his mental checklist that morning, and once again when he was traveling with James to and from Vicarstown before Edward went ahead.

When James and he were heading to Kellsthrope once the chase was over? The day he returned from the works, working better than before, and the engines blew their whistles, James being the loudest of them all? The evening he returned from the Mainland and came across James? The times he spent with James, either taking their respective goods trains to Vicarstown or pulling one together? The times he wondered if he would come across James?

James. James. James. James… “James…”

“Pardon?” inquired Victor.

“James is always there,” Edward whispered nervously, before looking over at Victor. “What diz he huv tae dae wit’ this?”

The small red narrow-gauge engine cleared his pipes. Just that was enough of an indication that Victor knew or at least—had an idea of what was going on. “I don’t want to pry, but if we want to figure this out, we’re going to need to talk about your relationship with James. I think I might know what it is, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions, my friend.”

“Och, um… O’ course.”

“How does James make you feel?” Victor bluntly asked.

The forwardness caught Edward off-guard. He fumbled with his thoughts. “Well… he makes me feel…”

How did James make him feel?

.

.

.

“I’ll turn around at Maron! I’ll be back, Edward! I promise!”

“We’ll get there, I promise! Just hold on!”

.

.

.

“...he makes me feel safe,” he began slowly. “He cares aboot me, and he shows it.”

.

.

.

“Nu-uh! I’ll get that squawk out of ya, Seagull.”

“Sto-op!” squawked the flustered engine, continuing to laugh.

.

.

.

“He makes me feel joy,” he continued as the warmth of his cheeks grew. “The minute I start laughin’, he diz whit he can tae keep it goin’.”

.

.

.

“Could you take the Mayor to the ball for me?” James sputtered out frantically. “Please?”

“Och!” Edward perked up. “I’d be happy tae, James.”

“Oh, thank you!” James sighed with a smile of relief.

.

.

.

“He makes me feel reliable. He trusts me enouch tae rely oan my help. I ken I am but its thon reassurance frae others thon helps.”

.

.

.

“Whit happenit yesterday?” Edward inquired. It was the day after he had returned to the Mainland and he had managed to come across James at Kildane. His worries and curiosity got the best of him.

But instead of answering the question, James smiled warmly. “Thank you for that.”

This slightly confused Edward. “Whit for?”

“For sticking up for me,” replied James. “I didn’t even ask you, and yet you did it anyway.”

“Och, well, he wid’ve askit, sae I thoucht I’d tell him. It wis jist the most logical thing tae dae-!”

“No one else would’ve done that for me,” interjected James, making a point. “Maybe Toad, but no one else has done it when I couldn’t be there. Thank you, Ed.”

“Och! Y-Ye’re welcome!” he quickly replied. And then that throbbing sensation in his boiler happened, and the blue engine couldn’t shake off why.

“You were always splendid.”

.

.

.

“He makes me feel appreciatit. I’m still surprisit he callit me splendid, twice even!” chuckled Edward lightly, letting the giddiness slip out.

.

.

.

Pumping his piston with excitement, the newly mended Larger Seagull engine rushed down the Main-Line in the early hours of the morning. He felt amazing, gliding down the tracks with his mended parts.

“How do you feel, old boy?” prompted Charlie as they neared Tidmouth Yards.

“I feel amazing!” chortled Edward. “I feel new!”

“That’s the spirit!”

And once Edward came into the yards, he was unexpectedly welcomed with a barrage of bright cheerful whistles. The loudest amongst them all came from the very engine he saved all those weeks ago. The one who missed his driver very much, but had missed Edward more, as Edward would come to find out a few days later.

.

.

.

“Lovit,” Edward noted. “He makes me feel lovit. Maybe thon’s why he’s ane of ma closest friends.”

Victor hummed. “Friend, or something more?” he questioned.

“Somethin’ more?” inquired Edward. “Whit dae ye mean?”

“Do you know what it is between a couple?”

The question confused Edward. “I dinnae understand…?”

“Love. You are in love with James, Edward. And not just as a ‘close friend’. The same way a human does for someone else, for the same reasons you’ve felt that way.”

His eyes widened behind his brass-framed glasses. “But he’s a close friend!” Edward insisted, as if Victor’s conclusion was a scandalous discovery. “Engines-! We-!” the Victorian sputtered, becoming a furiously flustered and burning mess, though managing to suppress his squawks. Sure, he’d seen it between the passengers. He wasn’t oblivious to it. He just never questioned it, like the others did. Brushing it aside as “a human thing.” “How dae-?”

“I may be in the workshop most of my time, but I’ve heard enough from the men to know about these things,” hummed Victor. “They tend to put up a front, but when they know each other well enough, they’ll talk about their partners to each other as if they’re the most precious things in their lives. I don’t fully understand this specific concept, but I understand it enough to see when someone is in love. You’re not the first engine to deal with this, from what I hear, I can promise you that. But you are the first engine on Sodor to do so, as far as I know.”

“Sae it's… normal?” Edward inquired with hesitation.

“You remember how people acted when they began to realize us sentient locomotives have feelings?”

Edward could remember that all too well. “I dae.”

“It’s normal,” reassured Victor. “But we, locomotives, believe it isn’t, because of what people say. I’ve learned a lot since I came here to work in this place, and that was one of the first things I learned when I got here. Other than English, of course,” Victor added humorously.

A small laugh managed to slip from Edward’s lips. “Sae I’m fine. As in, actually fine? Other than ma piston rod, thon is?”

“You’re fine, Edward. There is nothing wrong with being in love with another engine, especially when they’re someone close, from the sound of it.”

With a modest burn, Edward smiled warmly. “Thank ye, Victor.”

“You’re welcome, my friend,” replied Victor. “So will you tell him?”

“Naw!” Edward squawked suddenly. “He diz’nae ken whit love is! I cannae jist dae thon tae him!”

“But you can’t keep hiding something like this,” reprimanded Victor. “It might make it awkward for you both if you do.”

