#mean-scarlet-deceiver

[konnosaurus]

uh oh! it's donald without douglas!!

i've had that wonderful au (original post here by @galinneall-dearg, omg go look everyone if you have not already!!! plus further writing by @mean-scarlet-deceiver here, here and here!!! and a fic set on ao3 by TheWhiteShellMermaid here!!) stuck in my head for a while, and when i was doodling douglas it suddenly appeared full force in my brain and required drawing hehehe.

i've gone for a sliiightly darker tone where douglas doesn't make it, but he still watches over his bro as he begins to make his new life in sodor!!

[thenecropolix]

I'm sure there's already fics of this, but I feel like it'd be fun to read a 5 times +1 fic of the engines' crews realizing that dealing with their engines is not unlike dealing with a toddler; there's something amusing to me about how despite most of these engines being 50+ years old, they occasionally (coughfrequentlycough) display childlike wonder and behavior over things we humans might consider trivial or common knowledge

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 29-Rise Above

Traintober 2023

Other Stories

Day 29-Out of Service

Rise Above

Henry had almost missed her. He was tired, and more than ready to begin the long trip back to Sodor. The news he was being diverted south and would have to make the climb up the infamous incline had only further exhausted him. She sat on the out-of-use siding, her black paint faded to a dull worn gray. It had been decades since he last saw her, long before his rebuild, but he recognized her nonetheless.

He stopped beside the LBSCR B4, wondering idly if she was the last of her class, and what to say to her.

"Hello Linda." He settled for.

The 4-4-0 looked up in confusion at the Black 5 before her, before her mouth twisted into a smirk, "I know they said I'd go crazy in the sidings but I didn't think it would happen this fast.

Henry scowled at her, "You weren't exactly sane to start with."

She barked out a genuine laugh, "Fair enough Jumbo. Nobody on the North Western was sane."

He went to snap back, but then he thought about it.

 "Fair enough," He grumbled

She smirked at him, "What's wrong Jumbo? Don't tell me you're not happy to see me after all this time?"

He glared at her continued use of the nickname. "You don't exactly bring up happy memories."

She paused, a hurt look on her face, "I never treated you any differently from anyone else."

Henry snorted, "Does that matter when you insult everyone?...well everyone but Thomas."

The 4-4-0 hesitated "How is..."

Henry sighed, 'of course.'

"You're favorite little gremlin has a branchline of his own. If you asked him it's the most important part of the railway."

"Of course it is, they gave it to him after all." She said fondly.

Henry tried not to feel bitter, Linda and Thomas had just clicked, and he knew the tank engine considered the 4-4-0 his big sister.

"And how have you been Jumbo?"

Henry blinked, as he was interrupted in his musings. 

"What?"

Linda rolled her eyes, "How are you?" We were hardly close back then, but we were shedmates?" She looked over his new form slowly, "you look far better than when I last saw you."

"My firebox was too small like you said," he admitted, "they tried me on Welsh coal, but then I had an accident in 34..."

"Hatt had you rebuilt," she said, unable to hide her envy.

"At Crewe... Gordon as well a few years later."

Linda laughed, "Oh I bet the great tosser hated that."

Henry chuffed a small laugh, "he was less than thrilled."

She smiled sharply, "He's gonna hate that you told me."

"That alone makes it worth it."

"He's still that bad?" She chuckled disbelievingly.

"No," Henry admitted. "He's much better now... but he's still Gordon."

"I can imagine," she said, amusement still coloring her tone.

She considered Henry seriously, "It was good seeing you big green." She said genuinely. "I'd thought I'd never see any of you again "

"I enjoyed seeing you again more than I expected."

"It probably helps you're finally whole and strong and I'm in an out-of-use siding." She said dryly.

Henry didn't reply.

She sighed, "Will you do me a favor, Henry?"

Henry raised an eyebrow at her use of his actual name, "go ahead."

"Will you tell Thomas I'm proud of him?"

"Of...of course." 

"Thanks, big green... It looks like your train is ready."

Sure enough, the final cars were being shunted into his goods train back to Sodor.

"See you, Big Green."

"Goodbye, Linda."

He rolled forward, his thoughts whirling. He finally stopped with a sigh, 'Blast it all, I can't leave her.'

The yard manager walked up, "Is everything alright No.3? Your train is ready."

Before his crew could respond Henry spoke, "I'm looking for my banker."

"Your banker?"

Henry raised an eyebrow, channeling as much of Gordon into the expression as he could, "Surely you weren't thinking of sending me up the incline with over 50 trucks without a banker."

"Oh well, you see..."

"You do realize if my train was to stall on the incline, it would delay the traffic for the entire region."

"Yes, but we don't have any engines to spare!" The yard manager blurted out.

Henry's driver thankfully understood and leaned out of the cab, "What about the B4 in the siding?"

The manager blinked, "the 4-4-0? Her fires not even lit!"

"But she could have steam by the time we hit the hill?"

The manager nodded, "Aye...she could. If you can find someone to crew her you can use her, you can send her back with the next train back this way."

Henry's relief crew soon had her fire lit as Henry backed down to couple up to her.

