#ttte fanfic
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Valentine's break
A Short TTTE fanfiction - Valentine Special
They haven't dated in this timeline :3, I rarely write, so excuse my rookie mistakes.
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Edward puffed his cigarette, the night wind gently blowing on his hair as the stars above him shined.
The usual valentine's night for the K2.
As he took a long drag, memories flooded back: past loves, and heartaches. He stared off to the distance, aiming fault to himself for everything that had happened, guilt slowly creeping up, his mind going numb.
Valentine's Day was not his favorite, though he'd never openly admit it.
Abruptly, his thoughts were disrupted as a red coat cascaded down upon him, enveloping him in its warmth and vibrant hue. He looked up to a familiar face.
"Mind if I join?" James spoke softly, Edward blinked slowly almost dumbfounded "ah...sure?" he finally answered.
The red man sat beside him, drinking his water bottle "wasn't expecting to find you here" James leaned back, relaxing into the grass.
"Wasn't expecting anyone to find me" Edward smiled, feeling amused, "cigarette?" He handed the half-empty box, "good god no" James immediately refused, as stressful as he gets, he would never smoke nor drink, he wasn't raised that way.
Edward only smiled before looking away, James took notice of his demeanor, "you're not going out? It's valentine's day" he asked the K2.
Edward says as he exhales smoke, "I....I've had enough of Valentine's," an answer James wasn't expecting. "Why's that?" James asks, intrigued nonetheless. Edward sighed, his gaze drifting to the distant horizon.
The weight of past disappointments heavy on his heart. "Every Valentine's Day just reminds me of what I've lost," he confesses, his voice tinged with regret. James nods understandingly, silently acknowledging the pain concealed behind Edward's tough exterior.
"what if someone asked you out? Would you go?" James asked again, his eyes not moving away from the blue haired man.
"goodness they deserved better!" Edward sheepishly laugh "I don't expect anyone to ask me out, get a better standard I'd say"
his smile subsided before looking down to his knees "Love hurts" He inhaled deeply from his cigarette.
James looked at him, having been hurt from hearing the K2 talk about himself like that, "I think you're exceptional," James murmured softly, his gaze drifting upward to the somber sky above.
"You've made alot of impact on this railway, supporting countless engines," James remarked, taking a sip from his water bottle. "you're worth a-lot more than you give yourself credit for" he smiled.
Edward glanced at him, a spark of joy igniting within him, and he couldn't help but return the smile, though a blush colored his cheeks.
"Why aren't you going out for valentine?" Edward asked back, his mood eased as he lay down next to James.
"I have high standards!" James answered vainly, he smiled proudly at himself, Earning a laugh from the K2, his endearing laugh was not of ridicule, but of amusement.
James joined in,The atmosphere shifted, filled with warmth and tenderness as both decided to spend the rest of the night together, neither wanting to leave.
"Happy valentines day, Edward"
"Happy valentines day, James"
Maybe one day they'll actually celebrate valentine together.
#SHIKA HAVENT WRITE IN 3 YEARS YALL#did the drawing in 30 minutes too so sorry for low quality work#ttte#thomas and friends#ttte edward#thomas the tank engine#ttte humanized#ttte james#ttte fanart#ttte human au#digital art#ttte 2x5#life of a seagull#life of a seagull AU#ttte fanfic#ttte fandom#ttte fic#Author is dyslexic#happy valentine's day
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Ladies and gentlemen, the wonderful @asktrio516 a.k.a. @dilemmaart has drawn the midnight race scene for me from The Yellow Rose of Sodor!! She’s become a great friend of mine and she’s a fantastic artist and she deserves all the love in the world!! She’s brought Camille to life and my heart just soars looking at her and Gordon, who is actually @asktrio516’s own humanization of the express engine who inspired the whole fic! Literally, if it wasn’t for her humanization this fanfiction would never have existed! EVER! So, please a round of applause and praise for her!!
She even included his words to her before they went down Gordon’s Hill and that was such a pleasant surprise I almost cried. It’s so beautiful!
Thanks again dilemma! I’m so glad this fandom has brought us together!
💙💜💙💜💙💜💙💜💙💜💙💜💙💜
#ttte#ttte fanfic#ttte gordon#ttte humanized#ttte oc#asktrio516#ttte fanart#art from an artist#this is absolutely amazing and I’m going to be all giddy for days on end#send love to the artist#not my art#commission art#it’s beautiful#i can’t get over it
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Just a Bad Dream
Description: Henry has a bad dream about his being locked in the tunnel once again. Little did he know that he would get some advice from his new driver, Correlle, as well as an unexpected story.
Words: How the fuck should I know? I haven't been keeping track LOL (jk jk).
"We shall leave you here for always and always and always."
Those words spoken by the Fat Director echoed in Henry's smokebox as he slept restlessly. Every year on the anniversary of him being locked in the Ballahoo tunnel, Henry would often have the same wretched dreams of the incident.
Of course, Henry had learned his lesson. He learned it quite well to the point where he hated any reminder of it. He despised the long days he spent, locked away in that brick tunnel; All on his own without anyone to talk to. It nearly drove him mad. After being let out, he knew better to be vain about his paintwork. After all, that was James' shtick now; not his.
But every time he had that wretched dream, he was scared to death. He never wanted to be locked away like that again.
"No.... No, I don't want to be alone. Not again..." He thought as the Fat Director solemnly proclaimed those words. He would have moved from the tunnel in his dream, but he couldn't make himself do so. Year after year, he tried and tried to prove the "Fat Director" wrong; that he was willing to move; he was willing to leave the tunnel. But some force prevented him from doing it. No matter how much he begged and pleaded, he had to witness the same sight of workmen bricking him up in that god-forsaken tunnel. He would have had to do it again, if not for a sudden echo.
"Henry? Henry, you okay?" The voice sounded familiar, yet it didn't belong in his dream. "Henry?! Henry, wake up!!" At that, his eyes shot open and darted around until he saw his driver, Correlle, standing in front of him. She was already dressed for work, yet her hair was somewhat a mess, and she looked like she had just tumbled out of bed.
"C-correlle?" he asked, looking down at her in surprise, "What are you doing here?"
"I'm sleeping over, remember?" the young American reminded him, gesturing to the empty cot on the platform next to his berth, "We have the Kipper in a few hours."
"Oh…. right…" Henry blinked. He felt his eyes grow watery as he tried to keep his composure.
"Henry… what's wrong?" Correlle looked up at her engine worriedly, "You were shaking like a leaf." There was a brief silence that followed, as Henry was debating how to answer.
Correlle Hemsworth had only been working with Henry for about 2 months and she was still learning things about her new friend. That included his likes and dislikes. While she did poke fun at him from time to time, she knew when too far was too far. Even though she didn't know Henry as well as she would have liked, she could tell he was agitated. She knew from his fireman, Ted, that it took a while for Henry to open up to anyone new that entered his life.
"It's only early days," he had said, "and Henry doesn't open up to just anyone right away. He has to trust you first."
Correlle always remembered this, as she wanted to be a good driver that respected her engine's boundaries. While she didn't want to force him to open up, she also didn't want Henry to suffer whatever it was that was bothering him. At least on his own. After all, this was her first real time seeing Henry cry. It was heartbreaking, but she didn't say that aloud.
Henry himself seemed to recognize his new driver's genuine worry and did his best to compose himself. After all, if the other sleeping engines around him would never let him hear the end of it if they saw him like this, then how would his driver look at him?
"I'm alright…" He sighed as he took a deep breath. That didn't stop the tears from falling though.
"Henry… I'm not one to tell you how to feel, but you're definitely not alright." Correlle stated quietly, "I know that since I'm new, you don't trust me as much, but I still want to help you." At this, she placed a hand on one of his buffers. "Whatever is bothering you, I won't tell a soul. Not even if they cut my arms off." Henry was silent for a few minutes, mulling this over. That last part of her statement had been a bit brutal, but then again many Americans were, if they wanted to be.
One of the most important qualities that Sir Richard Hatt considered when it came to electing who drove what engine, is the capability of the driver to be there for their engine
"Encourage them to do good and discourage them to do bad; Be there for them in both good and bad times." He had proclaimed to the "Young Nor' Westers" on their first day of work.
While it may have been their first time learning it, Every engine on the North-Western Railway knew this philosophy was a given fact. Not only that, but it was a creed of sorts for the crews. Of course, it did take time for the engines to come to trust their crews, and Henry was no exception to this.
When he first met Correlle, she seemed nervous, as if she was tip-toeing around the engines she was learning to work with. It took time for her to shed her shyness and show her spunky, spirited nature. When she did, Henry found that he enjoyed it.
Not only that, but so far she had followed "the creed" to a T; She had encouraged and discouraged him on many different occasions, as well as spent many good times with him. Now she was passing the real test; being there for him when he was having a hard time with something. In this case, it was one of his personal demons.
Henry knew the genuineness of her words because he could see the sincerity in her eyes, even in the dark. Plus he knew Correlle wasn't the type to gossip. Sure she chattered and rambled like the troublesome trucks did at times, but she never spilled any secrets. Bearing all of this in mind, he took a deep breath before he spoke.
"Every year… there's this bad dream that haunts me." He admitted, looking upset, and a bit embarressed. "I don't know if you heard of this story, but years ago... my pride ended up with me being bricked up inside a tunnel."
"Oh… wait, you mean that little rhyme that Percy sometimes teases you with? The one about an engine being afraid of the rain and--"
"Yes, yes, that rhyme…" Henry quickly cut her short before he continued shakily, "Only in my case, that damn rhyme is a nightmare. And that same nightmare comes back every year. I'm in the Ballahoo Tunnel, just sitting there, with a line of coaches behind me. I've tried moving out of that damn tunnel, I truly have. Heavens knows I've tried. But something won't let me…" Henry looked down at his running board, seeing the two dots of water that just sat there, right beneath where his eyes would have been.
"Oh Henry…" Correlle looked sad as she climbed up and sat down next to his smokebox face. She often sat up next to him on her breaks, just dinking on her phone or just relaxing. Usually she had to take care because his boiler was hotter then fire itself. But now that his boiler was cool, she placed a hand on the outer black. The steel was cold as ice. So much so, she could almost feel what he was feeling; Scared and alone.
"I keep being told that I would be kept in the tunnel for always and always. Being stuck in there for a few weeks was hell enough, but… forever??" Henry looked petrified at the thought. "It's almost as bad as being scrapped… maybe even worse." Correlle listened quietly to everything he was saying. After a few minutes of thinking, she spoke up.
"Who was the one who told you that you would be stuck in that tunnel forever?"
"The Fat Director… He was the first one in charge of the NWR, back in the 1900s. He wasn't exactly a kind-natured man… He didn't even want me…"
"Why didn't he want you?"
"I wasn't the engine he ordered. When I came to this island, the Fat Director was angry. He claimed he wanted an Atlantic, but instead…"
"Instead he got you?"
"Yes." there was a brief pause before he continued, "I… I was a mistake." Henry looked ashamed as he said this, "I was an experimental engine. I was built with a very small firebox, so I couldn't be steamed properly. I half-expected the Fat Director to scrap me because of it." There were a few minutes of silence before Correlle spoke up again.
