#ttte humanization

Darkness enveloped the tank engine as he seemed to spin within the bottomless void. He couldn’t tell up from down, nor left or right, but he could feel his body move like a leaf in the breeze. The thought of moving never came to him, as he lost his ability to think. Drifting, aware yet asleep.

Light pierced the darkness like a spear to the body, the crepuscular rays slipping as blood does on broken flesh. The spear slashed to Thomas’ left as more light filled the room, quickly becoming lost in the sea of flame.

His eyes fluttered to life as he returned to his body, groaning as his senses collected themselves. Weightlessness became a raw, throbbing pain as he was pulled back into himself. He could feel his clothes clinging to his damp body, the smell of oil and sweat pooling into his nose. He winced as the fresh cuts reintroduced themselves, his own blood following after them.

Thomas tried to lurch forward, bracing for when the nausea became a wave of bile, but found himself bound to an old wooden chair. It squeaked as the ropes binding his wrists and ankles strangled the brittle wood. Had he been of sound mind, he would’ve figured that the wood could’ve been worn down enough for him to snap it into pieces. Such is fate, his attention was more focused on his surroundings.

Rusted and bare shelves lined the wall in front of and behind him. Cobwebs clung to corners and walls of the shelves, with renegade strands of silk swaying in the breeze. To his left was a large window, and underneath it lay a small shelf. The streams of moonlight were the only source of light within the storage room, and the draft that followed it was the only source of air. Thomas shivered as a strong breeze tickled his face and chest.

The wall to his right held the key to his escape, a slimy black door that reeked of grease. The nausea reared its ugly head again, threatening to throw whatever remained of Thomas’ breakfast onto his lap. Suddenly, he regretted the extra waffle that Edward had generously given him. The topping of cream and berries were especially a mistake.

No sooner did he return to himself did the door knob jiggle. He swung his head towards the door, half expecting someone he knew. Anything but the alternative. Was he naive to wish for a friend in a strange place? Fears mounted as the door swung inward, obscuring the person that lay just behind it. A man in a mask was Thomas’ first thought, one with a weapon or a cutters torch. He had heard plenty of stories on the Mainland about shady figures stealing engine constructs from their locomotive halves, either to sell them or to cut into them like poultry.

The floorboards creaked under the weight of a great boot, and then another. Step after step the figure entered the room, and Thomas could’ve sworn his eyes had grown too big for their sockets when the figure was revealed.

“Percy?”

Percy closed the door behind him before resuming his brief walk. He stood before the other engine with a sour scowl on his face, teeth on display. The engine’s freckled face lacked the colorful, rosy cheeks that filled any heart that saw them with warmth. Eyes that once melted ice seemed bitter and wrong, a perversion of the highest offense. Thomas knew deep in his iron bones, knew the same way that he knew how to turn his wheels, that the image unnerved him. If only he knew why.

“Percy, where have you been?” Was his first response. “We’ve been looking for you for weeks! What’s going on? Where am I?”

The scoff grew. “Lady above, I forgot how dumb you are.”

Thomas felt the tubes in his boiler twist. “What?”

“I didn’t hit you that hard, did I?” Percy asked himself as he leaned in closer. “You really don’t remember anything? Or are you just stupid?”

“What are you taking about?” Thomas cried as he struggled against the chair. “Percy, this isn’t funny! Let me go!”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” He scoffed. “Even when it’s right in front of you, you still don’t understand. Typical.”

“What am I not getting?” Thomas hissed, fear melting into anger. “What don’t I understand? Stop talking in riddles and tell me!”

“You know exactly what this is about.“ Percy spoke as he stepped back and crossed his arms, looking down at his former friend.

“Thomas, do you remember what life was like before the Reverend Awdry came to Sodor? Before the books, the show, and all the fame?”

Thomas cocked an eyebrow at this, anger still simmering. “Hardly. I was created in 1915, worked at the docks, and got shipped to Sodor by mistake. After that I worked to build the bloody place. How is that important?”

“That,” Percy spoke, pointing at the engine, “is what I’m getting at. Your past is stuck in your shadow, disregarded and forgotten by everyone. Even you can hardly remember it.”

He then pointed back at himself. “It’s the same thing with me, Thomas.”

“What are you on about,” Thomas scoffed, “no one’s forgotten you!”

“For god’s sake do I have to spell it out?” Percy hissed. “Ask any person on this island who Percy the Saddle Tank is and all you get is crickets!”