“I cannae jist drop somethin’ like this oantae him, Victor!” argued Edward frantically. “Thon’s selfish o’ me, and I cannae dae thon tae James.” Warm-brass-eyes looked away and down at his buffers. “He diz’nae deserve somethin’ sae sudden tae be droppit oan him, somethin’ thon could scare him aff. I dinnae want tae lose him because o’ ma wants…”

Victor relented. He was prying much further than he wanted and intended to. “My apologies, Edward. I’ll leave it to you. It is your decision. I didn’t mean to poke any further.”

“I-It’s fine, Victor. I’m sorry, too, for ma outburst. I ken ye mean well, but I dae need time tae process… this,” Edward emphasized.

“I think you’ll find that you will have plenty of that while you wait for your piston rods,” reminded Victor humorously.

“Touché,” replied Edward with a chuckle.

“Alright, it is getting late, and we can’t do much for your repairs until your piston rods come in, so we’re calling it a night,” noted Victor. With a double whistle and a wheesh of steam, Victor bid his farewell. “Good night, Edward. Get a good night's rest.”

“Guid nicht, Victor!” exclaimed Edward as Victor left for the shed, leaving the elder engine alone with his thoughts. He stared off into the night sky as the workmen shut the doors of the Steamworks. At least these doors had windows at the top, so he could still see through them.

His warm-brass eyes followed the snowflakes that fell, dancing in the chilly air. For once, he could agree with Thomas that snow was light, fluffy, harmful nonsense, or it was from a distance.

From what he understood, love sounded like the way snow worked. At first glance, it’s sweet and oh-so-lovely—Edward’s seen it multiple times—but when one first experiences it or even begins to question it, love becomes more than a concept. It becomes a rabbit hole of questions, ones that Edward couldn’t answer, despite his age and being known as someone to seek guidance from.

He was like a snowflake falling from the sky, wandering and not knowing what, or why. But one thing was certain, and he knew Victor was right. He kept rethinking the times he spent with James for the past few months since that day. The more he did, the less doubts there were about Victor’s conclusion. Just like a fluffy and delicate snowflake in the early days of December, Edward had fallen into a pile with many others who had gone through… this. He had fallen in love with his close friend. The thought still shocked him.

As Edward let sleep take over, he let out a soft but nervous sigh. “I’m in love wit’ James,” he whispered with a yawn. The weight of reality sunk within him as he dozed off to sleep.

…

The following morning was quiet when Edward awoke in the back of the Steamworks, where he had been left last night. He yawned as Kevin approached him.

“The Fat Controller is coming to see you, Edward!” he announced frantically. “He’ll be here shortly.”

Edward perked up from his slumped frame. “Och, thank ye, Kevin!” he pipped with gratitude.

Kevin giggled as usual before rushing off to find Victor.

About an hour passed when he heard the sound of that familiar, splendidly bright whistle shrill throughout the Steamworks. Warm-brass eyes went wide, and he became nervous. In an attempt to push it away, Edward was about to whistle back when he realized he couldn’t. He didn’t have any steam in him. How silly of me, he thought as James approached him with the Fat Controller in his cab.

Once James came to a steady halt, which the Fat Controller praised momentarily, said man climbed out from James’ cab with the help of his two assistants. Once he was on the ground, safe and sound, the Fat Controller walked up to Edward. “Good morning, Edward. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feelin’ fine, sir,” Edward replied, giving his full attention to his owner.

“No pain?” he inquired further.

“No’ anymore, sir.”

The Fat Controller let out a heavy sigh. “Thank goodness, Edward. You gave us a bit of a fright there.”

“Well, I’m alricht noo, sir,” Edward reassured before peering over at James, who was simply smiling and observing the interaction. “I never did thank ye yesterday. Thank ye for bringin’ me here, James.”

The vain iron horse puffed up with pride, but his cheeks burning didn’t go unnoticed by anyone present. “It’s the very least a splendid engine like me could do!”

Edward chuckled softly before returning his attention to the Fat Controller. “The others oan ma line ur’nae dealing with more than wit’ they can, ur they?”

It was the Fat Controller’s turn to laugh. “Oh, don’t worry about it. They’re doing just fine. Ryan’s covering your passenger duties and I’ve put Donald there to do his work while you’re gone.”

A sigh of relief left him. “Thon’s guid.”

“You just rest, old friend,” reassured the Fat Controller as he patted Edward’s left buffer. “You’ll be back in service in no time. Let’s just hope we don’t run into delays this time. We don’t need another- ahem- incident to happen again.” He emphasized as he looked over to Victor and Kevin, who had approached the three moments prior.

Both James and Edward looked at the pair in confusion as Kevin chuckled nervously and Victor laughed with a warm smile directed to his co-worker. “Let’s just say that Kevin’s learned about the snow,” suggested Victor.

“Snow really is trouble!” chirped Kevin with a shudder, convinced by the incident that took place last year.

“I would like a word with both of you,” prompted the Fat Controller. “Preferably somewhere else.”

“Oh, of course sir!” agreed Victor as he led the Fat Controller and Kevin to another area of the workshop.

That left Edward and James alone.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked James quickly before the silence established itself between the pair.

“Positive,” replied Edward. “I assume ye’ve told the others?”

“I panicked!” huffed James in defense. “It’s just odd, that you’re not there Saturdays and nothing’s said about it.”

“Ma-”

“Don’t,” interjected James. “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that your piston rod broke off yesterday. You couldn’t have known, so don’t argue with me about it.”

Edward just stared at James, starting to focus intensely on said engine, before saying anything. "Mmm… Are they doing okay?”

“Are they doing okay?” repeated the vain red engine, to which Edward shot a quizzical look. “Jeez, Edward. You’re asking about the others yet you’re the one injured,” he lightly chastised with good intention.

“Ye’ve seen how Thomas, Emily, and Percy get,” reminded Edward. “I dinnae want tae distract them frae their work.” Edward paused for a moment. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. Was I scared yesterday? Yes. But I’m feeling fine now,” James insisted.

“You almost fell into the turntable this morning,” his fireman, George, whispered hastily, loud enough for both engines to hear.