"Henry…. You're not a mistake." She said in a quiet yet firm tone.
"Well… of course you would say that. You're my driver."
"I'm not saying it as your driver. I'm saying it as your friend. You're not the one to be blamed for how you were built. You didn't even ask to be built; you just were. It's the same way with humans. I didn't ask to be born; I just was born. People can blame us for existing all they want, but it doesn't change the fact that we're still here. All of us here…. engine and humans alike, we're all misfits in one way or another."
"Misfits?"
"It's a word that means you're outwardly different in some way that makes society think you don't fit into it's norms."
"I see… is that a bad thing?"
"No way. Misfits can be wonderful people. Same with engines. They're just built in a way that people don't understand at first. Misfit as you are, you gave a lot and showed the railway that you deserve to be here. And no bad dream is going to change that." Correlle just gave an encouraging smile, "I think the Fat Director knew that too, even if he was the one who punished you to stay in that tunnel."
Henry thought a bit on that. It was true that the Fat Director had locked him in the tunnel, but he also was the one who let Henry out, even if it was a last resort. Plus, he did give Henry the fair chance he needed to do his best on the NWR by buying him Welsh Coal for his poor steaming, as well as sending him to Crewe after his accident with the Flying Kipper. So he couldn't say that the Fat Director didn't care about him. But it did raise the question.
"Then… why do I keep seeing him telling me that I would stay in the tunnel for always and always?" He asked slowly. Correlle was thoughtful for a few minutes before she answered.
"I think that moment was the time you saw the Fat Director at his worst. He was angry and he said words he couldn't take back. I don't know for certain, since I wasn't around when this happened, but it's my best guess on why. I do know that whenever we do see people at their worst, it's imprinted in our minds, whether we want it there or not."
"I see…" Henry sighed, "Times like this I wish I could forget that time ever existed. I wouldn't have that damn nightmare if I remembered."
"I guess it's a curse with engines. You're timeless machines. From the moment you were built, you remember everything. But… that's not to say you can't conquer your nightmare."
"But I've tried moving from the tunnel and I couldn't make myself move. So how else can I conquer my bad dream?" Correlle, once again, went silent at this, the wheels in her head turning until she snapped her fingers.
"Have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?"
"No. What is that?"
"It's where you can control what you do in your dreams. Most of the time, when we dream, we have little to no control over what we do. One example of that is sometimes I dream that I'm stuck on a snowy mountain and I can barely stand on my own two feet. But if you train your mind enough, you can be conscious enough to the point where you remember that you're stuck in a dream and you can do what you want."
"So… you suggest that I lucid dream?"
"Something like that. When you have the nightmare again, just take a deep breath and remember that you're dreaming. That you can do whatever you want and if you want to move from that tunnel, then you can. Remember that you have nothing holding you back, other then the obsticles you give yourself." Correlle patted the side of his boiler, giving him a small smile. Henry felt better at this idea.
"I'll remember this for the future." He said quietly.
"That's the Henry I know." Correlle beamed before she suddenly yawned. Henry couldn't help but smile a little at this.
"If you want to return to your cot, you can."
"Eh… I'm fine here. At least until you go to sleep again." Correlle just tiredly leaned against the side of his boiler. Henry could sense the exhaust in her voice, but it wasn't because of how tired she was or how late it was. It was something else. A brief period of silence hung in the air before Correlle spoke up again. "You know… I was debating on whether I should tell you this, but…"
"But?" the Green engine raised an eyebrow.
"I know how it feels… not being wanted." she smiled sadly as she looked at the hairband she had wrapped around her right wrist. "My case is probably not as bad as yours, but… before I came to Sodor, I grew up with my grandparents on their ranch in Colorado. My Dad was never in my life because… well… at first it was hard for him to be there, given that my mother had passed away when she gave birth to me. But when he started coming to see me more and more, he just… he didn't seem to like me for some reason."
"That's terrible…" Henry said quietly.
"I never knew what that reason was. Every time my Dad came to see me, he just… looked disappointed. I didn't know why at the time, and I always was hard on myself because of it. It didn't stop him from inserting himself in my life, even when it seemed like he didn't like me. I always thought that he had a hard time being near me because I might have reminded him of my mom. But later as I got older, I began to realize the reason was… well…" Correlle took a deep breath, holding tears of her own back, "I wasn't the daughter he wanted." Henry was aghast at this.
"What do you mean by that?" He managed to ask after a few minutes. He sounded breathless, as if he saw that his whole forest had been cut up just for the thrill of it.
"I mean just that. Just like you were the engine that the Fat Director didn't want at the time, I wasn't the daughter my Dad wanted. He tried hard to get me to be like him, but… I was just different. I didn't like the same things he did and to him, that wasn't enough. Unlike you, I wasn't really given a fair chance. After an accident I got into that was…. well, my Dad's fault, he just up and left. Like he just gave up. I thought that would be the end of it. Until…"
"Until?"
"He dragged me back into his life. Right before I turned 18 too. Then I came here to Sodor and joined the Railway here to get away from him." Correlle wiped her eyes of what tears she had, "I wasn't sure I would even make it to this point, or even do a good job. But in the process, I met someone who was just like me. At least in a few ways."
"I can attest to that." Henry smiled a bit, "Admittedly, I was a bit worried, as since you were younger then the drivers I had years prior, I thought things would turn sideways. But you're doing a wonderful job as my driver. You're likely the best I've had in a long while."
"Aww… thanks you." Correlle patted his boiler again, giving him a broad smile, "I was scared at first, given that I've never handled an Iron Horse before, but like my Grandpa Davis said, as long as you're confident in yourself and the engine, things get easy."
"Well, he's not wrong." Henry sighed as he looked at the sky through the glass ceiling of Tidmouth sheds, "Some misfits we are."
"True." Correlle smiled a bit, "But, if given a choice, there's no misfit in the world that trumps you."
"Same for you, but as my driver." Henry suddenly felt a hefty yawn come over him, "We should get some sleep. I don't think we have much longer before the Firelighter comes."
"True." Correlle yawned, "Plus, I feel kinda… *yawn* drowsy myself…"
"I can tell. You care barely keep your eyes open." Henry chuckled tiredly, "Back to your cot. I'll be fine."
"If you say so." Correlle sleepily tumbled off of his front buffer beam and ambled back to her cot. Henry could hear her grunt as she fell face-first into the somewhat flat pillow she used. The second he heard her faint breathing, a sign she fell asleep, he yawned and closed his eyes himself. The nightmare was well out of his mind by now, so he knew what little rest he would get until the time came to pull the Flying Kipper would help him in the long run.
Primary Blog || Art Blog || Speedpaint || Kofi || Artistree
#ttte#ttte oc#ttte henry#ttte human oc#ask the young nor' westers#ttte au#ttte driver#ttte fanart#thomas and friends#ttte fanfic#young nor' westers
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Illustration for my TTTE X Polar Express Crossover.
Fanfic here; Hope you enjoy!!!
#art#artists on tumblr#digital art#ttte fanart#ttte#thomas and friends#thomas the tank engine#ttte oc#ttte gordon#ttte thomas#ttte fanfic#ttte fandom#the polar express#polar express#pere marquette 1225#ttte engine oc
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In Pursuit of Self - Chapter 23 Titlecard - Suffocating
#ttte young iron#ttte tornado#ttte fanfic#ttte art#ttte young iron au#ttte#ttte au#ttte fanart#ttte 3801
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Dear friends,
The Island of Sodor has many engines, we know the stories of many and how they have the honour of joining The Fat Controller's railway, this is a collection of how one gained said honour himself.
These stories tell you how he did it.
This is the story of Jensen The Goods Engine.
- The Author
#TTTE#TTTE OC#Thomas and Friends#Thomas The Tank Engine#Stardust Stories#the railway series#ttte fanfic#Jensen The Goods Engine
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I decided to publish my first Jameward short fic!
Title: Under Lavender Skies
Summary: James would have liked it if he and Edward could run side-by-side forever. AKA James proposes to Edward and they get married. That's it. That's the fic.
This is the first time I've written Jameward fic and the first work I decided to post publicly in years, so please keep that in mind. ^^;
Inspired by this post by @shelli-gator
#jameward#2x5#ttte 2x5#ttte james#ttte edward#ttte#thomas and friends#ttte fanfic#ao3fic#ao3 fanfic#fanfic#james the red engine#edward the blue engine#the funny thing about this is that i wrote this in a 3 am haze months ago#and then just forgot about it#this was sitting in my notes app for MONTHS#so i figured i might as well share it with the people#i hope y'all like it#redengineposts#randys trainfics
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Day 1-A Day OFF
Traintober 2023
Other Stories
Day 1-Free Day
A Day Off
Gordon awoke early as he always did. Sixty years of waking early to take the morning express made it nearly impossible for Gordon to sleep in. However, he usually didn't mind, after all the express must be pulled, came rain, shine, sleet, or hail. Today was not usual. Today he had a day off. Although the concept of engines being given time off had come to Sodor several years before, Gordon couldn't say he truly understood the appeal. Oh he didn't begrudge those that enjoyed the days off, he could certainly understand the goods engines' need for time away from their troublesome charges, but he was an express engine. Express work was difficult, requiring speed, precision, and stamina. It was perhaps the most difficult task an engine could be given. It was also freeing. Nowhere else did Gordon feel alive in the same way he did while at speed with his coaches, racing the wind itself towards his destination.
While the Express had occasionally not ran at times over the years, or it had been given to another engine, he had never missed the express because he was taking the day off...until now.
To his left, he could see Gracie being prepared by her crew for the express. It wasn't jealousy that had him feeling oddly out of sorts this morning, no matter what James said...or at least not as it once would have been. The steam turbine was a friend and had been his running mate for nearly two decades before she was moved to the Vicarstown-Mantauo run. So while he would admit to being envious of her, it was a weak and fleeting emotion, easily brushed aside in favor of his true discontent with being forced to take a day off.
He had nothing to do.
When Henry had oh so helpfully asked what Gordon had enjoyed doing, his answer of "pulling expresses" had somehow only further convinced Sir Topham Hatt that he needed a day off. Gordon was an engine of action, and while listening to opera recordings while he waited for his next train or as he settled in for the night was enjoyable, he could not see himself doing it for longer than those periods.
He had briefly considered going to the works for maintenance and perhaps a repaint. Unfortunately, he had been recently given a tune-up, and any maintenance that could be achieved within a day was already done. Repainting wasn't an option either, while he had no doubt he could be repainted if he wished, his current coat of paint was still fresh enough James was using his reflection in it to check his own paint for blemishes.
He had known that approaching his shed mates with his problem would have only led to teasing, and likely would not have produced any usable results, so he had instead approached another engine. Their enthusiastic response had in no way encouraged him.
As if summoned by his thoughts, a quiet peep peep came from the yard as his guide for the day approached. Thomas rolled happily into view, oddly chipper for the early hour considering Thomas was famously not a morning engine. He was pushing a small flat track with an odd bucket on either end with pipes coming out of them towards the ends of the truck.
"Good morning Gordon."
"Good morning Little Thomas, you seem to be in high spirits for such an early hour."