"Big Green?" She said in bewilderment.

"You're helping me up the incline."

"I see you've finally lost what little sense you had?"

Younger Henry would have grit his teeth, thirty years on Sodor meant he just rolled his eyes, "Just hush and come along, I'm not putting up with the little pest moping because you're gone again."

Linda smiled, "Oh big green, you do care." She teased.

"To my great regret," both knew he didn't mean it as he set off with his train and his former shedmate in tow.

A/N: Linda is @mean-scarlet-deceiver's OC, who I have been given permission to use in my AU. This is not their canon ending for her in their 'Quiet Little Island Railway' Au, merely what happens to her in my AU.

[lynbels]

25 jungwon pls pls pls

looks deceive - yjw (m)

#25: The quiet nerd turns out to be anything but shy, using your body like it’s his.

pairing: jungwon x reader - prompt req list

synopsis: You spent months teasing Jungwon for being the quiet nerd in class—until one night he finally snapped, and you learned exactly how wrong you were about him. ✉️ 3782wc

‼️tw: slight bullying, dubcon vibes, dominance, manhandling, degradation (light), oral (m receiving), rough sex, creampie, praise, possessiveness, spanking, slight hair pulling, unprotected sex (wrap ur willies guys)

💌: no because I totally imagine this happening good jungwon by day evil jungwon by night 😈

You weren’t a mean girl, not really. Just…a little playful. Maybe a little too playful when it came to the nerdy boy who sat in the back of your Chemistry class.

Yang Jungwon.

Blonde hair always perfectly parted, button-down shirts always ironed stiff, and those stupid little glasses perched on the bridge of his nose—he was practically begging for it. He didn’t even talk back when you and your friends joked about him. He just sat there, quietly scribbling formulas with that pretty hand of his, pretending not to hear the way you laughed.

“You think he’s a robot or something?” your friend Hana giggled one afternoon, chin propped on her hand as she watched Jungwon flip through his notes. “Bet he’s never even held a girl’s hand.”

You snickered behind your palm. “Held? I bet he’d pass out if a girl even looked at him for too long.”

It wasn’t personal. It was harmless, you told yourself. Jungwon was just…so easy to tease. Always so quiet, so polite, so desperately nerdy. He wore khaki pants for god’s sake. Khakis. In high school.

Sometimes you’d catch him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking—soft, wide-eyed stares, like he couldn’t believe you were real. It only made it funnier. You’d smile sweetly at him on purpose, wave too enthusiastically, lean a little too close when asking him a question during group projects, just to watch his face flush scarlet and his glasses fog up.

The poor boy was so easy to break.

And you weren’t the only one who noticed. Your whole group kind of adopted it as a game at this point: how fast could you fluster Jungwon? How pink could you get his cheeks? How many stuttered responses could you collect like trophies?

“He’s like…a pet,” your other friend Minji whispered one time after a pop quiz. You had just tapped Jungwon’s shoulder and thanked him (loudly) for “helping you study”—which he hadn’t—and the boy had practically short-circuited on the spot. “Like a little lost puppy.”

You’d laughed then, flipping your hair over your shoulder, feeling every bit the queen bee you were supposed to be. Jungwon was safe. Harmless. He wasn’t like the cocky jocks or the bad boys you flirted with sometimes—he was soft, easy to control, easy to tease.

Or at least…that’s what you thought.

Until one afternoon, everything changed.

You were sitting at your desk, lazily twirling a pen between your fingers, when you felt a shadow fall across your table. You looked up, blinking.

It was Jungwon.

He stood stiffly in front of you, clutching a neatly organized folder to his chest like a shield. His blonde hair was slightly messy today, a few strands falling across his forehead. His glasses slipped down his nose a little, and he pushed them up nervously with one finger.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Lost, Jungwon?”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something—but then stopped, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. His hands fidgeted against the folder, knuckles white from how tightly he gripped it. You could see the tips of his ears turning red.

Cute.

“I, uh…” He coughed lightly, adjusting his glasses again. “I…thought you might need help. For the chemistry assignment. Since…you asked…before.”

You blinked.

You hadn’t actually asked him for help—you’d teased him about it, sure, but it was all in good fun. You were popular, and smart enough to get by without tutoring from the class nerd. But now, standing there in front of you, Jungwon looked so serious. So determined, despite how nervous he clearly was.

You could feel Minji and Hana watching from across the room, barely containing their laughter. You gave them a quick glance—watch this—before turning back to Jungwon with your most dazzling smile.

“That’s sweet, Jungwon,” you said, voice dripping honey. “You’re worried about me?”

He flushed deeper, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I just…you seemed like you might…um…need help.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hold back a laugh. God, he was so easy.

Leaning forward on your elbows, you rested your chin in your hand and looked up at him through your lashes. “Are you offering to be my private tutor?”

His lips parted slightly, like the words got stuck in his throat. His glasses fogged a little again. “I—uh—I guess. If you want.”You smiled wider, loving the way his voice shook.

“Aw,” you cooed mockingly, loud enough for your friends to hear. “You’re so sweet, Jungwon. Are you always this nice to girls who bully you?”