He leaned forward again, this time drilling a finger deep into Thomas’ chest. The skin was pulled under the protrusion’s weight, and the fingernail struck the bone that lie underneath it. It pinched as it slowly twisted in place.

“I’ve been living in your shadow since those damned books came out,” he growled. “I was just ‘Green Thomas’ or ‘Thomas’ best friend.’ I’m never Percy, I’m always you.”

His face twisted into a deeper scowl. Thomas was sure the wrinkles would be permanent if he frowned any further. “I don’t want to be you. Ever. I want to be me. I want people to know who I am.”

The hand against his chest suddenly took off in flight, smacking Thomas in the chin. The blue engine cried out, only for the hand to swiftly silence him with another firm smack across his face. The feeling of burning bile gaining upwards returned, clinging to the lining in Thomas’ esophagus like a lone climber on Mount Everest.

“After tonight,” he continued, “everyone in Britain will know who I am. Percy Avonside will finally get to enjoy the spotlight!”

The nausea overtook him. He lurched forward with a wet cough and a gag, as if he’d been stricken in the stomach and not his head. A weight had finally crushed him, but instead of the grotesque wave of half eaten carbs and fivers, dribbles of it fell onto his lap.

“Seriously? I thought you were tougher than that.” He scoffed, “Didn’t you used to fist fight the bigger engines for fun?”

“I didn’t know.” Thomas gasped.

Even as the last of whatever concoction was expelled from his mouth lay limp in his lap, proper words were beyond him. He simply stared, wide eyed, at some point between Percy’s hips and the mess in his lap. Sweat continued to form, yet he couldn’t feel the beads glide across his clammy skin. He could see his hands shaking against the ropes.

In all his 80 years of living on this island, he’d never once asked for Percy’s name. His own bloody name. Never once did he ask where he came from or who designed him. He never spoke about family or past relations with who he considered his closest confidant. Is it any wonder he felt so ill when the bell tolled?

Percy merely smiled and sent a chill through his body. “I know. You always were terrible at listening to anything that wasn’t unwavering praise or awe, so I never bothered. You make James look prude.”

His smile grew wider. “But maybe if we did talk, things could’ve been different, better even. A shame, but that’s not my problem anymore. It won’t matter anyways. Like I said, after tonight, no one is going to forget us!”

The slip in wording snapped Thomas out of his trance. He looked to the other engine in confusion. “Us?”

“The diesels,” he explained, “the only engines who listened to me and understood me. When I learned that Topham ignores every plea for a better works, I wanted to help.”

He turned his back to Thomas, glaring at the shelves like he could crumble them with his mind. “I climbed the ranks, and soon I was able to help with their efforts. I helped Den and Dart steal Gordon’s new safety valve-“

“So that Gordon would be out of service.” Thomas finished, remembering the Gresley’s fury at the arrangement. “And place the express right into Diesel 10’s claw.”

Percy turned back to him, another twisted smirk on his face. “So you can listen.”

He turned his body back to Thomas and crossed his arms. “After Gordon, I was allowed to help in other schemes. Stealing parts, sabotaging trains…and snatching Kevin from the Steamworks.”

“But why? What does all of this do?” Thomas demanded.

“It places the rest of the island at a disadvantage,” he explained coldly, “so it’ll force Topham into a position where he can’t argue with us. The diesels will get more trains and a better diesel works or we’ll keep taking.”

“But what happens when he does listen? The diesels will just throw you out! You’re not one of them, they’re just using you!”

“Oh, I’m counting on that,” he laughed, “I know 10, he’d never accept me in his ranks let alone by his side. Not unless I one up him.”

“Percy, he’s the size of a sports lorry in his human form and you want to go toe to toe with him?” He gasped, nausea returning at the prospect of Pinchy being drenched in Percy’s blood.

“Who said I was going to fight him?”

The manic grin on Percy’s face vanished when a knock on the door reverberated through the room. Both engines turned to the noise, and Percy scowled.

“Ey Purse!” Bert called out, “Boss wants you…and our visitor at the turntable!”

“What about Kevin?” Percy questioned. “Didn’t we need a place to put him?”

“The Steamworks crane? Dennis took care of him. He’s all nice and cozy in the oil house.” Bert laughed.

“Damn, I can’t believe he actually did something!” Percy whispered to himself. “We’ll be out soon!” He yelled back.

“Percy please,” Thomas begged, “This isn’t going to turn out how you think. People are going to get hurt. You’ll get hurt!”