“The turntable?” inquired Edward worriedly, unintentionally raising his voice.

“He didn’t need that!” hissed James before he sighed in defeat. “I… wasn’t paying attention, but I’m fine!”

“Thank goodness nothin’ happenit!”

James huffed before laughing. “Look at you. Worrying about others when you’re the one sitting in the Steamworks waiting for repairs.”

“I-!”

“It’s what makes you a great friend,” reassured James. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

If Edward’s fire had been lit, the smaller engine would’ve been burning and wheeshing about. He was about to speak when the Fat Controller’s voice boomed from the nearby. “Alright, James. Time to go!” he announced as he approached the bright red tender engine. Once he and his assistants climbed into James’ cab, James reversed. “Let’s hope that piston rod comes in sooner rather than later, Edward. Good day!”

“G-Guid-bye, sir!” Edward managed to squeak out. “Guid-bye, James!”

“Goodbye, Edward! See you around!” James hollered as he left the Steamworks.

Edward stared off into the distance, once again watching the larger scarlet engine rush away before disappearing from his view. It was then he took notice of his shakiness. It wasn’t noticeable from what he could tell as nobody had said anything. Why am I shaking? he pondered before his brow furrowed, eyes following in the direction his close friend had gone. It can’t be because of James just being here, is it? Maybe I’m just nervous, but whatever for?

His mind tried pushing away the thought that it was James’ presence setting it off, but it came right back. It worsened his state of mind as he began to worry about how he might act the next time he came across the splendid red engine.

What if James notices and it makes him uncomfortable? To the point where he may not want to be around anymore?

With a deep breath, Edward let out a sigh, recollecting his thoughts before he went off the deep end. I have plenty of time to think things through, just like Victor said, he thought. I have time.

~

ka-chow

Ok, my bs aside! Literally smiling so fucking big rn. Mentally squealing, giggling, and kicking my fic. God, I love these mfs so much. AUGH-!

Edward's piston popping was inspired by the episode "Surprise, Surprise!" so go put the blame of Edward's pain on that thing. Sad that this screenshot is the only decent shot we get of these two in snowploughs :(

Had a sudden spur of ideas for this fic so I sat myself down and JUST WROTE. Went back and edited once my mind calmed down as i had my beta readers go over it. again, ty you both.

If it's the cheesiest shit you've ever read, then i've won. /j

Gonna be honest for a few seconds. I kept cringing as I wrote this, and not for a bad reason. This is my first fic dealing with the "catching feelings" trope. I've written fics (99% of which were never published) dealing with romance before but it only explored the "after getting together" period. Even then, it was very little of what i wrote.

Hope you enjoyed this fic! Thank you so much for reading. Comments, reblogs, and kudos are appreciated. 💙

#my writing #engines of sudrian rails (shipverse) by muxse #ttte shipping #ttte edward #ttte james #ttte edward x james #a dozen years #ttte victor #ttte fic #ttte #ttte au #ttte 2x5

[electricfied-wolf]

I think we need to switch around the dynamics and make pre and post 2018 characters interact more. Have Greaseball with Opal. Make Cabs (the brake van) meet Poppa. Eledtra with Purse and Krupp rather than Electra. There is so much potential.

#starlight express #stex #there's also the option of mixing in pre-2018 characters that were used less #add Duvay to the coaches lineup. Pack the freight full of hip hoppers. add that fourth rocky while we're at it. #sky is the limit!! there are so many trains in the world!!

[writinglittlebeasts]

i haven't posted anything substantial in a while, so have this . animal death warning also

It happens too quickly for Ramsey to wonder exactly how, but, later, when his insomnia keeps him glancing above the surface of sleep he'll wonder if it was the rain or the radio or the violent shivering of the grasses by the roadside that had kept any one of them from noticing it.

Creed is too impatient to slow his truck to a crawl even in the heaviest downpour, even when the tailgate of Maurice's junker disappears into the gloom and its taillights are dampened to dull blooms in the scant feet between both vehicles. If Maurice slows to examine a turn-off or a pothole Creed will lean on the horn like his life depends on keeping up a consistent forty miles-per-hour. The same principle applies to Ramsey, bringing up the rear in another truck long past its prime; experience tells him that if he should stop to get his bearings wind nor rain will keep Creed from climbing down out of his cab and stalking back the way he'd come to knock some gumption into him. It just so happens that Ramsey is more exhausted than he is afraid of peeling out into a ditch at the moment, and he knows that dying in a wreck would still be easier than arguing with the old man.

The ceaseless hollow metal clatter of the rain on the truck's tin roof is grating on his nerves, itching the backs of his eyes and making the muscles in his hands jump over the steering wheel. Every bump in the road adds to that edgy feeling, because surely this is going to be the one that sends him skidding into oblivion. On the dashboard, the radio struggles through a slow rendition of Ain't No Mountain High Enough as it's intercut by jolts of static; he can't summon the will to pry his hand from the wheel to turn it off, so Ramsey makes himself content with the geriatric warble: No matter how far-- worry, baby-- have to worry.

Creed's truck comes to a full stop in front of him so suddenly that Ramsey barely notices the change in time to pump his own brakes. There are only inches between the bumpers, and in the intervening seconds Ramsey waits for the horn with bated breath. No river wide enough to--

The horn never comes. Ramsey jerks the door handle and kicks it wide open, and rain starts to pour into the cab by the sheet. He's soaked in seconds, the downpour cold through his clothes, and he pulls his cap low over his eyes– for all of the good that it does him –as he leverages himself to the ground.

--day I set you free--

He slams the door shut behind himself when he goes, and the sounds of the idling engine and the sputtering radio disappear.

Ramsey follows alongside the flank of Creed's truck as quickly as he dares. Without his headlights he can't see a damned thing, and the embankment on the road's either side is shallow but earthy; he's liable to break a leg if he slips, and he'll never hear the end of it-- if he isn't swallowed up by the billowing switchgrass and drowned in a puddle.