Behind you, Hana snickered into her hand.

For a moment, Jungwon didn’t say anything. He just stood there, folder clutched tight to his chest, face burning. His eyes flickered to your mouth for a second—so quick you almost missed it—and then dropped to the floor again.

You tilted your head, smirking. So predictable.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” you added, voice low enough that only he could hear it. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you buy me coffee after tutoring too.”

He said nothing. Just nodded stiffly, turned on his heel, and practically fled to the other side of the room.

You and your friends broke into giggles immediately.

“Poor thing’s gonna have a heart attack,” Minji whispered, wiping a tear from her eye. “Y/N, you’re evil.”

You smiled lazily, twirling your pen again. It was just harmless fun. Jungwon would never do anything about it. He was too shy, too sweet.

He’d stay quiet. Like he always did.

…Right?

You didn’t think about it much when you got the text later that day.

[unknown number]: you forgot your textbook. rm 3b.

[unknown number]: i can bring it if u want.

You stared at the messages, confused for a second—until you realized it had to be Jungwon. Of course it was. Who else would be that polite about a stupid forgotten book?

You texted back a half-hearted ok, already smirking to yourself. God, he’s desperate, you thought. He was really going out of his way for you now. It was almost pathetic.

You made your way to Room 3B after the last bell, the hallway practically deserted. Most people had already left for the day, leaving only the low hum of distant footsteps and the occasional squeak of sneakers on tile.

When you pushed open the door, the room was dim, the late afternoon sun spilling in long, golden streaks across the floor.

And there he was.

Jungwon stood by your desk, your chemistry textbook in hand, head bowed slightly. His blonde hair caught the light, making it look almost soft around the edges. He wasn’t wearing his blazer anymore—just the white button-up, the sleeves pushed up a little—and it made him look…different. More casual. More real.

You stepped inside lazily, the door clicking shut behind you.

“Wow,” you teased lightly, crossing your arms. “You really take your job as my tutor seriously, huh?”

He didn’t laugh.

Didn’t even smile.

He just looked up at you—and for the first time, you noticed something different in his eyes. Something that made your skin prickle a little.

He wasn’t nervous.

Not anymore.

“You forgot this,” he said simply, voice low and even.

You walked closer, letting your bag slide off your shoulder onto a chair. “Thanks, Professor Jungwon,” you joked, reaching for the book.

But instead of handing it to you, he held onto it—just out of reach.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

For a second, he just looked at you, head tilted slightly like he was studying something.

Then he smiled.

Not the shy, awkward smile you were used to.

No, this one was slower. Lazier. A smile that knew things. Dangerous things.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he said, voice still light but edged with something sharper underneath. “Messing with me. Laughing at me with your little friends.”

You blinked, heart skipping once, confused. This wasn’t…this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“I mean…” you said slowly, trying to summon that same teasing tone. “Maybe a little?”

Jungwon stepped closer.

You instinctively backed up—only to feel the desk press against the backs of your thighs.

You opened your mouth to say something else—to crack another joke, maybe, to turn the moment back into something safe—but before you could, he set the textbook down carefully on the desk beside you.

And caged you in with both hands, palms flat against the wood.

You stared up at him, breath caught.

His eyes, usually so soft, were burning now. Sharp and focused, like he was seeing right through you. His body was so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, suffocating, dizzying.

“You think you can just say whatever you want to me,” he said softly, so close you could feel his breath fan across your lips. “Laugh at me. Flirt with me. Make me look like a fool.”

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body standing on end.

“I—It was just a joke,” you said quickly, but your voice wavered.

Another slow, dangerous smile.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “Well, here’s the thing, Y/N.”

He leaned down, mouth brushing your ear.

“I’m done being the joke.”

You froze, your whole body tensing, but Jungwon didn’t give you any time to think.

One hand slid from the desk to your waist, fingers digging in just hard enough to make you gasp. He pressed his body closer, chest against yours, so you could feel just how much bigger and stronger he really was.

“You’re so loud usually,” he whispered, voice smooth and dark against your ear. “Where’s all that attitude now, huh?”

You squirmed, but it only made him grip you tighter, pinning your hips against the desk.

“You thought you were in control,” he murmured, dragging the tip of his nose down the side of your throat, inhaling like he could smell your fear. “Laughing with your friends. Acting like you were better than me.”

You whimpered—quiet and unintentional—and he chuckled low in his chest.

“Not so funny now, is it?”

Slowly, torturously slow, he trailed his hand up your side, brushing under the hem of your shirt, fingertips feather-light against your bare skin. Your breath hitched, and he smiled against your neck.

“You like this,” he said quietly, almost like he was marveling at the realization. “You like when I’m mean to you.”

You shook your head automatically, but Jungwon just laughed again, dark and soft.

“Liar.”

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes were molten now, dark and hungry, and you shivered under the weight of his stare.

“I should make you beg,” he whispered, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Make you apologize for being such a little brat.”

Your lips parted, desperate to say something—anything—but no words came out.