"It's a wonderful morning," Thomas hummed contentedly, as he buffered up to Gordon.
Gordon raised an eyebrow.
Thomas's driver snorted as she climbed down from his cab, "it's the coffee," She explained.
"Coffee," Gordon repeated dubiously. Whilst he was not as disdainful of human food or drink as certain red engines, he couldn't say he was an enthusiast by any means.
Thomas happily nodded, "A shop in Ffarquhar opened that served engines as well as people." The tank engine took a long sip from the pipe facing him, which Gordon now realized was straw for engines. "It's wonderful," he said with a happy sigh.
Samantha snorted as she coupled Gordon to the truck, "It certainly helps out with your mood in the mornings."
Thomas gave the engine equivalent of a shrug.
"I feel better with it. We also got one for you Gordon!"
Gordon eyed the container before him with suspicion.
"It's fine to drink." Samantha said, "Thomas has one every morning and the only side effect is an improved mood."
"Then Gordon needs three," Henry called as he rolled past on his way to the docks to collect the Flying Kipper.
Gordon wheeshed at him, but he only chuckled.
"It's okay if you don't like it." Thomas said seriously, "I know you're not the biggest fan of human food, but I tried to get something I thought you'd like."
Gordon sighed at his friend's nervous expression, knowing he'd at least have to try the drink.
Gordon took a slow hesitant pull from his straw. He expected it to taste like his firewoman's smelled, overpoweringly sweet and creamy. Instead, he got a rich, bitter, and dark flavor, nearly biting in its intensity, and pleasantly hot. When he had finished his sip, he eyed Thomas thoughtfully, "You say you get one of these every morning?"
Thomas nodded, "Yes. Sir Topham Hatt arranged for it to be ready when I arrive for my first train."
Nicole snorted from Thomas's cab, "but yours has enough sugar and creamer to drown someone.,
Gordon considered his coffee thoughtfully, "...I would not be averse to a similar arrangement."
"I knew it!"
As Thomas happily chattered away as he pulled Gordon from the sheds towards his branchline, Gordon let a fond smile grow on his face. Perhaps a day off wouldn't be amiss after all.
#ttte fanfic#rws fanfic#TTTE Gordon#ttte thomas#Prompt-Free Day#Traintober#Traintober23#Traintober 2023
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(BOS lore)
Dear My Pettigrew (Gordon POV)
PS: The story takes place when Edward and Gordon are three weeks broken up for some reason. (Gordon's POV)
It's about three weeks now. Edward broken up with me for his new start. And Yes I'm so happy to Edward got better and move on, But I was so furious about broken up. I know I have to respect Edward, But I still don't understand why did he choose this way exactly...
Edward Pettigrew. He was an engine who was very afraid to start and end other relationships in the past. I think the 'Timothy incident' came too shocking to him. He did not intend to come out of his shed since the incident, So Henry and I had to take over his job. At first I used to knocking on his door aggressively because it was so annoying to do his job cuz of that incident. I didn't understand his pain.
Henry had a lot of complaints, too, but he did nothing but grumble in front of his door. But after time, I sometimes sat in front of Timothy's door and consoled him when the anniversary of his death came. tell him that Timothy will be fine into his heart forever.
So I started to bring up the nature baptism to him in front of his door. He didn't like it at the time, but I was just worried about him. As time passed, he seemed to be waiting for me to come to him. And he even gave me a short response or advice sometimes.
After all that time, Edward almost recovered, and even Henry joined, and me, Edward, and Henry worked together. But other than that, I spent a lot of time alone with Edward. Some days, we both ran to Brandam because we suddenly wanted to see the sea.
And I finally realized that... I like Edward a lot. But Not in a friendly way... there was a difference. My heart beat faster than any other engines when I saw him, and I wanted to protect him. Even with my life held for him.
And I confessed that feeling to him. He thought he was agonizing for a moment, but he soon accepted, crying, and that's how we became lovers.
And even after I broke up with him, he treated me like a friend as if nothing had happened. I looked at it and was angry that he might have forgotten me, so I deliberately gave him a cold shoulder.
But he didn't care about it, rather he helped me more often. And then someone came to the railway.
His name is James Hughes. Same size as him and It was a bit of a pompous engine doing something similar to Edward's job. He suddenly appeared at the Railway and began to approach Edward in a friendly manner. And he would sometimes go somewhere with James, as if he didn't hate it. It's like we used to go somewhere together in the past.
So I dragged him into the group with Henry and me, and we striked together. That's why he didn't get to see Edward much. It was successful as a result.
But after that, when the plan went up in smoke, James casually talked to Edward again. I didn't like it, and some days I just looked down on James after He finish his conversation with Edward.
"So, Back to bored old thing again?"
I said, then he said
"What the hell are you mean? I'm just talking to him. that's all you stupid metal head."
Yeah. This was the exactly what he said to me. It was obvious that he thought Edward really liked him. But I didn't lose to him and I answered
"Oh please. You're just a poser who thinks You're the best and everyone like you. a filthy wooden break."
"What did you just say?"
James said in fume, But I didn't care.
"I mean James, You don't know anything about Edward much as I do."
When I mentioned Edward, his face turned red as his coat. And he got mad at me.
"That means You and him are-"
"Yeah. We were so close that Edward forgot about you when he's with me."
I can't remember exactly what I said by spouting anything just to ignore James. I only remember him slapping me all of a sudden
"Listen to me You big ass galloping sausage! I don't know why are you even start this shit, But I don't care! You're just a jealousy engine that wants us to spilt!"
When I heard that, my head went blank. I'm jealous of him? Why should I? How?
When I came to my senses and looked at him, James already gone to the Tidmouth, and I was sitting in the knapfort, cooling my head for a while. then... Edward came next to me.
"Well, That's how you feel? how are you feel about me and James?"
Edward was surprisingly calm. He knelt down and patted me on the cheek that James hit. And sat next to me and stood still.
"Did you heard everything I said?"
"Yes. I didn't miss a word that came out of your mouth and I heard everything"
I had a lot of thoughts for a moment. Actually, I just wanted to run away from the spot. Who knew he'd be listening to everything?
"But I can't say that I completely 'hate' it"
"What do you mean by that?"
"That's how much you haven't forgotten me yet. Aren't you saying you like it the same as when we were together?"
I couldn't answer what he said. Because he was only saying the right thing about my stupid words. He looked at the setting sun for a moment, then raised me to my feet.
"But you know you have to apologize for being rude to James, right? I'm a little disappointed in that part."
"Ugh, Alright. If you say so."
As soon as he said it, he blushed and smiled shyly. It was his smile after a long time.
After that, went to James, gave him a cup of coffee and apologized. He accepted the apology with unexpected ease. And he had coffee, I had tea, and we were standing awkwardly, and I spoke to him first.
"You know, please be sweet to Edward."
"What?"
He spilled some coffee on the gravel, panicking at the words.
"I- I didn't say what am I think about him! Don't be so sure!"
He didn't know what to do when his face turned red as He flusted.
"Heh, Yeah I hear you very well... But Seriously. Be sweet to Him. He is a weak-hearted engine, contrary to his appearance"
At that, James nodded and drank all the coffee and went into the Shed.
Dear my Pettigrew, I want you to forgive me for not being honest with you. I feel ashamed that I fought with someone else over you. I hated it when you left. But it's different now. Even if we're not lovers, I know you care so much about me. It's been a while, but I still love you so much Edward Pettigrew.
#ttte#thomas and friends#ttte human au#ttte humanized#bezel of sodor#ttte edward#ttte gordon#ttte james#BP's writing#ttte fanfic#ttte gordward#Gordward#ttte 2x4#ttte Jameward#Jameward#ttte 2x5#Damn english is so fucking hard
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James and his beloved ballroom dancing teacher
a rewrite of this post/ficlet from 2021 :] and a partner to this art piece i posted yesterday.
wordcount: 8.9k words
relationships: romantic 4x5, implied background 2x3.
characters: ALL HUMANISED James, Gordon, Thomas, Edward, Henry, Percy, Flying Scotsman, Topham Hatt (who have talking rolls, everyone else is implied to be there or potentially name-dropped)
tags/warnings: brief mention of alcohol, kissing, anxiety/spiralling thoughts. Can't think of anything else.
Kind of hurt/comfort but mostly just emotional fluff. A slowburn oneshot, if you will.
Full fic under the cut ^-^
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The anniversary of Sir Topham Hatt taking over from his father, (also Sir Topham Hatt) is a scant few months away. James won’t lie he’s been eyeing up the calendar – he’s been sensing a good opportunity – so he’s spent the past week or two voicing his …wonderings as to whether the Fat Controller will throw some sort of event, surely he should, he’s earnt one by now.
Thomas finally looks up, and eyes James over their mediocre breakroom cups of tea.
“You just want an excuse to dress up, don’t you?” he drawls, even as he idly stirs his tea, the spoon clinking against the cup.
James sticks his nose in the air even as he flushes just a little.
“And what if I do?” he huffs. “I have a lovely dress-coat that I ordered all the way from Manchester, and I haven’t even had a chance to wear it yet! A ball would be perfect! When was the last time we ever had a ball?”
Thomas stares into his tea.
“I don’t think we’ve ever had a ball,” he says, then he frowns. “Well, maybe when the queen came. But, y’know. That was the queen.”
“I’m just saying, we should have one,” James says, waving his hands. “I mean, even besides all that, surely Sir Topham Hatt deserves one. It’s been a long haul.”
Thomas rolls his eyes, but he does nod.
“You have a point,” he says. “You could ask him. Or are you hoping the gossip will reach him first?”
James laughs. “You know me too well,” he says. “Oop, it’s 1:40, my next train’s in five minutes. See you later, puffball!”
“Bye, bootlace,” Thomas calls back as James rises from his seat and hurries away.
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It seems James’ plan has worked. Within the week, murmurs are already spreading about a ball. Hatt even sends out a letter of interest, to which actually most everyone replies with enthusiasm.
“Sir, would you let us go to the mainland to get appropriate formalwear?” James asks, eventually, when their paths cross at Knapford. “It would be a shame if we couldn’t dress to impress – the opportunity for such things comes so rarely. It’d be a real treat.”
Topham eyes him knowingly, but laughs and tugs at the lapels of his coat as he thinks.
“I have to admit, you raise a good point, James,” he nods. “I can’t let you all go at once, but… Hm. Perhaps I will organise some sort of schedule within the coming month.”
James beams. “Oh, thank you sir!”
“Before you get too excited,” Hatt smiles wryly, “Go take your next train.”
The clock overhead in the station chimes 10am. James flinches, before he nods at Hatt and hurries away.
It’s fine. He counts this as a win.
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After work today, James ends up walking home with Edward. Not that they do this often, but, well, they only live a couple flats down from each other anyway. And besides! James has a favour he needs to ask as unnaturally as possible.
“Ugh,” he starts. “The ball coming up, I’m so nervous.”
“Nervous?” Edward repeats. “That’s hardly like you, James.”
“But I don’t know how to dance,” James complains, shooting Edward a kind of look.
Edward shakes his head, frowning in fond confusion.
“Now that’s a lie,” he says. “I’ve seen you tap, James.”