"Creed!" Ramsey calls out, and he loses his own voice in the rain. His father's driver-side door is shut and the cab is dark; he isn't inside. He carries on, his feet wet in his shoes and his damp hat turning his scalp to ice. The same frost settles over his back and the rain trails miserably down his bare arms. While he crosses the gap between Creed's truck and Maurice's van he extends one cold hand and his fingertips catch briefly on a patch of rust marring Maurice's back hatch. "Creed!"

"Ramsey!"

Now he can see the shadow of a man in the headlights in front of him, seeming to loom over the hood of the van. Ramsey feels just a bit of the tension in his body fade as he realizes that Creed isn't holding a gun; that there isn't any immediate danger.

Ramsey rounds the van at the same time that Maurice appears on its passenger side holding a large flashlight, which cuts through the gloom more decisively than the headlights and finally illuminates Creed's critical frown.

Ramsey shakes his head and water flies from the bill of his cap. He shouts to be heard above the rain:

"What's wrong with the van?"

Creed's brow pops. He doesn't acknowledge Ramsey otherwise.

Maurice swings the beam of his flashlight from the wild, rolling fields to the hood of his van.

In a deep vee of crumpled metal that stretches from the roof to the hood, amidst a torrent of water and a spider’s web of cracked glass, is a hefty whitetail buck. Its limbs and neck are bent, splayed away from its shuddering exposed belly, and it shivers from end to end with the last vestiges of life.

The windshield pries itself apart from the roof as they watch, sinking into the cab and bringing the water with it, gravity pulling the body of the buck down while it struggles.

"Shit," Maurice rakes his free hand through his hair.

Ramsey casts his eyes on the bumper and finds it intact.

Creed's elbow jostles Ramsey out of his thoughts, and as he moves to take the buck by the horns Ramsey does the same. It's a labor, and even under all of this rain Ramsey can feel sweat breaking out along his back while they pull the beast from the van. The windshield fails entirely when the buck starts to thrash, and the damage to the shell of the van is extensive, but finally it slips from the hood and onto the road, where its body falls out of sight.

The van is pushed onto the roadside into that sea of switchgrass, and Maurice climbs into Creed's passenger seat before they all carry on at just the same speed as before. Ramsey focuses steadfastly on his driving as the collision disappears in his rearview, but later he'll think: deer don't collide with trucks from above. In that field, and maybe a breath from his own nose, there had been something capable of throwing one.

#or #dd

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 29-Fiery Sky:By His Light

Day 29: Fiery Sky

Other Stories

By His Light

Duncan raced down the tracks, blasting steam to try and clear the air around him. It did no good, the smoke hardly seemed to move. Every breath was a struggle, his crew coughing in the cab, but still he plunged on.

The fire around him raged, the rails behind him starting to glow from the heat.

He desperately searched ahead for the junction, but he could hardly see the rails before him. The coaches were trying to reassure the children within, but they were struggling to speak without coughing.

All he could see was the flames and the smoke, even the sky obscured by the inferno.

He whistled, but no one answered. 'Bloody tourists.' He swore in his mind, 'dinnae they not read the warnings? Now look at it.'

Warden fell was capped with flames, a careless camper hadn't put out their fire before falling asleep. Now the entire mountain side was up in flames and them along with it.

The Skarloey railway had rallied. Every engine had grabbed anything that could hold people. Trucks, coaches, vans, flatbeds were all loaded with people and raced down the line towards Crovan's Gate, where the North Western engines waited with long lines of coaches. They had been almost done when they had received word of a school trip stranded on the mountain side.

Duncan, freshly returned with empty coaches, raced off as fast as he could, beating the fire to the children. But it seemed they were too late.

The fire roared down the mountain side, chasing them, cornering them like a fox before the hounds.

First his fireman collapsed, then minute later his driver, overwhelmed by the smoke and heat. The regulator, still clasped in his hand, was pulled shut. Duncan slowed to a stop.

"Help us please!" He whistled/screamed. But no one answered, and the fire krept ever closer.

"No." He snarled and pushed. Within his cab he felt the regulatory slowly force itself open. Puff. He pushed again. Puff.

Slowly they began to move again, wheel turn by wheel turn. But they were still lost. If they missed the junction, they would be sent back up the mountain. Back into the flame.

PeeeEeeeeEeep

Duncan almost froze. He knew that whistle, but they were no were near the old iron bridge. Nonetheless, a familiar shape formed from the smoke before him.

The sound of puffing echoed through the smoke before him, a shrill whistle screamed out, seeming to tear through the smoke.

PEEEeeeeEeeeEEEPPP

Duncan was trembling but the whimpers from within the coaches saw him plunge forth, ghost or no.

The spirit of the old bridge seemed to approve. A bright beam of light shot from its lamp. Cutting through the smoke like a javelin. It whistled again, running off down the line. Duncan followed.

The clink of changing points was heard and the ghost engine swerved. Duncan raced after it, only the light visible through the smoke. He couldn't make out the tracks beneath him, but they didn't feel like any he remembered. They were old, and felt like they would split at any second.

The rails slanted steeply down, and often curved sharply, but he couldn't slow down, lest the flames catch them.

Finally the smoke began to thin, trees coming into view around him. The heat began to dissipate, but the spirit charged on. Duncan couldn't have stopped if he wanted. He was far too tired to force his regulator shut. They burst through the treeline by the lake, the spirit whistling triumphantly. 

To their left Duke and Skarloey gaped from the platform, before Duke charged forth with a will. The spirit collapsed, as if blown away by the wind. Duncan could barely see, his vision long blurred from the smoke and tears. He only noticed Duke when the old engine shot ahead of him just before their lines joined. Braking hard, Duke slowly brought them to a stop, his fireman running back to shut Duncan's regulator, and check on his crew, who were beginning to come round.

"Duncan! Thank heavens! What were you doing on that abandoned line?" Skarloey pulled alongside.

Duncan was too exhausted to answer.

"He was led there." Duke said quietly.

"By who?"

"An old friend." Duke said simply. "One lost long ago.

Skarloey hesitated, then nodded, pulling forward with a whistle. 