“You gonna be good for me now?” he asked, almost gently, dragging his thumb slowly across your bottom lip. “Or do I have to teach you a lesson?

You whimpered again, nodding weakly.

His smile widened, all sharp teeth and dangerous promise.

“Good girl.”

Without warning, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you up onto the desk, spreading your legs with his knees. The sudden movement made you squeak, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance, but he didn’t let you go—he loomed over you, hands gripping your waist possessively, like he owned you.

“Show me,” Jungwon said, voice so soft it barely made a sound. “Get on your knees.”

You blinked up at him, heart racing, and whispered back without thinking, “W-What?”

He just stared down at you, unblinking, fingers tightening at your waist like a warning.

“On your knees,” he repeated, firmer now, and when you hesitated for half a second longer, he grabbed your chin and guided you down slowly, almost gentle, until your knees hit the floor with a quiet thud against the carpet.

“Jungwon…” you whispered again, voice small, but he didn’t budge.

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Pretty,” he murmured. “So pretty when you’re quiet.”

You bit your lip, cheeks burning, and breathed out shakily, “I-I don’t know what you want me to do…”

A small, dangerous smile played on his lips. “You’ll figure it out.”

With slow, deliberate movements, he unbuckled his belt, the soft clink making your stomach twist in anticipation. You couldn’t look away—couldn’t even think—your mouth already watering slightly as he tugged his jeans down just enough, freeing his cock, hard and thick and leaking at the tip.

You whimpered, staring, and your thighs instinctively pressed together.

“You want it, don’t you?” he whispered, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

You nodded frantically, voice barely a breath. “Y-Yeah… I want it.”

“Then open up,” he ordered, and his voice was so calm it made your whole body shudder.

You parted your lips obediently, heart thundering, and he slid the tip against your tongue, teasing you slowly, making you feel every inch.

“Good girl,” he praised in a low growl. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.”

You whimpered again, looking up at him through your lashes, desperate to make him proud, desperate for him to keep saying those things to you.

“You’re so good, Jungwon,” you whispered around him, voice muffled and needy.

A dark flush colored his cheeks at your praise, but he didn’t let up, sliding deeper with slow, shallow thrusts, one hand threading into your hair to hold you there.

“That’s it,” he murmured, hips rocking slowly. “Such a good little mouth… made for me.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes from the stretch, but you forced yourself to stay still, to let him use you like he wanted. You wanted it. You wanted him.

“You look so good like this,” he breathed. “Bet you never thought you’d end up on your knees for me, huh?”

You whined around him, the humiliation and heat rushing through your body too much to handle.

“Didn’t know you’d be so mean,” you managed to mumble out when he pulled back a little, your voice wrecked and breathless.

He chuckled lowly, thumb brushing away a tear that slid down your cheek.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of, baby,” he whispered.

You nodded, so desperate, so wrecked already. “Please…” you whimpered. “Please, Jungwon… I want you…”

His jaw flexed, his control visibly snapping.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hips jerking forward as he pushed deeper into your mouth, making you choke slightly.

You pulled back with a gasp, panting, and he immediately stroked your hair gently, calming you.

“Shh. You’re doing so good, pretty girl,” he praised. “You’re perfect.”

You looked up at him, tears in your lashes, spit glistening on your lips.

“I want to be good for you,” you said, voice wobbling.

“You already are,” he whispered, dragging his cock slowly across your tongue again.

You shivered, feeling your whole body light up at his words.

He tightened his grip in your hair, sliding himself back into your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts, using you like he had every right to.

And you let him. Whimpering, obeying, looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

Because he owned you now. And you didn’t want it any other way.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Jungwon yanked you up from the floor, strong hands gripping your waist and shoving you back against the couch. His body pressed flush against yours, caging you in.

“You’re not done,” he muttered, voice low and dark in your ear. “I’m not done.”

You whimpered, nodding without even thinking, your thighs squeezing together at the way he looked at you — like he was starving and you were the only thing he could eat.

He grabbed your chin roughly, tilting your head up so you couldn’t look away from him. His eyes, usually so soft and sunny, were blown wide and black with hunger.

“Look at you,” he whispered, breath hot against your cheek. “Already fucked out and I haven’t even gotten started.”

You tried to say something—tried to beg—but he didn’t give you the chance. In one swift movement, he manhandled you onto the couch, forcing you onto your back, and tugged your panties down your legs without ceremony.

“Spread those legs for me, pretty,” he murmured, voice steady but ragged with want.

You did, shakily, heart pounding so hard you could barely breathe.

He tugged his jeans down just enough, cock hard and leaking, and lined himself up without warning. You felt the blunt, thick head of him pressing against your entrance, and your breath caught.

“You ready?” he rasped.

You nodded desperately, nails digging into the cushions.

“Use your words,” he ordered, tapping the inside of your thigh sharply.

“Please,” you gasped out. “Please, Jungwon, I want it—need it—”

That was all he needed.

He slammed into you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and you screamed — high-pitched and choked, the stretch overwhelming. Your whole body arched off the couch at the sudden, merciless intrusion.