“But that’s not ballroom dancing,” James stresses. “I don’t know how to- say, to waltz. I can’t show up to a real, fancy ball not knowing how to waltz.”
And Edward lets out a little snort now that he’s catching on, his smile slowly growing and his eyebrow slowly raising.
“Not like you,” James finally lays down his honey trap. “I remember seeing you dance, once, Edward, you were wonderful.”
“And you want me to teach you.”
James clasps his hands, grinning. “Yes!” he exclaims.
“No,” says Edward.
“Ah! Why not?!”
Edward laughs, and keeps walking even as James stops, putting his hands on his hips dramatically as he pouts at the back of Edward’s head.
“I need you!” James calls. “Edward, it’s my time of need!”
“Uh huh,” Edward says, not looking back and not stopping.
Eventually, James is forced to rush to catch up, and he quickly manages to fall back in step with Edward.
“But I need a teacher,” he pleads again. “Edward, I don’t want to make a fool of myself!"
"You could have fooled me,” Edward laughs, before he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Look, if you really want a good teacher, why don’t you ask Gordon? He taught me everything I know.”
James stops dead again – but this time, he has a much more different, far more flustered expression on his face. Edward stops this time, too, a few paces ahead of James, and looks back at him with a knowing smile.
“Do ask nicely though, hm?” he tacks on. “You wouldn’t want Gordon to turn you down, would you?”
James’ flush only deepens.
“Sod off,” he finally says.
“Mm, this is my house,” Edward replies, smiling, and James realises he has in fact walked Edward all the way home – past his own place, too. “I think it’s you who may have to sod off.”
James flushes redder.
Edward laughs at him, in that fond knowing way of his that’s almost more infuriating than anything else, and waves goodbye as he heads up the path to his flat.
James balls his fists, before he lets out a hissing breath between his teeth, and walks himself home while he definitely, totally, does not stew over ask Gordon.
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On Tuesdays, he has a small overlap with Gordon at Knapford at 10am.
So James is already loitering on the station platform as Gordon hops down from his engine, and Gordon spots him leaning on one of the pillars, attempting to look as casual as possible.
“Oh!” he says. “Hello there, little James.”
James hopefully manages to control his expression. He hasn’t decided if he is annoyed by the ‘little’ or if it’s grown on him, because Gordon has managed to make it sound …endearing, nowadays. Though James is, uh, may be imagining that bit. Probably.
“Hi,” he replies.
“…Were you waiting for me?” Gordon asks, and he draws in closer, pausing a good metre away and putting one hand in his pocket, resting his weight over one hip, and it’s not fair, because he looks so good and he cuts such an imposing figure in his work uniform that James has to focus to get through his sentence.
“Yes, actually,” James says, straightening up from where he was leaning against the station pillar. “A little bluebird told me you can dance.”
To James’ surprise, Gordon actually… stiffens a little. James watches his expression close up just a fraction, almost imperceptibly so if James didn’t happen to know the minutia of Gordon’s facial expressions well by this point.
“…What of it?” Gordon asks, folding his arms. He sounds somewhat… miffed.
James clasps his hands behind his back and smiles as brightly as he can.
“Teach me.”
“No.”
James pouts. “Please?”
“No.” Gordon repeats, more out of instinct, before he sighs, and looks down dolefully at James. “…Are you going to drop this, at all?”
“No,” James says sweetly. “Teach me?”
Really, James hopes Gordon will say yes without too much hounding. H-he does like the idea of learning off of Gordon. Whether Gordon denies it to not, he does carry himself in his day-to-day life with the grace of poise of a dancer. Now Edward’s mentioned it, James isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed sooner.
A-and, well, really, he trusts Gordon. Gordon will make fun of him to his face, but he probably wouldn’t tattle on James’ potential two left feet to everyone else. And James doesn’t really want to… broadcast that he’s having to learn these things. Or something. He doesn’t know, it’s probably all a bit silly anyway.
Gordon tips his head back for a moment, and sighs heavily.
“Okay,” he says.
“Now, I know that you don’t-!” James cuts himself off. “Oh. Um. Thank you.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” Gordon says. “Catch up with me after work, if you’re serious.”
“I’m dead serious!” James clasps his hands. “I am.”
“Well then,” Gordon says, as he nods at James before walking past him, to go get some morning tea or something, probably. “That’s that, then.”
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Gordon catches him after work, his expression somewhat intense as he grabs James’ arm and his attention. James pauses, looking up at him.
“Oh,” he says, “yes?”
“Tonight,” Gordon says, voice low, not far off murmuring into James’ ear. “Are you willing to start tonight?”
James lights up. “Yes!” he says, though he does his best to mirror Gordon’s hushed tone. “Where? When?”
Gordon snorts, amused, and pats his left trouser pocket knowingly.
“Hatt gave me a key to the ballroom they’ll be using,” he says conspiratorially. “We will practice there.”
James smiles, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.
“…And, I was thinking after dark,” Gordon says softly. “…Just to, shall we say, preserve our dignity.”
James flushes a little, despite himself.
“What,” he says, “you think I’m going to be that bad?”
Gordon laughs, and lets James’ arm go. He also doesn’t answer the question.
“How’s 11?” he asks instead.
“…pm?”
“Yes.”
“…Gordon.”
“…10?”
James closes his eyes for a moment. Well, if Gordon is really that embarrassed to be found with him, then fine.
“We can do 11,” he says tiredly. “You’re the one with the earlier trains, anyway.”
Gordon snorts, and nods. He gives James the address.
“Do you have dancing shoes?” he asks, as James begins to walk away.
“I got some recently,” James says, waving his hand. “I only had tap shoes before, and I didn’t think that’d quite work out.”
Gordon laughs again, before he nods at James, seemingly satisfied.
“See you later,” he says, finally raising his voice back to his normal speaking register, before he turns on his heel and strides away.
James takes a moment to massage his temple. That was weird. That was weird, right? He’s not going nuts?
“…That was weird,” comments Thomas from across the room. “What on earth were you talking about?”
“Ah!” James practically jumps out of his skin, and jolts around, glaring at his coworker. “How long have you been there?!”
“Not that long,” Thomas says, as he pulls on his coat. “But long enough to see that was kind of weird. What did he want?”
“He’s doing a favour for me,” James says, before he shakes his head and starts to walk. Thomas falls into pace beside him, head tilting in curiosity, waiting for an explanation. “…Privately.”
“Ooh,” Thomas teases. “You finally told him?”
“What?!” James goes red despite himself, and gives Thomas a shove. “You’re delusional. There’s nothing to tell. Shut up.”
“Uh huh.”
“Shut up!”
James speeds up, hoping it’ll make Thomas leave him alone. It notably does not. In fact, Thomas tails him the entire way back to his flat, asking leading questions the whole while, and James has to slam the bloody door closed in the prat’s face until Thomas finally leaves him alone. And James can hear Thomas’ laughter through the door as he walks away.
James takes the moment to let his back thump against the door and to cover his face, screaming into his hands a little bit, just for fun. This is… James needs a lie down, or something.
He also needs to find his dancing shoes before tonight.
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James trudges up to the hall, his bag with his shoes in it thrown over his shoulder, his coat thrown over top plain, casual clothes he doesn’t usually let people see him wear – he likes to be well presented at all times, but tonight he also needs to be comfortable enough to dance.
He’s so nervous. What if he can’t get it? What if Gordon gives up on him? What if this ruins their friendship? The building is dark, did James get the right time? The right place? He feels ill. Why couldn’t Edward have just said yes? If it turns out Gordon has stood him up, James is blaming Edward.
James tries the door handle. It’s …unlocked. He lets out a sigh of relief and slips inside.
…Wow. This room is huge. And that may be a stupid thing to say, considering it’s a ballroom, but James pauses, wide-eyed, by the door as he takes in the space. He didn’t even know the NWR had one of these.
And down the other end, Gordon is already there and waiting, though he’s lit a few candles, filling his end of the hall with a thin, watery yellow light, and he’s setting up… a tape deck?
“You still use cassettes?” James calls, and Gordon looks up at him. James hitches his bag up over his shoulder again as he crosses the room. “Way to join the modern world, Gordon.”
“What, would you have rather I brought a record player?” Gordon replies, as he inserts a cassette. “Besides, these are the tapes I learnt off. Figured it was a good place to start.”
James has to sit on the floor to swap his shoes over. Looking up at Gordon, who is still poking at the tape deck, James… drinks him in, a little. Gordon’s down to just his white button-up shirt, and he’s undone his tie and top two buttons, not to mention he’s rolled up his sleeves. James does his best not to stare at Gordon’s forearms. Gordon lets the tape start playing, and a waltz James doesn’t know the name of fills the air.
“Are you ready?”
James jumps, and shakes his head to clear it, and finishes lacing up his shoes. He rises to his feet, shedding his coat, and he puts his things to the side as Gordon watches him.
“…I don’t think I’ve never seen you in a just a t-shirt before,” Gordon comments, as James hurries back to stand in front of him.
And James looks down at himself, flushes, and wonders briefly if he should put his coat back on. It’s a long-sleeve t-shirt (red, of course), because he’s not about to let Gordon inspect his scars. It does have a lower neckline, showing the hints of some, though, and it leaves the scars on the back of his hands visible.
Gordon… doesn’t comment on any of that, though his eyes graze over them briefly.
“Feel honoured,” James jokes instead, shivering despite himself. “I don’t usually dress down.”
To his relief, Gordon laughs, and holds out his right hand to James.
“Then I do feel honoured indeed,” he says. “Now, lets begin before it gets any later, hm?”
James puts his left hand in Gordon’s, before he tries to play it cool as Gordon puts his other hand on James’ back. …Um, huh. His hands are big. And warm. James focusses on looking Gordon in the eye instead of reacting to the feeling of Gordon’s hands on him.
“Put your hand on my shoulder,” says Gordon. “And don’t lean your arm on mine. You should be poised.”
James blinks, but nods, words escaping him, and he strikes the pose he thinks he’s supposed to – he can copy what he’s seen on Strictly Come Dancing at least this much.
“Good,” Gordon says. “Now, we’ll start with the waltz.”
James… James actually gets his head around it far quicker than he expected, which he is thoroughly relieved by. He does have his eyes glued to their feet, and he sometimes steps backwards when he shouldn’t, but, successfully, he hasn’t stood on Gordon’s toes yet.
Gordon spends the night teaching James a basic going-in-a-little-circle thing.
“I do expect you to memorise all the steps,” Gordon does say eventually. “But it will be less important for you, seeing as you’ll be following a lead anyway. As long as you can be reactive, read what is coming next, and follow it, then you should be fine.”
James’ arms feel heavy, his feet feel sore. It’s been a good long while since he’s had a dancing lesson of any sort. The muscles in his legs are reminding him of that fact so courteously.
…Gordon smiles at him anyway, though.
“Well done,” he says, and James blinks in surprise at the compliment. “It’s not often anyone picks it up that fast.”
“Was I quicker than Edward?” James asks, half-teasing as he steps back, taking his hands off Gordon and stretching a little.
Gordon laughs, his head tipping back, and it rings around the empty room. James finds himself smiling in response to the sound, he’s always liked Gordon’s laugh.