Duke sat waiting for the medics to check over Duncan and his passengers before he took them to Crovan's Gate.

"Proteus..." He whispered. Over the distant roaring fire, a shrill whistle could be barely heard over the wind. He smiled, "Thank you old friend."

The guard waved and he pulled away, leaving the blazing mountain behind.

#ttte #ttte fanfic #RWS #rws fanfic #ttte duncan #ttte proteus #ttte duke #ttte skarloey #skarloey railway #hazel is evil #Hazel gives her beta trauma #Hazel may have been singing Hellfire while writing this #traintober #traintober22 #traintober2022 #traintober 2022 #ghost train #Ghost Engine #engines that go bump in the night

[theflyingkipper]

A part I cut from December 1935 that I decided to refurbish

~~

“The Kipper is due,” the driver glowered at the fireman tightroping the rail.

“It’s not coming anytime soon, is it?” Kirk the fireman held his arms out, cup of cocoa in one hand, “Signalman said the rails are iced over.”

Morris, the guard, sighed. “In this weather, it ought to come near an hour late. Visibility is shite. Couldn’t see the kipper coming if it smacked us across the arse.”

“What I was going to say was, the last signal before Killdane is set to red, they’ll stop long before here,” Kirk interjected. He sipped his cocoa, still standing on the rail as if it were a balance beam. Kirk was a strange little man.

“Then why the hell are we stopped in a siding? We could be far ahead of the kipper at the rate we were going!” The driver snapped.

“The Kipper’s got perishables, it takes priority over the steel and lumber-“

“Christ’s sake Morris, its freezing! I reckon Father Christmas and his reindeer are getting frostbite. I don’t think some crates of herring are going to spoil if the train’s a few seconds late,” complained the driver, pulling his scarf tighter.

Morris was glad he didn’t ride in the cab with the driver. “Kirk, how do you stand this ninny?” He muttered to himself. Morris stopped in his tracks.

“Kirk?”

Kirk was far behind them, but still visible, and still standing on the rail.

“That wind. It’s like the devils fingers on my back…” groaned the driver.

“Kirk.”

Kirk looked down at his foot quizzically. He lifted it up, then placed it back down on the rail. He did it twice before turning around, and touching the rail that the goods train was on. Morris made about half the distance, shining his lamp at Kirk.

“Kirk, what the bloody hell are you doing?”

“Playin’ the hokey pokey on the rails… crazy bastard…”

Kirk murmured something, but whatever he said was interrupted by a steadily approaching shrill whistle and the sound of grinding iron.

There was much shouting as the three railwaymen hightailed off the line, The Flying Kipper screaming toward them.

Uncomfortably close to the driver, fireman, and guard, the engine squashed the brake van as if it were made of straw, and trucks screeched as they were first pushed into a great zig-zag, and then scattered. The engine derailed, tilting sideways, ripping up sleepers and points on its buffer beam. It heaved, and then finally came to a stop. The headlamps were still on, half plastered with snow, as if they were squinting from the impact.

The guard, who’d fallen onto his hands and knees in the snow, took a moment to pick himself up. “James?” He said breathlessly.

“I’m alright,” The driver was visibly shaken, but his tone was brazen.

“Kirk?”

“….I spilled my cocoa.” came the fireman’s reply.

#and here we have hot cocoa guy being the best human ttte character #hes the prime example of a crazy sudrian XD #I cut this because it felt too comedic for the dark tone dec 1935 maintains #I picked this up while I was in a writing mood and thought #maybe someone here will like this #ttte #thomas the tank engine #ttte fic #ttte fanfic #the flying kipper #ttte hot cocoa fireman #ttte oc #ttte james #<- I like the idea of the train henry crashes into being james goods train

[hellcab]

@twistedblitz

Roth was distracted. This was not rare, as his concentration tends to wander. He was bored, after all. He browsed through his phone, reading his social media. Voxtagram can be so addicting.

There was however, one small problem. He was behind the wheel of his large automobile. So far, the cab cruised down the road without incident. That being said, Roth was aware of this risk. Glancing up from his phone, he would check ahead. The road was clear mostly. He can multitask between his phone and driving. Or so he thinks.

I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?

Suddenly, the worst did happen. Glancing up, Roth’s eyes widened with shock and panic. There, coming closer and closer, was another vehicle. An ugly gray van, that was stopped at the red light ahead.

Dropping his phone, Roth stepped on the brakes. The Gehenna Cab slowed but still made impact with the van. The cab bumped into the van’s rear with some force. It could have been worse, but there was some damage. The bumper of the Gehenna Cab was messed up. The van likewise suffered some damage. Roth sat there in complete silence. He was screwed. Mikhal will have his head for this incident. Unless . . . he played the victim of this accident.

Roth started his performance. Acting “pained” and “dizzy”, Roth stumbled out from his cab. Grabbing his neck, Roth hammed up his performance. He waited for the other driver.

#twistedblitz. #RP.

[jayde-jots]

My favorite YouTuber is back and with a bang for the spooky season! Good on ya Victor for capturing me in to these stories already! Okay but seriously I've already been doing an analysis on the one video and I'm about to spill my thoughts, spoiler warning! More under the cut.

The first guy who died in the cave was a guy named Rocky, keep a pin in this because we're going to come back to it. This man died in the cave in 1957, then the SCP foundation show up. A man by the name of Dr. Pierce seems to be the manager of the study on the cave. Next guy to go in as a test subject is someone who I'll refer to as prisoner 1, or P1. This guy sounded to have a welsh accent like Duck, and was referred to as D7426 by Dr. Peirce and I've been trying to recall back to any of the other faced machines that were built after 1957. This also has another pin in it, we're coming back to it as well. After P1 dies in the cave a spirit/soul is seen leaving it, this spirit/soul was Alexander Jeffries, the late station master of Elsbridge who had passed away years prior at his own workplace. He was revived right down to his living flesh and bone. Toby was the first person to come across him and assumed at first he was a ghost, at first Jefferies didn't realize he was alive again until Toby brought it up. He had an interesting reaction that was eerily similar to this one-