“Fuck, so tight,” he hissed through gritted teeth, holding himself still for a second, letting you feel every inch of him. “Feels too good. Gonna fuck you so stupid, baby.”

You sobbed, legs trembling around his hips, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled out halfway and slammed back in hard enough to make the couch creak beneath you. Again. Again. Hard and deep and punishing, every thrust knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“You wanted to tease me?” he grunted, voice still soft and deadly in your ear. “Wanted to be a brat in front of your little friends?”

You nodded frantically, whimpering, barely coherent under the relentless pace.

“Bet you don’t feel so cocky now, huh?” he whispered, punctuating every word with another deep thrust.

You tried to answer but all that came out was a broken moan.

He chuckled low under his breath, slowing down just enough to drag himself out painfully slow before slamming back in to the hilt, making you cry out.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he licked a tear off your cheek and murmured, “Poor thing. Too much?”

You shook your head wildly, clinging to him.

He kept going until your whole body was trembling, until your nails carved angry red lines down his back, until you were sobbing his name like it was the only word you knew.

Finally, when your legs gave out completely and you sagged into the cushions, he slowed. His hands gentled, cradling you.

Wordlessly, he pulled you into his lap, your thighs straddling his hips. His cock still heavy and hard between your legs, pressed against your soaked folds.

He cupped your face in both hands, smoothing your hair back, and kissed you so softly it almost hurt. You whimpered into his mouth, desperate for him.

“You still want it?” he whispered against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathed, voice wrecked and trembling. “Please.”

He guided you down onto him slowly this time, letting you feel every thick inch stretch you open again.

You gasped, clinging to his shoulders, tears brimming in your lashes again from the slow, aching fullness.

“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Take all of it. You’re doing so good.”

He rocked you on his cock gently, holding you close, whispering filthy things in your ear the whole time.

“Feel how deep I am, baby? You were made for this… made for me to fuck you like this.”

You whimpered, biting his shoulder to muffle your sobs of pleasure as he guided your hips, slow and deep and overwhelming.

“Never teasing me again,” he whispered, smiling against your hair. “Not unless you want this.”

You nodded desperately, grinding down against him, so full you could barely think.

“You’re mine to fuck,” he murmured, dragging his cock against that sensitive spot inside you, making you jolt in his lap. “Mine to ruin.”

You came apart in his arms, sobbing his name into his shoulder, shaking and gasping. He held you through it, never stopping, whispering praise into your ear until you completely fell apart.

And when he finally followed, spilling deep inside you with a low groan, he didn’t move away.

He just held you, rocking you gently in his lap, brushing kisses across your temple, your jaw, your mouth.

Like he hadn’t just broken you completely.

Like he was never gonna let you go.

The next morning, you could still feel it — a dull, delicious ache between your thighs with every step you took. Your body was sore, your neck littered with faint bruises you tried—and failed—to cover with makeup, and your heart raced every time you even thought about Jungwon.

Which was a problem. Because you were sitting across from him in class, and he kept sneaking little glances at you from behind his glasses, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips whenever your eyes met.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, clenching your thighs together under the desk, cheeks burning.

“What’s up with you?” one of your friends whispered, elbowing you in the side during lecture.

“Huh? N-nothing,” you stammered, staring down at your notes so hard the lines blurred together.

Another girl leaned over. “Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

“I don’t,” you protested weakly, adjusting your jacket to hide the faint purple marks blooming down your throat.

They weren’t convinced.

“You’re acting weird,” the first girl said, wrinkling her nose. “Like…all shy and jumpy. Did something happen?”

“No,” you said too quickly, glancing instinctively at Jungwon.

You caught him looking again — but this time, he didn’t look away. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, slow and deliberate, and your stomach flipped.

Oh god.

Your friends caught that look.

They turned, following your gaze, and their jaws dropped.

“Wait. No freaking way,” one of them whispered, half-laughing. “You’re into him?!”

“I—” You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

The other girl snorted. “Since when do you like nerds?”

You shrank into your seat, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. Especially when Jungwon leaned back in his chair casually, spreading his thighs just a little wider under the desk — like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering in your throat.

“Bet he’s not that nerdy when he’s alone with her,” one of your friends joked under her breath, laughing.

Your face flamed.

And across the room, Jungwon smiled lazily at you, like a wolf who knew his prey wasn’t going anywhere.

prompt request list

[marsmarvel02]

I have no idea how to begin this post. I’m shocked no one else on Tumblr has made it before me, since this news came out February.

But…

Starting “later this year” (no explicit date), Google will begin using AI to detect “minors lying about their age” (accounts that claim to be 18+ but aren’t.)

This is based on what you search, and the videos you watch on YouTube.

If you are an adult who watches things aimed at teenagers on YouTube- your account will be incorrectly flagged as “lying” and you will be, immediately and automatically, locked down. Restricted Mode on YouTube with no way to deactivate it, SafeSearch always on full force, privileges suspended.

It gets worse. If Google thinks you are under 13- the minimum age to have an account- it will, after a brief delay, DELETE YOUR ACCOUNT.