The green engine scoffed. “Thomas the only thing you have to worry about is how far 10 is going to throw you across the room.“

He leaned in closer, and spoke in a hushed yet jaded voice. “He’s still angry over Lady.”

As Percy leaned upright, Thomas could only stare at him with sad, pleading eyes. The green engine took in the sight of Britain’s most recognizable engines weeping in the face of his own mortality. The teeth within death’s jaws had grazed his skin, and he burrowed his way to safety, only to have those jaws bite down on the scruff of his neck and pull him out of the rabbit hole. The shelter that he had made had became his tomb.

“I’ll be back,” Percy scoffed as he turned to the door. “Don’t think I’m going to let you out without any restraints. Arry and Bert are gonna get a kick out of this!”

“Percy, wait!”

Pleas for freedom fell on deaf ears as Percy slammed the door shut. A gust of air smacked Thomas in the face, his hair pulled by the current before falling to rest on the base of his neck.

Fear had crawled its way back to Thomas’ mind, shredding any sensible plan that he could think of. Percy will be back any second now with Arry and Bert. He will be dragged out before the diesels like a lamb to the slaughter, and will likely be slaughtered and used as a chew toy for Pinchy. All while Percy watched.

The chair wobbled as Thomas tried again to break the bonds that held him. Rope fibers broke as they were dragged across splintering wood, snapping like twigs. He was quickly regretting rolling his sleeves up for the day, as the bare skin was repeatedly sliced against the armrest. He cried out as a notably large splinter had pierced his arm, bathing itself in black blood. Tears streaked his face but he didn’t yield. He would not submit, not without a fight.

Suddenly a rope gave way, lying limp across the armrest. Vigor renewed, his struggle against the binds became greater. The creaking of the chair grew louder, but none could hear it over Thomas’ growls of frustration and grit. Another length of rope fell to the floor.

Just outside the door, two engines waited with more ropes. One reached for the handle, and twisted.

Oooh boy I got some things to explain.

First things first, this blog.

My key mistake with it was thinking I had to make stuff constantly in order to keep people interested like some sort of content mill. Spoiler alert, don’t ever fucking do this, that’s how I got burned out in this fandom (and other bullshit but I won’t touch that). So from here on out, I’m starting over. I’m not deleting anything for prosperity’s sake, but everything before 2025 is officially not canon. I’m also not abandoning any of my old aus, I just need to keep working on them as I haven’t touched them in a while.

I plan on redoing a lot of stuff, now that I’m more confident in my skills and that I’ve remembered that I’m a person, not a machine. I make art, not content, and I want to be able to put my best foot forward without worrying about numbers. If you’re young and are wanting to make stuff like this, do yourself a favor and keep this affirmation in mind. You’re making art, not content. It’s one of the best things I’ve learned to do.

But enough about me, onto the stuff you want to read!

So in the time between my last post and now, I’ve been taking a bunch of literature classes as part of my degree. Upon rereading my old fics for shits and giggles, I somehow got possessed by the Productivity Demon and decided to rewrite one of my favorites.

Bionical 3: Web of Shadows completely rewired 9 year old me’s brain, and I’ve been obsessed with good guys turning bad ever since (Especially if it’s similar to Vakama’s villain arc). I really wanted to play into that trope with Percy without outright explaining everything. Most of the fic is dialogue based, but there’s still details hidden between the lines for readers to find.

I also wanted to show Percy’s motives for going evil and his decent. The original fanfic did most of this, but it was presented hap hazardly and kinda boring in my opinion (but I’m always critical on my own work cuz I want to be a writer so I may be biased lmao). I’m really happy with how smooth the transitions are here, as it adds to the flow of the fanfic and keeps the reader invested.

The biggest thing for me is that there’s way more imagery here than the original. That was definitely the biggest sin of that piece, so that was my major focus. As to why I didn’t redraw the original art that came with the fanfic, I just wanted to try something different. I think the autograph works well plus I love my new Thomas design. That, and I’m still working on a new Percy design. I wanted to get this done before the semester started and I’m too impatient to wait until I’m happy with my idea for Percy.

On an unrelated note this post marks the first time I’ve used the music button thing! I thought you needed a Spotify to use it but apparently you don’t! ‘Two Hearts’ kinda fits the vibe (but not exactly), but I didn’t know any other songs off the top of my head. In any case, I’m definitely using it more often now!

Special shoutout again to quacktypewriter for the adorable dividers and to puffpal7 for the idea way back in 2023!