“Yes, James,” Gordon says. “You were indeed. Now, it’s… late. We should finish.”
James swaps his shoes back over and pulls on his coat, and Gordon blows out the candles and turns off the tape deck, though he leaves it where it is. And he swaps his shoes out, too, and turns to an already waiting James.
“I’ll walk you home?” James offers.
“…If you insist,” Gordon says, and he gives James a little smile that almost looks a little fond, if James dares to believe as such.
They walk quietly, not wanting to wake anyone, and James pauses as Gordon stops by James’ front gate.
“You don’t need to double back,” Gordon says. “I can manage the rest on my own, I think.”
“Oh,” James says. “…Of course. Thank you, by the way. I didn’t expect you to go quite this late.”
“You were doing well,” Gordon shrugs. “I didn’t want to…” he gestures vaguely with one hand, “…interrupt the flow of progress.”
James shifts on his feet. “When will we do this again?” he asks.
“Tomorrow?” Gordon offers, before he blinks at himself even as James looks up at him. “I-if you like.”
“Okay,” James agrees before he considers whether he should. “That’d be splendid.”
“Done.” Gordon says, before his lips quirk into a wry, lopsided smile, and he tacks on, “Sleep well, James.”
James nods, and hurries down the path to his front door without another word. It’s once he’s unlocking the door that he realises Gordon’s waiting for him to go inside before he leaves. So James waves goodbye, closes the door behind him, and watches through the peephole for a moment to see Gordon walk away.
His heart is racing. James hangs up his coat by the door, presses the flats of his palms to his cheeks to check whether they’re as hot as they feel before he stumbles his way to bed.
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Time passes. At first, it was rough, returning to the habit of dancing every day, but a month has passed, and there’s only one month more until the ball, and James and Gordon have been meeting to practice by candlelight every night. James is even used to the adjustment of sleeping schedule now.
Is it silly that James really likes the candlelight aspect? It’s… romantic, if he may be so bold. Though on the other hand, it feels almost mean to take up so much of Gordon’s time like this. Yes, James asked, and asked again when Gordon said no, but Gordon is giving him far much more time than James had ever considered he’d be willing to give.
Which is very nice of him. But… James just didn’t expect it, he supposes.
Over those four weeks, Gordon has gone from bossing him through the steps and correcting his form, to… quietly complimenting him when James pulls off a nice piece of footwork. And there’s been more and more compliments than before, even though Gordon has gotten quieter. That’s the only way James can put it. Gordon’s been talking less and watching more – he must actually be quite quiet if you just leave Gordon be. And… Gordon has just been looking. At James. Sometimes, he seems distracted doing so.
And James can’t help but admit he’s guilty in return. James didn’t realise how dark Gordon’s eyes are, how warm and rich a brown they are – not until they’re looking down at him, glinting in the candle light.
It’s as James waves Gordon goodbye one night more, Gordon standing with his hands in his pockets under the streetlight, and Gordon smiles and nods and waits for James to close the door, that it all hits him.
James closes the door so Gordon can’t see his face as he flushes dark, and he puts his hands flat on the door and leans there, bracing himself as he flushes hot and flushes cold, and-
Cinders. Cinders and ashes. James has a crush on Gordon.
Like, okay, fine. Fine! James has ‘had a crush on Gordon’ for a while. He thinks the guy is big and proud and strong and pretty and handsome and all those good things, but James had actually always considered that fairly superficial. Maybe even bordering on jealousy, if he really wanted to try analysing himself. And that was the biggest reason why he never wanted to tell anyone, and why the idea of telling Gordon felt so mortifying. Because… what if it wasn’t real?
But now? This time? This is… this is a real, actual crush. James turns so he can put his back to the door, flopping there as he feels a little lightheaded, standing in the dark of the entrance hall of his home. He hardly knows what to do with himself like this.
A-at the very least, they’re good dance partners. It feels pretty natural, actually. James is surprised how natural it feels. They dance best when they aren’t bickering – and… Gordon and him haven’t bickered for a while.
James shivers, and marches himself into the kitchen to go drink a glass of water and then throw a glass of water in his face. He’s being melodramatic. Despite that, he almost feels like he’s coming down with something, now the realisation’s hit him.
It’s moments like this where James is glad he lives alone. No one to see him like this, no one to make fun of him. No one to ask weaselly little questions that make him feel more confused.
He shakes his head, grips the sink as he takes a big breath in and a big breath out, before he whisks himself off to bed. Maybe he’ll sleep it off.
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Nope. Three weeks until the ball and James has to acknowledge that he is, in fact, in love with Gordon. He has to grapple with this night after night as Gordon’s hands are on him and he gets to rest his hands on Gordon, and he can spend the whole time studying Gordon’s face instead of having to look at his feet, because Gordon has gotten him good enough that James doesn’t need to watch his feet anymore. And Gordon’s even taught him multiple dances at this point, though James is still learning the tango. The foxtrot and the quickstep were easy enough. And sillily enough, he didn’t consider Gordon to be a man who knew how to tango.
The candlelight catches Gordon’s eye again, as they turn a corner, and it makes James’ breath hitch a little, before he swallows the rising guilt in his throat, and opens his mouth.
“If, uh,” he starts slowly, following Gordon’s lead as they do the fancier turn Gordon taught him, “if you ever want to learn how to tap, for any reason, I can teach you too, if you want.”
Gordon tilts his head. “Well,” he says, lips quirking into a little smile as he leads James through a promenade and spinning him at the end for good measure, “I don’t know when I’d need that, but I’ll keep you in mind.”
“Or even something like-!”
James can’t help the rising agitation in his voice, and to his- his- his horror? Gordon comes to a complete halt, making James stop with him, and he raises an eyebrow at James even as his hands feel so heavy where they rest in James’ own and on James’ hip. It kills the words trying to form in James’ throat.
“What’s all this about, James?”
Cinders, Gordon asks it so plainly.
“I feel guilty,” James blurts – before he can think about whether he even should. “For taking up so much of your time.”
Gordon pauses, pursing his lips, and he looks quietly amused for a moment, before he shrugs. “You’re not taking anything I’m not willing to give,” he says, and he gives James an enigmatic smile, and James wishes the man would stop talking in circles. “I don’t mind spending my time like this.”
I don’t mind you, is what Gordon’s eyes seem to say. James hopes his cheeks don’t look as hot as they feel. He’s almost shaking.
“But!” Gordon finally lifts his hands away. “If you really feel that way, then I’ll take a batch of your scones after this is all over.”
And James laughs at that, slightly too loudly, a burst of the frantic energy that was building inside him, and he smiles and nods and steps backwards so the gloom will hide his expression which most certainly must be moonstruck. “Done,” he agrees.
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The time has been flying by. It’s now the week of the ball, and James should be excited. They’re still practicing by candlelight in the ballroom in the evenings, but the ballroom is slowly getting populated with things like tables and lights and decorations as the days pass, signalling the ball’s arrival.
James feels anxious! He’s not even sure why. It’s clearly not over his ability to dance. They can now run several dances start to end, and at multiple speeds, with ease. He’s even figured out that tango.
It dawns on him gently as he and Gordon are doing their latest lap, breezing down the entire length of the ballroom, that James doesn’t want this to end. He wants his candlelit nights with Gordon, stolen away from the chaos that daytime and the railway and their workmates present.
He likes this. He likes Gordon.
So when Gordon is asked to give his key back three days before the event, James can’t help but look distressed at the news. And Gordon laughs, he claps James on the back and tells him not to worry because he’s going to be fine.
Gordon doesn’t… get it, then. James takes a breath in, a breath out, and offers Gordon a smile and a little thank you. That’s fine. Gordon doesn’t… have to get it.
It has left him sitting in the breakroom, staring into his tea as he muses over it all, though. And while he doesn’t hear the approaching footsteps, he does hear the clink of a mug set down, and the thump of someone taking the seat across from him, and Thomas asking, “What’s got you so glum?”
James jumps, not realising he must have been wearing his heart on his sleeve, and offers Thomas a smile even as he goes to drink his tea to try hide his misery.
It makes Thomas eye him warily.
“Gordon’s not broken your heart, has he?” he asks.
James chokes on his drink, and splutters, “I beg your pardon?!”
Thomas laughs at him, leaning back in his seat, and James glances around the room to doublecheck that they are thankfully alone right now.
“Edward mentioned to me that you’d been having lessons,” Thomas winks, gesturing a cheers with his tea.
“That wanker.”
“I haven’t told anyone,” Thomas quickly follows up, eyeing James over his mug, before he smiles that cheeky smile of his. “Mostly because I know you’ll have my head.”
“Damn right,” James says, and he takes a pointed drink of his tea, not even wanting to know how red he’s gone right now.
“Easy,” Thomas raises a hand in defeat. “I guess I’m just checking in. You’re looking pretty put out.”
James sighs. His shoulders sag. He cups his hands around his tea and stares into it.
“I’m just in a little over my head, I think,” he mumbles.
“More like head over heels.”
“I’ll throw this at you. Don’t think I wont.”
That makes Thomas laugh, even as James tries to glare at him, before Thomas’ expression softens.
“James,” he says, in a quiet voice that makes James’ stomach drop. “In all seriousness. I’ve known Gordon for longer than you have, and… if he didn’t want to have you around, he simply wouldn’t.”
James gives up on trying not to flush.
Thomas opens his mouth again, before he clearly decides against saying more, and he gets to his feet, shaking his head before he drains the last of his tea from his mug.
“Think about telling him, maybe,” he suggests, before he pats James on the shoulder and leaves the room, leaving James to stew in his thoughts, and try to gather himself before his afternoon train.
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The night of the ball itself is absolutely brimming with excitement. Everyone is dressed to the nines, in their fancy clothes from the mainland that Sir Topham Hatt let them all go get, and the energy is infectious. The crowd is full of people he knows and people he doesn’t, it seems all of Sodor’s invited, and about half of England too.
James himself is wearing his lovely red dress-coat, all wine-red and gold braid, his crispest white gloves, a cravat and a lovely pair of red boots he had to go buy from the mainland too, which are just perfect for dancing in after he’s spent the week breaking them in. And he’s grinning like a lunatic as he drinks in the room around him – the ballroom he’s only ever seen in half-light has absolutely exploded with life and colour and noise.
From behind him, someone clears their throat. James spins on his heel to see Gordon standing there, and oh! He’s looking absolutely resplendent in midnight blue tails of his own, adorned with silver braids, and a single red flower (a rose or a carnation, James can’t tell) in his lapel.
James grins as he sees it, feeling a little less self-conscious about the rich blue pocket square he added to his own outfit too.
He opens his mouth to speak, but Gordon beats him to it.
“You look just splendid,” Gordon says, awed.
James preens at that, he can’t help it. He then smooths down his coat and pointedly looks Gordon up and down in return, letting his admiration shine on his face. “I could say the same for you,” he says.
“Have you heard about all the invitations?” Gordon says, stepping in a little closer as someone slips behind him. “Hatt sent some out to celebrities who’ve been involved with the railway.”
“Oh, yes, I heard,” James nods. “I’ve even seen City of Truro here tonight! Fancy him coming along, Duck will be pleased.”