If you are a fan of a children’s show- say Thomas the Tank Engine, Super Wings, or Handy Manny- or even one aimed at “older” kids like Big City Greens- YOU ARE IN DANGER.

So… what can you do?

As far as anyone knows, the tracking is account-based, so if you browse or watch children’s content while signed out you should be safe.

WRITE TO GOOGLE. Tell them how displeased you are. Do not use “nice” words- they do not deserve them.

Search for alternatives to Google Chrome, Google Search, and every function an account can provide. Type these queries into the search engine a few more times than usual, to give them a little heart attack. They deserve it.

SPREAD THIS NEWS. Not just on Tumblr- spread it on every platform you have. And real life is a platform, too.

If you speak more languages than just English, translate this warning- this is coming to the US first, but that doesn’t mean it won’t eventually spread to the rest of the world.

And finally, WARN YOUR FRIENDS WHO MIGHT BE VULNERABLE TO THIS. To that extent, I’ll be tagging:

@ll-the-biohazards-ll @kylievershion @smashedatoms @roxyteal @hexamoron @nintendonut1 @agathazinha2009 @octoariadneeeeexoxo @dischiantoaster @rocket-powered-socket @tiffanyelectricity @castorfell @kittyundercover1 @joezworld @mean-scarlet-deceiver @funky-boat-zone @bogleech @great-green-hunslet @choc-ice-on-wheels @thosesillytrains @just-another-miserable-prick @bruhstation @6lovelytenders @kidlit-queen-competition @projectanimations @ladymiraclewings @stormvanari @object-obsession @vroomizing @missd476 @masterj @spaceboid @number1spongebobfan @ohmystarrynight @rouxipanda @thomasthetankengine-1 @ask-the-tool-gang @colorfullaudino @darkcrafter @solarbeingash

[tendedwinner748]

Some of my personal favourite voices from the Japanese Thomas dub

Tagging @mean-scarlet-deceiver at their request

[edwards-exploit]

Mere seconds after the outburst, Thomas whistled with incongruous cheer — and brought back the first half of the rake humming.    He was merrily oblivious to Toby and Henrietta exchanging worried looks.

rereading Small World by @mean-scarlet-deceiver again and I'm having feelings. Oh, Thomas...

[joezworld]

Express Engines

So, recently some friends of mine (@sparkarrestor chief among them) finally got me to watch some TTTE fan videos on youtube. I really never got into that stuff - I’m “an old” by Tumblr standards, and my first exposure to TTTE fan video content was back in the days of wooden models filmed with potatoes, and Trainz productions that still had the Fraps logo onscreen. Things were dire, and I never bothered to really investigate further in the intervening decade+. Watching it now, I’m absolutely astounded by the level of quality and skill that a lot of people on youtube have gotten up to. I find writing to be tedious and slow, but at the least I get a few new paragraphs or pages at the end of each night to read back through. Filmmaking, especially the animated stuff that these people are making, is such a long game that I don’t think I could stand it. 

One of the first things that Sparks (and @weirdowithaquill) showed me was Rhydyronen’s Express Engines, the superbly made adaptation of the second book in Sodor Island Forum’s (SiF) Extended Railway Series. (ERS)  I could honestly go on about the production quality and filmmaking skill involved in this for some time, but I feel as though after a while it would stop being constructive responses and more just me pointing at the screen and mumbling things about camera movements, so I’ll relent for right now. Just assume that I really enjoyed it and keep coming back to it.  

(That being said, watching “Fourth Time Unlucky” and “Keeping Up With Castle” made me feel like my third eye was opening several different times. I had no idea that some of the filmmaking techniques in this were even possible, especially the big conversation set piece in Fourth Time Unlucky.)

---

All that being said… I do have quite a few issues with the story itself. Not the cinematography, the animation, or the voice acting, but the heart of this work - the script. It’s not a problem with Rhydyronen, the creator, instead it’s something inherent to the work itself. 

Allow me to explain:

SiF’s ERS was very formative to me as “a young,” entering the fandom in the late -00s and early -10s. I read literally of them, and even went through the long-since-retconned V1 archive that is still present on the “Your Own Railway Series Style Stories” page. There’s a non-zero chance that I know more about this series of works than anyone who isn’t an active or former contributor to the ERS. Even to this day, I check in every other Saturday to see what they’ve put out. A lot of my works are based in no small part on the real world setting of Sodor-in-the-present that they’ve done. It’s a huge part of my life, and even if I never log in to the site again, its influence will hang over my life for years or even decades to come.

There’s just one problem with all of this: The ERS is, from a very fundamental standpoint, bad. 

I don’t mean this in a critical “this is terribly written” way - far from it, in fact. The real issue with the ERS is more fundamental: they created a world, a rich tapestry of words and stories, that draws from the works of Wilbert and Christopher Awdry… and then they made it profoundly miserable to be in. 

Now, this is not a bad thing, as @mean-scarlet-deceiver has rather masterfully written, but with SiF, it’s a more cloying and existential form of misery that doesn’t really do anything or go anywhere. Sodor is on its face a normal place to live, like any other part of England, but read almost any story and you will find things happening that seem to go against the grain of most TTTE fic writers, but also of just basic understandings of human decency. 