From 23:00 to 24:00 Brian had the same freak out that Jeffries did, if the brake van had been human I'm sure he would of had a heart attack as well. And he had the exact same story to tell, he remembered dying to the blitz on London but is miraculously still alive as the ending of the episode spotlights on. Now we start getting to the good bit, this is another pin I'll ask you to remember. Prisoner 2 or P2 was referred to as D5702 by Dr. Percie, but it was revealed his name was Bobby Cooper. P2 went into the cave and perished and another soul left, we unfortunately did not see who it belonged to. 3 more prisoners are sent into the cave. P3 went in and we did not see who the soul was that left the cave, P4 did not go into the cave and when they tried to run back they were shot and killed, P5 went in and again we did not see who the soul was that left the cave. In 1958 we see a familiar face with a familiar number. Boco with the number D5702 on his cab side, and a familiar voice to match P2s. The foundation interviews him and it is revealed that Boco is a nickname for Bobby Cooper, this confirming the revenant theory that has been mentioned a few times in the series by now. Afterwards with this revelation the foundation continued experiments for a while before they had to stop since they couldn't track the souls that were leaving the cave. We have no clue how many more were killed and how many more revived souls are on Sodor, and that's just with the foundation. It has been said that many people have gone up hiking to the top of Culldee Fell and have never returned, even after it was made illegal to do so. At the end of the episode we see an imposing-looking man hike to the top of the mountain despite the fines and enter the cave. He perishes and another soul escapes. This soul is seen to be the spiteful brake van Dominick who was found by none other than Douglas. I have a personal theory that the last man we saw enter was the man who will become Diesel 10, or as he's named in this series, Joshua or Josh. The year the foundation seemed to leave was 1958, and the class 42 that Diesel 10 was modeled after was built from 1958 to 1961. So it is plausable. And the first man Rocky is also the name of a ttte character we see, Rocky the breakdown crane. I'm wondering if we might see him someday. But on another note, we have 3 unaccounted for free souls that have been revived along with the other souls from off-screen, I'd like to think that any of these could be Colin, Lily, Adam, Alfred or maybe even Mr. Star. But I doubt it as Edward would have probably mentioned it by the end. So we have a confirmation that every living person that goes into the cave becomes reincarnated, and every soul we see leave revives someone from the dead. And this was only the first episode! I'm so excited to see more!

#Youtube #victor tanzig #ttte #the scps of sodor

[rygoespop]

Thomas and Friends: Tales from Sodor (Story 3): Stanley and Ryan

Narrator: Stanley and Ryan

Stanley, puffing down the line as he pulled 5 Cattle Cars

Narrator: Stanley is a Silver Tank Engine, he's got a similar to built like Thomas, when he first came to the island, he helped out on Sodor Day

Flashback cuts to The Great Discovery, as the scene transitions to Ryan, pulling 2 Red Branchline Coaches

Narrator: And Ryan is a Purple Tank Engine, he looks like Thomas, except he's got 8 Small Wheels, when he first came to the Island, he helped worked on the expansion to Harwick

Flashback cuts to Sodor's Legends of The Lost Treasure, as the scenes transitions to Ryan arriving at Great Waterton

Narrator: One morning, Ryan puffed into Great Waterton

Ryan: *sees Stanley* Oh, hello Stanley!

Stanley: Hello Ryan! I see your picking up passengers today.

Ryan: Yes, I am! I'm filling in for Daisy while she is at The Dieselworks

Stanley: Well, that's a surprise! Where are you off to next?

Ryan: Oh, I'm taking the Passengers to Knapford next, got to go! Bye Stanley! *he whistles as he puffs off to Knapford*

Scene transitions to Ryan arriving at Knapford Station

Narrator: Later that afternoon, Ryan arrived at Knapford, and Sir Topham Hatt was waiting for him

Sir Topham Hatt: Aaaaaah, Ryan! Right on time! Now, I need you to take a special goods train from Brendam Docks to Vicarstown

Ryan: You can count on me sir! *he whistles as he puffs off to Brendam Docks*

Scene transitions to Brendam Docks, as Ryan arrived

Narrator: Later, Ryan arrived at Brendam Docks, and the Special Goods Train was waiting

Salty: Ahoy Ryan, I see your here to take the Special Goods Train to Vicarstown

Ryan: Why, yes I am, Salty!

Porter: We got them arranged

The Special Goods Train consists of a Mail Van, 3 Trucks filled with Milk Churns, 4 Cattle Cars, 5 Coal Cars, and 2 Tar Tankers

Ryan: I'll get them to Vicarstown as fast as I could

Just then, Stanley puffed in to Brendam Docks

Stanley: Oh, hello Ryan! I see your taking the Special Goods Train as well

Ryan: Yes, I am!

Stanley: Well, I'm helping out as well! Sir Topham Hatt told me to help out with you, since that Goods Train could be heavy for one engine

Ryan: Good point Stanley

Scene transitions to Ryan buffering up to the mail van, and Stanley buffering up to the Brake Van

Narrator: Soon, Ryan and Stanley set off to Vicarstown, with Ryan pulling and Stanley as the Backer Engine

Ryan: Well, might as well be on our way! Bye Salty, bye Porter!

Salty: Take care me harties *he honks his horn as Porter blew his whistle*

Ryan and Stanley blew their whistles and they headed off to Vicarstown

Stanley: Vicarstown, here we come!

Scene transitions to Ryan and Stanley, pulling and pushing the Goods Train through the countryside

Narrator: As soon as the two friends are out of the Docks, Ryan and Stanley race to Vicarstown through the Countryside

Ryan: So Stanely, how long have you been part of the Railway?

Stanley: Since Sodor Day, back when Thomas found Great Waterton

Ryan: Oh! I think he told me that story before

Stanley: Really?

Ryan: Yeah!

The 2 Friends puff further through the Countryside, as the scene transitions to them on Gordon's Hill

Narrator: As Ryan and Stanley reached to Gordon's Hill, the load was heavy

Ryan: *struggling* This load, is very heavy

Stanley: *struggling as he pushed* We must not give up!