“Yes, yes,” Gordon says, glancing around. “But…”
James’s face falls in realisation. “Ah.”
“Yes. Not only did Hatt invite my brother, but he damn well accepted,” Gordon half-laughs, tugging at his lapels, straightening them, “and Hatt only told me this morning! And I know how Scott likes to present himself, so… I couldn’t be shown up.”
“Of course,” James agrees politely, but he purses his lips, reading the anxiety weighing down Gordon’s board shoulders with ease. “…Do you want to avoid him?”
“No,” Gordon says, almost too quickly, and he steps back to accept a couple flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and hands one to James, and James sips it politely before his eyes go wide, Hatt really didn’t spare any expense on getting the good stuff, huh? “I just… hope it will be less frigid tonight than the last time we spoke.”
James looks up at Gordon sympathetically, who muses on his statement for a moment longer, before he shakes his head like he’s shaking off water, and Gordon turns to him, smiling.
“But enough of that!” he exclaims, and offers James his arm. “I do believe we’re under distinct instructions to enjoy ourselves.”
James laughs, and takes it, stepping in closer as a couple tries to slip by them to get to the dance floor.
“Shall we go attack the hors d’oeuvres before Henry does?” he offers.
Gordon laughs, and pats James’ wrist with surprising tenderness, it almost makes James gasp.
“That’s a splendid idea,” he grins back, the ice finally melting from his face.
James’ heart totally doesn’t not skip a beat over the way Gordon says splendid.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
It’s all fine. The evening goes fine! It’s now about 9pm, and the room is now lit with electric lights, candles, and strings of fairy lights. It really does make the mood more magical. James splits off now, to go natter with his friends. He gets heckled by Thomas and Percy, but they’re all laughing, and James has to compliment their formal gear too.
“It’s nice to finally get a flattering tailor, I’ll tell you that much,” Percy says, smoothing down his coat. “I don’t think I’ve ever owned a waistcoat before.”
“And I can’t remember the last time I actually wore a tie,” Thomas jokes, making a show of tugging his collar. “But really, James, I see why you wanted to dress up so badly. You look great.”
James plays up preening, and does a little spin for them. “Thank you,” he says. “Call me vain, but honestly, I do find it splendid to see everyone dressed up like this.”
“It’s true,” Thomas nods. “I’ve seen more pretty gowns tonight than I think I have in my whole life. Have you seen what Emily’s wearing? Showstopper.”
“So many sequins,” Percy nods.
James moves closer to their side so he can take in the whole room, and as his eyes graze over the dance floor, he realises Edward and Henry are out there.
And then he barks with laughter.
“What’s up?” Thomas asks.
“I see why Edward refused to teach me!” James laughs, and points them out. “Look.”
Henry is leading, god bless him, and he’s very, very carefully watching their feet. He’s not unconfident, certainly, but he’s not necessarily confident either, and glancing up at Edward’s face, who’s smiling encouraging at him, and not even wincing when Henry steps on his toes.
“That’s cute,” Percy says. “Good for them.”
And… watching them go? Maybe it’s the live music. Maybe it’s the candlelight. Maybe it’s the champagne. But James is suddenly possessed with the need to go find Gordon and drag him out onto the dance floor right now.
“Excuse me,” he says, and Thomas smiles at him knowingly, and James flips him off for fun even as he begins to weave his way through the crowd.
James finds himself outside, stepping through the grand French doors that have been thrown open to welcome the warm summer night. The spill-out area is filled with classy outdoor furniture, there’s fairy lights everywhere, the gardens have been completely redone and all the hedges are beautifully trimmed, and there, standing off to the side, is Gordon and his brother.
Gordon’s laughing along to whatever Scot is saying, but the way he has his arms folded across his chest, the set of his shoulders, the way his body is angled away from the conversation, it’s clear to anyone who knows him well that he’s a little too uncomfortable right now.
So James makes a beeline for him, and pops up by Gordon’s elbow.
“Hullo, Gordon!” he chirps warmly, and smiles as the tension just rolls of Gordon now someone else is here. “And, hello,” he says, polite yet slightly stiff to Scot, who nods at him and offers him the big smile of someone who is very used to meeting new people.
“Hello!” he says, and offers James a hand to shake, which James does take (and tries not to wince at the strength of his grip). “Who might you be?”
“James,” James offers. “I’m a good friend of Gordon’s.”
“Aha!” Scot’s face lights up far more genuinely this time. “Gordie was just telling me about you.”
James tastefully manages not to laugh at Gordie, more so because he’s jumping straight into oh broken buffers, what did Gordon say about him?
“My prized student,” Gordon jokes, lightly elbowing him, and James grins back.
“Speaking of,” he says. “I reckon we go show Henry and Edward up. They’re not too bad, but Henry can’t keep his eyes off their feet.”
Gordon and Scot both laugh at that, and Scot graciously lets them go.
“Thank you,” Gordon leans down to whisper in James’ ear as they walk away. “It always feels like an interrogation with him.”
“It’s alright,” James shrugs. “I… had a gut feeling. Anyway. You want to dance?”
Gordon seems to be keeping himself from glancing over his shoulder.
James frowns softly at him. “We don’t have to,” he adds.
“Oh, nonsense,” Gordon says, and the hand Gordon has on James’ shoulder squeezes gently. “I’d love to. Let’s let this song finish first.”
They have to muscle their way through the crowd, ending up slipping past Hatt himself, who pats Gordon on the back and offers James a smile and nod as they go past. Before long, they end up out on the dance floor as the next song ends.
“Any ideas?”
“My guess is waltz,” Gordon says, adjusting his cufflinks before he offers his hands to James. “They’ve played a couple fast numbers back-to-back.”
“You’ve found our warmup, then. How thoughtful,” James laughs, stepping into Gordon’s arms. It’s so easy to lay his hand on Gordon’s shoulder now, to feel Gordon’s fingers curl around his hand. James isn’t sure how he ever could have dreaded it.
He laughs again as Gordon turns out to be right.
The music starts, and it’s just so natural to follow Gordon’s lead. And they’re off! Off around the dance floor, and Gordon successfully steers them through the crowd, pulling James out of the way of a close call of a collision with a quick pivot and a spin.
As they draw back together, Gordon eyes him, and James blinks back.
“You alright?” he asks. “You look flustered.”
“Flustered!” James exclaims, trying to play it off. “Me? Never.”
And Gordon actually… laughs at that, laughs at him, and James is struck with the realisation that perhaps… Gordon knows.
Well, it takes two to tango, doesn’t it?
“Well,” James changes tune, and he smirks up and Gordon. “In truth, I was just so taken by how handsome you look tonight.”
Now it’s Gordon’s turn to stammer, to falter, and for the colour to leap to his face. James hasn’t ever been brave enough to flirt before, but clearly, it works, and if Gordon’s going play that game then James can match him.
“Obviously,” Gordon manages to catch himself. “You must’ve liked the blue.”
He nods towards James’ pocket square, and James shakes his head with a bashful little smile.
“And I can see you went to match!” he nods back at Gordon’s flower.
Gordon goes to speak, before his eyes widen, and he quickly pulls James in close as another, far less-coordinated couple barrels past them, before letting James migrate back to the normal dancing distance.
“You do mean it? You think I’m handsome?”
“Of course I do,” James’ grin drops into something far softer despite his best efforts, and he says his next statement with far more heart than he means to. “I think you’re splendid.”
Gordon meets his eyes with a look that James literally cannot describe with any other word except tender.
“We need to talk, don’t we?” he asks, so softly, it’s amazing James can hear it over the music and the chatter.
“I’m listening now,” he replies.
Gordon swallows hard, before they’re brought to a halt as the song ends, and they – along with the rest of the dancers – politely clap for the musicians, before the next song starts. A quickstep. James’ face lights up instantly, and Gordon grins.
“Time to do some laps?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
They are the fastest and most fluid pair on the dancefloor. James’ dress-coat flairs out behind them in a most stunning way as they go all but flying past, a whirl of red and blue, and James can tell people are watching, and he’s relishing in it, grinning so brightly as Gordon smiles back.
They’re left panting and laughing and stumbling off the floor as the song ends – as not only the crowd but the band applaud them too. Gordon waves it off with a laugh. James takes a playful little bow, before they both stagger off to go find somewhere to sit and catch their breath.
Edward appears out of the crowd, Henry in tow, as James and Gordon find some seats, and James passes Gordon a drink.
“That,” Edward says, “was the most impressive thing I’ve seen in a long time.”
James chortles and slumps back, slumps back against Gordon without thinking, feeling Gordon tense under him for just a moment before he… yields, and melts a little back.
“You were doing well, too,” Gordon nods at Henry. “James wasn’t learning to dance from square one.”
“Just let a man be jealous in peace,” Henry grumbles jokingly, plopping himself down next to James with an oomph. “I don’t know how you manage being on your feet for that long, sometimes. I even got new comfortable shoes and my back is still killing me.”
As James pats his arm in consolation, Edward turns to Gordon with a glint in his eye.
“Dance?” he asks, holding out a hand. “For old time’s sake?”
Gordon fights down his smile, but gets up with no hesitation. Though he pauses a moment later, and glances back at James. “I’ll be right back,” he says.
“Sure thing,” James waves them off with a smile. “Show them all up.”
That makes Edward laugh, and the two of them disappear back into the throng to go dance.
James leans his head back against the wall, letting out a big, contented sigh.
“You alright?” Henry asks, as he shifts on his seat.
“Yeah, I am,” James says happily. “Or, I think so.”
Then he eyes Henry, and frowns, before he reaches over to the seats beside them and starts stealing all their cushions.
“Here, you look miserable,” he says, and helps pad Henry’s seat a little more.
“Thanks,” Henry says breathlessly. “I thought I was going to be alright, I really did.”
“No, no,” James nods along, “I understand. Especially when you’re not used to dancing.”
“How long have you and Gordon been practicing?” Henry asks.
“…Two?” James tries to count back on his fingers. “Yeah, two months.”
“Oh, thank god you said months!” Henry slaps his thigh with a laugh. “If you had said weeks, I really would have to start feeling bad!”
James laughs at him, and he opens his mouth to say something, before he realises someone is standing over them, and the two of them look up, and James tries really hard not to let his jaw drop as he realises it’s none other than superstar Scot Gresley, the Flying Scotsman himself.
“Hello Henry, James,” Scot says warmly, and Henry greets him back. James almost asks how they know each other, but glancing between them, it’s the cut of their noses that reminds James of all the drama a few years back. Henry’s got a little Gresley in him, too, that’s right, he always forgets that they’ve met before.
“James, that was some wonderful work out on the floor,” Scot turns to him, and James tries not to flush and gape, and he plays it off as politely as he can. “Would you dance with me?”
James… stares. Blinks once or twice. Henry’s gone a little stiff with surprise beside him, too. Scot extends his hand, still offering a warm smile, and after a second or two, James hesitantly takes it, rising from his seat. Scot’s fingers curl around his hand, but it doesn’t feel as gentle or soothing as Gordon. And as Scot starts to lead James out onto the dance floor, James shoots a look back over his shoulder at Henry, who mouths ‘good luck’ to him as they go.