Starting off from the beginning, ERS book 42 Evan the Private Engine is a great example of what I’m talking about. Evan, the titular engine, is a privately owned narrow gauge engine operating on the Skarloey Railway. At one point, many years ago, he broke down and was abandoned by his owner in situ. Now, for everyone who is a dyed in the wool TTTE fan like me, search your feelings and think of what happens to this engine next. Is he adopted by the Skarloey engines? Do they re-home him somewhere else? Is this actually a story being told by Skarloey to the other engines? Vote now on your phones. 

[Buzzing noise] Wrong answer! What actually happens is that Evan is left where he is for so long that everyone forgets about him, and he’s covered in the overgrowth out by the lake. When he’s discovered “many years later,” he’s lost his memory, and will never get it back. 

This is the first book in the ERS. I told @lswro2-222 about this and she’s still mad about it. 

Things do not improve from there. The ERS is filled with countless stories of: 

Engines being forgotten about for decades, (ERS #152 – Scrapyard Engines) 

Engines being threatened with scrapping after suffering from mechanical issues (ERS #58 – Brave Mountain Engines)

When said engine (quite reasonably) tries to ensure their place on the railway by sabotaging someone else, they’re sent away for scrap anyways (ERS #70 – Norman the Mountain Engine)

Engines rather abruptly deciding to leave the island of Sodor, for almost no in-text reason. (ERS #221 – Dane the Electric Engine)

Engines rather abruptly deciding to leave the island of Sodor, just as their character arc was reaching a high point (ERS #320 – Procor the Mainland Engine)

Massive interpersonal conflicts between members of railway staff that would in any other universe result in someone quitting due to the toxic work environment. (ERS #462 - The Joint Controllers, ERS # 464 - The Fat Controller's Birthday Party)

Extremely out-of-place bouts of anti-diesel racism all the way in the 1990s (ERSN #9 – Dockside Engines)

The Fat Controller (among others) treating engines like children, property, or in some other extremely dehumanizing way, even if they had no control over the situation. (ERS #452 – Lorries and Engines, among many others)

I could go on for some time, and many of these are far from the worst examples. There’s also a huge number of baffling choices, like creating an engine that can only talk in horse noises, and then much later having this engine have a mental breakdown over his inability to communicate. (ERSN7 - The Pegasus Railtour Campaign) They also killed off Stephen Hatt, but did it in a way that rubs me the wrong way and does nothing to really add to the character's legacy. (ERSN #15 – The Hatt Family’s Engines) I could go on about this one for about as long as I could go on about Pegasus, but I don’t have that much time at any point between now and forever, so we'll leave it at that.) 

Meanwhile, interesting characters are often created and then immediately set aside in favor of things that are nowhere near as interesting. Now that I know this is a matter of taste, but would you rather read about a diesel engine placed in storage for so long that she turned malevolently insane, (ERS #169 – Sudrian Diesel Engines) or various background characters like a skip lorry that interacts with almost none of the “main” cast of the island? (ERS #475 - Rocky the Skip Lorry) I know which one I want to see, which is why the insane diesel hasn’t gotten a story all to herself since her introduction in (checks notes) 2011. 

However, all of this pales in comparison to the real issue with the ERS - all of this is more or less subjective, but there’s a real, substantial, problem here: Nobody actually seems to like each other. 

Reading through the stories, there’s this overwhelming sense that none of the characters - engine, person, or otherwise, actually enjoy each other’s company unless it’s explicitly stated in text. Even then, that measure is sometimes shaky, as characterizations can change from book to book. Engines can be on good terms with each other in one, and the next, they can be snapping at each other for no clearly defined reason. 

Well, they might try to define it, but the ERS is rather insistent on following the short, easy to digest four-story format used by the Awdrys, which means that any character development occurs suddenly, and with little room to flesh things out. What this results in is often poorly-explained conflict that could be salvaged if they ever strayed away from the standard 4-story format. A good example of this is ERS# 340 - BoCo & the Freight Diesels. This book is actually one of the better ones in terms of character arcs - it follows a pair of class 60 diesels (Spartan and Wakefield) as they deal with the fallout of their brother/leader leaving Sodor unexpectedly. (ERS #320 - I could go on about that decision as well. The character was written out because it conflicted with what the actual, IRL locomotive he was based on was doing. Meanwhile, I’ve got City of Goddamn Truro running rampage through Sodor.) These three engines have better-than-average characterization due to the absolutely god-tier introductory story they received (ERS #151), but even still, the relatively short length of each book/chapter means that the contents of book 340 and the preceding stories don’t exactly give us enough insight into the engine’s psyches to fully grasp what’s happening. It’s not so much of a case of “telling instead of showing” as it is “this comes at you quickly and without any real advance warning.” This is probably more true to life with how people act under stress, but… this is fiction. You can show the audience what’s going on. There’s a good reason why some of the best works in the ERS are the long-form ERS Novels that allow characters room to breathe. 