Stanley pushes the Goods Train up Gordon's Hill, and thus, Ryan and Stanley made it to the top

Narrator: Then there was trouble, due to Stanley pushing the Goods Train up Gordon's Hill, he cracked a cylinder

Inside Stanley's cab, a cylinder broke, causing Stanley to grind to a halt

Stanley: Oh my..

Ryan: *worried* Stanley what's wrong?!

Stanley: I have broken a Cylinder, I can't push further

Ryan: *determined* We must not give up Stanley! I'll pull you! Let's make it to the end!

Stanley: Right!

Ryan whistles as he pulls the Goods Train and Stanley

Narrator: With determination, Ryan pulled the Goods Train and Stanley, all the way to Vicarstown

Scene transitions to Ryan and Stanley, arriving at Vicarstown, Ryan whistles Hello to Caitlin as she races and whistles back

Ryan: *tried but triumphant* Here we are!

Murdoch: Thank you Ryan and Stanley! I'll take it from here, because this Goods Train is going to the Mainland

Scene transitions to Murdoch backing up to the Goods Train and taking it to The Mainland

Narrator: As soon as Murdoch took the Special Goods Train to The Mainland, Sir Topham Hatt arrived

Sir Topham Hatt: Outstanding Ryan, you really are useful! You too, Stanley!

Ryan: Thank you Sir!

Stanley: Thank you sir

Sir Topham Hatt: Also, I'm sending you Stanley to the Steamworks, so your cylinder can be fixed! Ryan, can you take him to the Steamworks?

Ryan: Yes sir! *he whistles as he buffered up to Stanley*

Stanley: Thank you Ryan, your a Good Friend

Ryan: Your welcome Stanley

Ryan began to take Stanley to the Steamworks

Steam Clouds rolled in

Story end

#thomas and friends

[wonderful-magician]

The Red Caboose and Brake Van!

Why is cabs called the red Caboose when he's blue/purple wh also like aren't caboose and brake vans different things i-

Anyway I love these two a lot so enjoy them :]

finally done with the freight GghH

#stex #starlight express #stex caboose #stex bv #stex cabs #cb the red caboose #cabs the brake van #bv the brake van

[gb-diesellok]

New changes in the show? means I steal the Brake Van from Eledtra?

Cabs darlin'... as a brake van..you'll be great for me to lift your weighted frame and work out. You'll love it with me...

#starlight express #stex #cabs the brake van #stex cabs

[finleyforevermore]

2023's StEx Appreciation Month!

Day 18: Cabs the Brake Van

Tom Nhill in the first and third pictures, Jamie Sidhom in the second picture, and Kai Cameron Jay in the fourth picture.

Ahhh, Cabsy-Cabs....how I despised him when I first joined the fandom. I like to think I've come around, though! ^^

Favorite Actor: Gary Sheridan (Bochum update, 2018-2022, understudy) and Terence Uphoff (Bochum update, 2019-2022, understudy)

Face Claim/Voice Claim: Jamie Sidhom (face) and Terence Uphoff (voice)

Favorite Song/Scene: Wide Smile

Favorite Costume: The one he has isn't terrible!

Favorite Ship: Without a doubt: CANARRIE!!! (Cabs x Carrie)

Headcanon: He loves to spin around. Can be any place at any time, he just really likes to spin.

Unpopular Opinion: I don't hate him!

#starlight express #stex #starex #stex appreciation month #stex appreciation month 2023 #cabs the brake van #stex brake van #stex cabs #cabs stex #stex red caboose #bv the brake van #stex caboose #caboose stex #red caboose #carrie the luggage van #canarrie #carrie stex #carriebee #stex carrie #queued

[collinthenychudson]

Day 25: The Polar Express

Merry Christmas!

Info from The Polar Express Wiki, I've already gone over the story from last year. This one is mainly covering the info of the locomotive

The Polar Express is the titular magical 2-8-4 wheel configured American Berkshire type steam locomotive that transports children to the North Pole on Christmas Eve. The locomotive pulls five passenger cars (however, some scenes show the train with more or less), including an abandoned toy car at the front and an observation car at the back.

The train makes two stops in Grand Rapids, Michigan to pick up Hero Boy and Billy the Lonely Boy respectively. Later in the film, Smokey and Steamer, the locomotive's fireman and engineer, have to fix the light, so Hero Girl is put in charge of driving. Suddenly, Smokey and Steamer see something ahead on the track and call out to Hero Girl to stop the train, but she and Hero Boy have trouble figuring out which lever applies the brakes. Eventually, Hero Boy applies the brakes and the train stops just before it crashes into a huge herd of Caribou.

After the caribou get out of the way, Smokey and Steamer get back to the cab of the locomotive and get the train on its way again. However, Steamer finds the throttle is jammed due to a loose pin, causing the train to accelerate uncontrollably. Because of this, the Conductor ties Hero Boy and Hero Girl to the safety bar at the front of the locomotive to prevent them from falling off as they go down Glacier Gulch. The pin falls out and into an air vent, but comes out when the train goes down the gulch. Steamer manages to catch it with his mouth, only to swallow it by accident. When the train ends up on the Ice Lake, Smokey manages to get the pin out of Steamer's stomach by hitting his back with a shovel, but it works too well as the pin flies out of the locomotive and lands on the ice, causing it to crack. The train crashes through an iceberg and leans sideways. Smokey eventually decides to use the pin from his hair to fix the throttle and Steamer is able to control the speed again. Everyone soon notices the cracking ice, so Smokey and Steamer try to get the train back on the tracks with the Conductor navigating and succeed.

The Conductor, Hero Boy, and Hero Girl later climb along the locomotive to get back to the passenger cars.

The Polar Express in the film is based on the Pere Marquette 1225, a 1941 Berkshire N-1 class 2-8-4 locomotive built at the Lima Locomotive Works. The locomotive's design was used in the film, as well as its sounds, with the exception of its whistle, which came from Sierra Railway No. 3. Drawings of the locomotive were used to create the 3D model. Chris Van Allsburg chose this design because he used to play on the locomotive while attending games at the Spartan Stadium in East Lansing, Michigan, where it was placed on static display at the time.