Before he knows it, James is out on the floor, being lead through steps he knows so well by the Gresley brother he doesn’t know at all. And somehow, Scott is even faster and even lighter on his feet, and James can’t even make small talk for how much he has to concentrate on keeping up – which, notably, does not help his nerves. And Scot keeps this up for the whole quickstep, before they pause as the song changes, James fighting to hide that he needs to catch his breath.
As a slow waltz starts, Scot… relaxes, slows down, and shoots James a wink.
“Just wanted to test how good a teacher my brother is,” he banters. “You’ve both done very well.”
James blinks and swallows hard, before he offers a polite smile of his own.
“Thank you,” he says. “Gordon is a good teacher.”
“…You seem to make him happy.”
James stumbles, now, sheer shock, and his head snaps up to look Scot in the eye. Scot looks back evenly at him, lets James stare. …Scot has Gordon’s brown eyes, but the strength of his sideburns, his eyebrows, the slightly harder set of his face, even his sharper jawline. It’s just… not quite his Gresley.
“I hope you treat him kindly,” Scot continues, his voice dropping, but James flushes and is so glad he’s wearing gloves because he’s gone all clammy. “Gordon deserves something good to happen to him, and you do seem to be a delight.”
“I…” James is – as uncommon as the phenomenon is – lost for words. His old anxiety sweeps through him, makes his knees weak, and he hopes he isn’t shaking.
“I’m not asking you this as a celebrity,” Scot suddenly adds, his expression crumpling with concern as he must read all that straight off James’ face. “I’m asking you this as his brother.”
“I-I… of course,” James says, biting his tongue about telling Scot about how much Gordon didn’t want to talk to him tonight, because if Scot is so concerned about Gordon, then they’d have a better relationship, wouldn’t they? Cinders. And ashes. He wants out. James looks away, and ends up seeing Gordon and Edward, who are surprisingly close by, and they’re both shooting him concerned looks.
James bites his lip now, hoping he doesn’t look as upset as he feels, though he’s never really been good at hiding it. Don’t hurt Gordon? James hasn’t dreamt of it, not now, not anymore. He’s realised Gordon doesn’t really ever talk about his past before Sodor, and that’s telling in itself, isn’t it?
It must be the fact James is being asked this by someone who has probably hurt Gordon in the past is the thing that makes it sting like this. …What? Can Scot see that James is no better? Is that what Scot means by warning him?
Scot says nothing more either. James closes his eyes for a moment, willing the song to end, but suddenly, someone taps his shoulder, and he knows that hand, which is such a strange thing to say, isn’t it? His eyes fly open, because thank god, it’s Gordon and Edward. They must have danced their way through the crowd.
“You remember my friend, Edward, don’t you?” Gordon calls over the hubbub. “He’d love to catch up with you.”
“Of course,” Scot smiles broadly, …the practiced smile, James notes. He turns back to James, then, and squeezes his hand gently.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he says, and it does actually sound earnest, which is nice. It doesn’t soothe James’ nerves, though. “I hope you’ll keep our talk in mind.”
“I will,” is all James says, and he lets Edward take his place with a grateful, if not a little faint, smile.
Gordon practically dances their way off the dancefloor now, and James is more than eager to follow where Gordon leads. They end up pushing and weaving past several of their friends and workmates as they go, and James must still look a little stricken because he gets a few concerned glances as they go.
Gordon ends up leading him outside, and James immediately takes a few big breaths in and out as soon as the cooling evening breeze hits his face. It’s too stuffy, too loud, too much in there.
And as soon as it’s quiet, as they’re in private, as James can breathe, Gordon takes him by the shoulders and turns James so Gordon can look at him.
“What did he say to you?” he asks, and his voice is… surprisingly dark.
“He warned me,” James says, and he does his best not to sound bitter, but he thinks he fails. “He said I better not hurt you because you deserve nice things. A-and he’s right, but it rubbed me the wrong way.”
Gordon scoffs. “Bloody rich, coming from him,” he agrees, before his hands slip down from James’ shoulders, skating down his arms to take James’ shaking hands in his own. “Are you okay?”
“Just needlessly upset,” James manages to smile, though his eyes are a little too bright to sell it. “I come here expecting a good time and I get both a personal dance and a personal threat from the Flying Scotsman. Not your average evening, I’ll admit.”
Gordon squeezes his hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault, Gordon,” James says, gently squeezing back. “I suppose I was insulted that… that he’d insinuate I’d hurt you on purpose. I care about you far too much for that.”
And-
They both flush at that. That’s the first time either of them has said it plainly.
“That’s… heartening to hear,” Gordon smiles softly at him. “And it only took me turning you into the best ballroom dancer on this island.”
And James laughs. The tension finally draining away, his stomach finally settling. He’s glad Gordon’s holding onto him now, because he feels light, and he wouldn’t want to float away.
“I have to admit it too, then,” Gordon’s practically whispering again, his voice rumbling low, and it makes James shiver. “I’ve… grown quite fond of you, too.”
James steps in a little closer, it just feels right.
“That’s good,” he says.
Then, looking Gordon in the eye then and there, the nerves come crashing back in, and James ducks his head, drops his chin, and starts fiddling with Gordon’s cufflinks instead.
Suddenly, there’s a hand cupping his cheek, and James can’t breathe. Gordon tips his head back up, and smiles at him – all soft and tender, all for James.
“Is this okay?”
“Bah!” James tries to laugh past his dark flush, turning his head away, withdrawing one hand to touch his cheek, he can feel the heat there even through his gloves. “You say that like I haven’t been in love with you for months!”
“Months…?”
James laughs again, bright and embarrassed, before he dares to look back at Gordon. His flush darkens at the painfully fond expression Gordon’s wearing, and James finds himself grinning.
“Just shut up and kiss me,” he says instead.
Gordon – several things cross his face in that moment. A flush of his own. Wonder, awe, tenderness, a little shock, and most importantly – Gordon rolls his eyes fondly and leans down to oblige him.
As their lips slot together, James makes a little noise of contentment, and drapes his arms around Gordon’s neck dreamily. Oh, this is good. This is what James has been dreaming about. Officially, this has been the best investment of dancing lessons James has ever made.
When they break apart for air, and James gets his breath back, he finally invites Gordon around tomorrow for those scones he promised however long ago it was, and Gordon has barely any time to accept before James kisses him again.
And… oh, for god’s sake. They pull apart again at the sound of applause from the doorway, and James turns to see… Edward and Henry, Thomas, Percy, god, even Toby and Henrietta, Emily, Rosie, Molly, Daisy, …is that all four of the Little Westerners? And more. It’s far too big a crowd, and James is suddenly wondering if him and Gordon was some kind of soap opera to the wider North-Western Railway, which makes him flush.
Thomas cups his mouth and hoots, “snog him again!”
James goes to yell back before Gordon pulls him in, and James immediately softens, looking into Gordon’s eyes, and he accepts the kiss Gordon gives him, Gordon wrapping his arms around James and dipping him with ease, and James lets Gordon hold his bodyweight as he frees one hand to lovingly flip off the crowd of onlookers.
They once again receive a round of cheers and applause. James doesn’t care, though, not when he can cling to Gordon and Gordon’s lips can brush his own, and Gordon’s breath can dance over his skin, and Gordon’s hands are on him, and this is real, and they’re…
James tears up.
“I love you,” he whispers, too quiet for anyone but Gordon to hear. “I love you. Thank you for putting up with me.”
“It was no bother, little James,” Gordon says, so very fondly, and James shivers again at the way his voice rumbles when he speaks low and quiet. “I love you too.”
It’s a shame the night has to end. James doesn’t want it to end at all. And here, kissing Gordon under the stars, it almost feels like it never has to.
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thank you for reading! reblogs are always appreciated and feel free to let me know what you think of this ^-^
#ttte#thomas the tank engine#ttte humanized#ttte james#ttte gordon#ttte thomas#ttte edward#ttte flying scotsman#4x5#romantic 4x5#ttte shipping#ttte fanfic#ttte fic#ttte fanfiction#this is the first ttte fic ive been able to write in ages <3 feels pretty good man tbh
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A ttte fanfic where the engines become humans, but they have to start from infancy.
#ttte#thomas and friends#thomas the tank engine#ttte fanfic#mun is weird#mun thoughts#ttte humanized#engines learning how to be human
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Proteus sat on a fallen log and hung his lamp on one of the branches. It was a rather rainy day, but he didn’t mind it. When it rained, all the animals go into hiding leaving him with the forest to himself.
Proteus produced a fishing rod and casted it into the roaring stream below, even though he doesn’t need to eat, he still enjoyed a nice fish dinner once in a while. In fact, he could do with a nice hot fish dinner right now.
He hummed to himself a little tune until a familiar ball of golden light came over to him. It hovered over the log seemingly curious of what he was doing.
“Hello Rusty.” Proteus said to the ball of light, “I see you have decided to take a bit of a break from your engine form, eh?”
The light darted back and forth a little bit as if agreeing with proteus’s words. As much as Rusty enjoyed leaving his engine form in the mortal realm, it did come with some downsides, one of them being that only a portion of his god form is visible in the mortal realm and he couldn’t exactly speak in this form in this realm. But he would admit that he enjoyed being able to fly across the island and see sights that he couldn’t see from the rails.
Proteus smiled at Rusty, “how long do you have until you have to go back?”
Rusty slowly moved methodically above the log, Proteus nodded, “half an hour, I see.” He made room on the log, “you can stay with me here if you want to.”
Rusty hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering onto the log next to proteus, the two sat in silence listening to the rain pattering and the river flowing below them.
#ttte#thomas and friends#ttte humanisation#ttte headcanon#ttte fanart#ttte fanfic#ttte fandom#ttte proteus#ttte rusty#ttte god rusty#ttte au lore#ttte au#fanart#landscape illustration
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Rises the Moon
I wanted to write about my ttte forest guardian au, but like make summn a little sad and bittersweet to do with Edward, I’ve never posted writing on here before so I hope you enjoy
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Edward knew he was old.
He had always been old.
Since he first stepped hoof onto the rough dirt and bare land, he knew he was old. He could feel it in his heart. This time though, as he took his first step onto the shore from which the moon was rising over the ocean behind him, he felt it in his body.
The way his legs protested as his hooves and claws sunk into the wet sand, his movements slow and shaky as he walked further onto the beach and onto the dry land. He bit back a groan, shaking his fur and tail to get rid of the salt water that clung to his body.
It didn’t help that the moon always rose above the ocean, thus dropping poor Edward into the cold water and causing his joints to tense and freeze up.
He steadily made his way across the white sands and up towards the dunes, knowing just beyond that was the start of the forest. The place where he would remain before the moon had to set again.
And then rise.
And then set.
A never ending cycle, something he had been doing for well over thousands of years, since the moon first appeared upon the horizon.
He let out a soft sigh and forced a smile, making his way up the dunes and soon onto coarse grass. Marching across the plains and to the forest, wanting to take refuge amongst the safety of the trees and shrubbery.
Edward noted that the sun was yet to rise, knowing that he’d still set before the sun. ‘Early to rise and early to bed’ is what an old friend once told him, and Edward bit back a snort at that memory.