Today, the 1225 is housed in Owosso, Michigan and is operated and maintained by the Steam Railroading Institute. The 1225 frequently hauls passenger excursions in Michigan throughout the year, including the world-famous North Pole Express trips throughout the months of November and December.

In both the original book and the film adaptation, the Polar Express is painted black along with its tender. Its tender in the film also has the words "Polar Express" in white on both sides, something which is not in the book.

In some merchandise, the words on the tender are yellow instead of white. The locomotive is also often depicted with the number 1225, always in the same color as the words on the tender, under its side cab windows, like Pere Marquette 1225, but no number appears in neither the book nor the film.

Models and Route by: K&L Trainz, Auran, and Download Station

#Polar Express #The Polar Express #Pol Ex #Steam Locomotive #Trains #Trainz Simulator #Advent Calendar #Christmas #Christmas 2022 🎄🎅🎁

[globaloscillations]

This the end, my friend, the end.

Todays the day. We are homeward bound later this evening as I type this we're on one final trip to Pret. First though a little about our time in London. The goal of this trip was to make good on our long time goal of the "not London trip" and if nothing else on this trip with the car we saw a lot of it that was definitively not London. However since it's been a number of years since we've been over and it's hard to take things for granted these days we decided to just do a quick day 2 days or so in London.

We drove down from Liverpool on Friday morning and turned in the Peugeot. Honestly we were both a little emotional and as I said in a tweet I found myself relating to Mark Watney in The Martian when he powers down the rover for the final time. Never had a connection to a rental car before. Avis was the usual no fuss service and had the car checked back in quickly. With the trains on strike we couldn't take Heathrow Express as planned so we had to take a cab all the way into the city. To say it was a miserable ride pushes the limits of the word miserable. Between the breakneck speed, bouncing around in the back of the van, slamming the brake and gas alternately I'm honestly a little 🤢 just thinking about it. An auspicious start perhaps.

We arrived at what would prove to be our ironically named hotel the Sanctuary House around 2pm or so to learn they had no power. We stood around for a bit wondering what to do with that and the utility guy came over to inform the manager that there was little hope of the power coming back on and they had a generator on the way. We hulked our bags up to the floor the office was on and they locked them up for us. It was a little tense but we decided to walk up to Covent Garden for some food and it was near the theater we'd be seeing a show at in the evening. It was a bit of a walk but neither of us had the desire to to get back in a cab. We ended up having a decent meal at one of resuruants on the lower level of Covent Garden. By then we were about thirty minutes to the show doors opening so we kind of wandered a bit. I spotted an alley and sure enough there was a little hidden pub. The hiddenish pubs are one of my favorite things about London and this one, The Nell Gwyne, was no exception.

The main event for the evening was we had tickets to Back to the Future the Musical. We actually had tickets during the initial opening back in August of 2020 but COVID had other plans and we just didn't see travel being feasible at the time and felt it was unlikely we'd see it. This trip presented an opportunity so we decided to take it. I won't give a full review here but ultimately it was a fun time and staging was very impressive and the sing-along numbers to close things out were also a lot of fun.

Leaving the show was interesting with the tube strikes and all the theaters and pubs emptying. It was touch and go for a while but Kristen eventually scored us an Uber back to the hotel. Navigating London without the tube certainly limits options. I know it isn't great to comment on other country's politics but I do hope transit gets sorted for everyone's sake. We arrived back at our hotel to find a form of power on and a working lift so we headed up to our room on the third floor. The promised AC was not very functional and we settled in for what would be a miserably hot/humid night's sleepish.

We were awoken the next morning at 5 am to the sound of the woefully inadequate fan shutting off... another power cut. Kristen took charge, and I'm grateful for that and booked us into the hotel next door that looked modern and had power. We hauled our stuff down four liftless floors and walked next door. I think they could have been a little more accommodating but push as we might they were not interested in giving us a room before the check-in at 3pm.

Now effectively homeless we locked up our bags and headed out for another walk. Once the initial anger at the situation ebbed it was actually kind of nice to be out a little early and see a slightly calmer city. We walked around Westminster for a bit checking out some of the memorials and the place from Love Actually where Hugh Grant lived. 😉 We then made our way to Horse Guards to see the horses and check out the museum and watch the Saturday inspection. I give the horses and the solidiers credit as I definitely wouldn't have the patience for their gig!

After Horse Guards we headed over to Mayfair and did some shopping. Then we walked down to Hard Rock Cafe. As we were finishing up our waiter gave us a little history lesson. Apparently we had stumbled into 001 the original. We then went across the street to the vault and got an impressive tour through rock and roll history. I honestly thought it was just a chain restaurant but really there is legitimate rock and roll history associated with it. Very cool.

We headed back to the new hotel to get our room which was actually closer to a single than a double and reminded me of one of those pod hotels. The hotel weirdness on this trip continues. The shower was hot and functional so we cleaned up and hopped a cab up to the Victoria pier for the world's most chaotic sight seeing cruise. We were pretty sure we weren't on the right boat but no one ever quesioned it and we ended up back where we expected to be.

After disembarking at Westminster pier we walked up to the pub that sits opposite Big Ben, St. Stephens Tavern. Ever since my first trip to London back in 2012 I've made it a a tradition to have a pint there the final night of the trip and look up at the tower. Kristen has embraced the tradition with me. Because of the location it tends to be a bit of a global crossroads and I usually end up having some fascinating conversations. Last night was no different as we ended up talking for a good portion of the evening with a guy from Australia who was also finishing up his trip. Really cool lad and we enjoyed ourselves and learning about each other's countries and COVID lockdown experiences.

That pretty much leaves things here in the departure hall of Heathrow waiting for our gate assignment and looking forward to being home later today. Once I'm back and have had a minute I'll probably post some reflections on the trip and travel as a whole. If you've been following along...cheers! Follow me on Twitter @bethejustin and Instagram @itsbtj for happenings back in the states.