It was tough remembering humans who had come and gone. Edward never got too close to any of them, but he was always fond of those who stayed, exchanging wisdom and tales with the other creatures.
Another memory struck and Edward paused, letting it take over;
‘I wish I could extend my life like you can’ a human - an old friend he had forgotten the name of - once said to him as they watched the sun dance across the ocean.
‘Why would you say that?’ Edward had asked honestly, confused as to why the human wished to extend their life.
The human had looked up at him, a smile forming. ‘There’s always so much to do, and such little time to get everything done. Living forever seems like a much better choice’
He had sighed, shaking his head as his tail moved to curl around the human. ‘Living for so long isn’t what it’s chalked up to be. You just feel tired after so many years, all worn down.’ Edward warned, frowning down at the human.
‘So why don’t you just lay down, Edward?’
He snapped out of that memory, pushing it down as he pushed forward and forced his aching legs to keep moving, passing the many large trees. Edward could feel his cheeks go red from tiredness and he felt a little pathetic. So old, forcing his body to replace tissue and fur again and again just to extend his life.
Was it all worth it?
To see his friends it was definitely worth it, to watch them grow and interact with him and the world around him. They each had important jobs; James brought the sun and Gordon brought the winds and rains, Henry helped the trees and plants to grow and be healthy, little Percy had his magic to protect them, and Thomas was their saviour.
It was worth it.
It was always worth it.
But Edward was so tired.
He soon reached his favourite small meadow, a little waterfall and stream running through the tall grass and wild flowers, completely untouched by humans.
He let out a sigh of relief and slowly entered the small plain, his hooves and claws heavy and dragging against the ground. His dual ears lowered and his tail trailed after him, splitting apart the tall grasses.
He just felt tired.
As Edward settled himself down, catching his breath and getting into a comfortable position near the waterfall, listening to it trickle, he thought back to the memory. He didn’t have an answer then, unsure of how to answer or what to say but this time he had an answer.
It was okay to lay down. He didn’t have to rise again if he didn’t want to. He was old, too old. The moon would rise and set again without him, and the world would simply move on. New creatures would come and go, and Edward would simply be a fleeting memory.
And so Edward laid his head down, curling it around his front legs and bringing his tail up around his hind legs.
It was okay to stay down, he thought quietly, he had earned this.
When they would find his body in the grasses hours later, it would already be cold, but Edward would look at peace, as if he was merely sleeping. Several wild flowers blooming and wrapping around his prone body - moonflowers in bloom, despite the fact it was day - keeping him grounded and down to earth.
The moon would set without him for the first time, and the creatures would be without their oldest friend for the first time too.
#ttte#ttte fandom#I just felt like hurting y’all today#thomas the tank engine#Ttte forest guardian au#ttte fanfic#ttte edward#edward the blue engine#thomas and friends#ttte au
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Hold Me Fast ~ A 2 x 5 fic
There's another titter, and it seems Edward is otherwise amused, his own cheeks darkening as he sends a teasingly quirked brow the mogul’s way, “Does that surprise you, James? Truly?”
“No!” He blurts far too quickly, like he might be able to preserve some dignity, but it comes out louder and more abashed than he’d like. Because he knows deep down that it really doesn’t surprise him at all. And Edward’s laugh is light and sunny, his eyes softening all over again, “No… Because you’re… well you’re kind! And… and good. And I–”
“Mmmhmm,” Edward hums in that knowing way of his, his smile twitching at the corners, and James swallows, feeling smaller than he is. But it’s different. It’s not humiliating, like when he’s having whatever lesson he has to learn rubbed in his face, or when he’s so terribly sorry for the hurt he’s caused. It’s different, like a lot of things are with Edward.
And that’s just it, isn’t it?
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Wrote this because I couldn't get over how thematically delicious the ropes are in Old Iron, how opposites attract, and how Edward has always been there for James since day one, since he was sick, since he was a runaway, and they've been bound together ever since. With that long, slow-burning kind of love that they don't ever put a name to, but they know it's there, whether they recognize and understand it or not.
#reposting because I'm truly daft#and didn't insert the link#ttte#thomas and friends#ttte james#2 x 5#ttte edward#ttte fanfic#ttte shipping#i wish trains were real#james the red engine#edward the blue engine#jameward#ttte james x edward#5 x 2#they are thematically delicious#beautiful even#gay trains#the railway series#rws#fanfiction
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Wanted to highlight an interesting take on Flying Scotsman and Gordon’s relationship. This entire series is so good! It’s a continuation of the series and a lot of love and dedication is clearly put into this. Please watch the entire series, it definitely feels like the series continued (and did away with Mattel’s meddling and poor writing).
Fair warning, Scotsman is a lot meaner in this series but it’s wonderfully done. Percy’s great in the 3rd episode too, his cheeky Season 1/2 self abounds.
youtube
youtube
youtube
This plotline is still going 💚
#ttte flying scotsman#ttte fanfic#ttte#ttte youtube#ttte gordon#ttte percy#ttte james#ttte edward#Youtube
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The lost express engine
Gordon on his way encounters an engine. At first all seems fine, but then the engine becomes more and more distressed until she suddenly races away into the next station: Bitterfeld.
Let me tell you a story about a lost engine which was even forgotten by her own sisters. Based on the story of a German pacific that met a terrible fate.
The lost express engine
Gordon loved visiting Germany. He was traveling down from Berlin. The night pitch black. Neither moon nor stars were visible. Gordon’s lamps cut through the dark like mighty blades of light. “I can’t wait to see Henry again.”, chuffed the big engine excitedly. Then from afar they heard an engine approaching behind them. Its barking chuffs were deep and powerful. “Who has to haul a train so late at night”, wondered the engine. The noise got louder and soon Gordon’s crew could recognize its shape. It was an 01, the sort which had been rebuilt in East Germany. “Hello”, called out Gordon. The engine looked over and Gordon couldn’t help but feel uneasy. “Hallo”, a female voice responded it was like a whisper. “Where are you heading?” “To Leipzig” “Oh I’m heading there as well, but in Dresden I’ll take on water and rest”, remarked Gordon. “Water”, gasped the other engine, “I… I need water”. Gordon was alarmed. “Hey, stop your engine is running out water”, his driver called over, but no response. “Hilf mir, bitte”, the Black Engine began to whimper. Gordon and his crew shouted and shouted, but the men on the footplate didn’t react. Suddenly the engine accelerated and rushed past Gordon. He gave chase. “You have to stop! You have to stop!”, the blue engine yelled desperately. On the horizon lights of a city appeared. The screeching of the brakes cuts through the air. But to Gordon’s horror he heard the other engine scream in agony: “STOP! STOP! SOMETHING IS WRONG!?!” Then Boom and a gut wrenching scream shatters the nightly silence. “Noooo”, cried Gordon. He slowly crept into the station, but there was nothing. Just silence. Gordon stops. He looks around. The rails were empty. Not even a hint of steam was in the air, beside his own. Only a cold wind that made him shiver “You saw it too, didn’t you”, whispered the engine. “We did”, his crew replied. Gordon slowly continued his journey. In Dresden he took on water, before going to rest in the sheds. Beside him snored Viktoria. She looked just like the engine Gordon had seen.
The next morning Gordon awoke to the other engines chatting and sizzling in their berths. “Good morning, Gordon”, greeted Viktoria him. A warm smile on her smoke box. “We didn’t hear you arrive” “We?”, he looked around and to his shock four other engines that looked just like Viktoria sat in the other berths of the shed. “Are. Are these your sisters?”, Gordon asked rather stunned. “Indeed they are”, chuckled Vicky. “Are you sure those are all your sisters?”, Gordon asked suspiciously. “What do you mean?”, asked the engine right next to Vicky, “Only five of our sort survived” “Oh” “Good Morning, ladies”, chortled Heinrich who had just woken up. Gordon jumped. He hadn’t noticed the massive green pacific. “Don’t be frightened, Gordon. It’s only me”, Heinrich laughed. “Only you, haha so funny scaring me like that”, Gordon scoffed. Heinrich glanced confused at Viktoria who looked equally as helpless. “What has gotten into you”, she asked confused. The other 01s stopped their conversations and looked at Gordon. Gordon with a lump in his throat recalled last night’s event. When he had finished the German engines were pale and gave each other nervous looks. “I think you might have met 01 1516”, Heinrich spoke up with a shaky voice, “I…I met her a couple of times…one time I chased after her and arrived at Bitterfeld before her…” The usually so straight forward and powerful engine stared horrified into the distance. “She…exploded right before my eyes” Gordon couldn’t believe what Heinrich had said, but he felt deep down the big engine was right. But then Gordon frowned: “Viktoria” “Ja- Err yes?” “What was her name?” “Her name? Who’s name?” “The name of engine that died at Bitterfeld”, Gordon pressed her. “I- We-“, her eyes dart to her sisters who just sit there like fish in the water, “We don’t know.” “What?!”, Gordon fumed, “She was your sister!” “That’s enough Gordon”, hissed one of Viktoria’s sisters, “Don’t meddle in our matters. You have kicked up enough dust for the day.” Gordon wanted to retort something, but kept it to himself and decided to just glare at the 01 that had spoken up. She just snorted.
Later Gordon visited Henry who began to ponder after Gordon told him what had happened: “Odd…maybe my driver knows someone who knows that engine’s name” Gordon and Henry explained Johanna Drachenzorn the situation. The young woman had heard of the story of 01 1516. “I’ll see what I can do”, she promised. Throughout the day Gordon couldn’t help, but feel the burning glares of Viktoria’s sisters on his boiler when he met one of them. They didn’t even whistle a quick greeting. This went on until it was Gordon’s time to leave. He sat again with all five 01.5s in the same shed. But to his surprise Johanna Drachenzorn came to the shed, a piece of paper in hand. “I found her name”, she smiles. “You did what?!”, Viktoria gasped and her sisters began to whisper. “Gordon asked me”, Mrs. Drachenzorn continued, “ Do you wanna hear it?” “Yes”, Viktoria was on the verge of tears. “01 1516-2 died in 1977 due to her crew mishandling her leading to a boiler explosion. She went by the name Alix” “Alix…why did we forget her”, Viktoria wept. “It’s okay”, soothed Gordon. The other 01.5s looked down at the rails. “Maybe she can rest now”, one wondered.
This evening Gordon left for Hamburg so he could return to England the following day. And when he approached Bitterfeld he noticed a black shadow sitting on the platform. As he drew closer he recognized the engine. It was Alix softly smiling surrounded by thick clouds of steam. Henry’s driver had shown him a picture of her. So Gordon was sure it was her. “Thank you, Gordon”, she said as he raced past. But as his driver turned to look back. The German express engine was no longer there. Gordon could sense a set of buffers touching his own for a brief second. He lets out a sigh of relief as he puffs along the line. Leaving Bitterfeld behind.
#ttte#thomas and friends#ttte gordon#gordon the big engine#ttte fanfic#ghost stories#ghost engine#Bitterfeld 1977#ttte henry#henry the green engine#Viktoria the motherly engine#ttte oc#akagi’s ocs#my writing#A ghost story for Gordon#Humble Gordon moment#happy halloweeeeeeen
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