(Also, in #340, the Fat Controller just absolutely rips an engine a new one for causing an accident, in the process completely sidestepping the fact that said engine had a driver and a second man on board the entire time. SiF does their level best to infantilize the engines whenever possible while at the same time making them 100% responsible for the failings of the people around them.)

Another great example of this is Daphne - the NWR’s Deltic that I stole for my own fan works because there’s a solid core to the character, but she’s been sadly let down by the works that follow. In the ERS she has a decently traumatic backstory, with lots of room for expansion of the character or at the very least, hints of other things. However Daphne is at most a secondary character to the ERS, and often appears in other stories, rather than her own. In these, the writers follow a handy rule of thumb for writing her: 

Deltics are loud, and so naturally, Daphne must be loud. Loud people are annoying, so Daphne must be annoying. Because Daphne is annoying, she must often speak without thinking. Because she speaks without thinking, she must be the most irritating bitch anyone has ever seen. 

I mean this seriously. Daphne’s entire role in a lot of the ERS is to show up, say something unintentionally insulting, and then drive away. She had a good introduction to the ERS in book #135, but since then she’s mostly been a loudmouth side character. Even her entry in the ERS guide says so: 

Daphne is best known as the big diesel with the big mouth! There is little denying that she is a good worker when she wants to be, but her occasionally spiky temper, bossiness and boastfulness can often lead to her fall from grace. She also has a knack of speaking without thinking, something that has caused many an upset or unfortunate incident over the years.

This is not an interesting character. This is an annoyance of the highest order and I don’t know why they keep her around.

At no point since her introduction over a decade ago has anyone tried to change this. They let her stagnate in the background while the fucking horse engine gets his own novel! 

-

I apologize, I’m getting slightly off track here. What I’m trying to say is that the ERS fundamentally does not understand its characters, starting at the Fat Controller and working their way down the list. There’s hundreds of episodes of someone getting yelled at for an incident outside their control, even when it’s plainly obvious that it had to be. Characters vary wildly, and act outside of what you would expect, considering when a story might happen in-universe. 

A great example of this is in Book #338. Honey, a new-build diesel shunter, is bought by the Ffarquhar Quarry Company and in short order, pulls every capital-D-Diesel trick in the book to get Mavis replaced… and it works. Mavis is hauled away on a lorry to an uncertain future, (she eventually gets bought by the NWR, don’t worry) with everyone in real fear that she’s going to get scrapped. Now, in my works, Thomas and Co. would probably commit murder; a lot of more normal folks might have the entire Ffarquhar branch in an uproar - something like the deputation that saved Donald and Douglas way back when. 

What SiF does… is nothing. Absolutely nothing. Thomas and Co. not only don’t try and get Mavis back, but they eventually welcome Honey into the branch line family a few books later (ERS #368 – Christmas at Ffarquhar) despite Honey being one of the only engines in the ERS or the original RWS to succeed in her evil mission. 

This is such a fundamental misunderstanding of the characters, starting with the most obvious one - Thomas the Tank Engine - that this almost would have to be set in the 1960s or 1950s. Nobody has grown attached to Mavis yet, and Honey isn’t obviously evil or something. 

Naaaaaaaaaaah. This story canonically takes place in 2018 and Honey speaks in Gen-Z/Millenial slang while actively sabotaging Mavis in broad daylight. I wish I was making this up. 

------

Apologies, I got off track again. 

So, what does any of this have to do with the Express Engines youtube video that I linked up top? 

Well, I think it shows rather clearly how the ERS rather wantonly misunderstands its own characters. Writers far better than I (@mean-scarlet-deceiver) have written pages and pages on the mental states of many of the RWS cast, most notably Gordon, who is the main character of Express Engines.

Again, Jobey has written far more on the subject than I have, but suffice it to say that by 1996 - the “canon” date of Express Engines - Gordon has mellowed out significantly. Even if he thinks that he’s going to be top dog on Sodor forever, he definitely isn’t up his own ass about it like how he was in the early days. He’s getting old and he knows it, and when Pip and Emma eventually do show up in the RWS, he’s remarkably mellow about the whole thing. Granted, that’s about 10-15 years further up the line, but it goes to show that he’s not going to go ballistic or act like a child at the first sign of his dominance being threatened like he might have in the 1930s. 

(Actually, having read all the books, I don’t think he’d act like that at most points after maybe WWII. A lot of his “I’m the fastest and the best!” schtick came from being a very big but very solitary fish in a very small pond, and getting him someone his own size to play with might have taken the edge off of his sense of self-importance.) 

Quite naturally, that’s exactly what he does in Express Engines. 

In the “book” version of the story, the main source of conflict is him lying to newly-arrived Sodor Castle about whistle codes, and this goes directly into the time trial section of the story, before wrapping up with a neat little bow of Gordon going off to get an overhaul. 

As a side note, the SiF-standard infantilization of engines starts off strong with this book. The primary conflict is Gordon feeling threatened by the arrival of a new express engine. What nobody has told him is that said new express engine is there primarily to cover for him when goes in for an overhaul. Why has nobody told him this? Because nobody told him he was getting an overhaul. The poor engine was going insane and picking fights based on literally nothing but a misunderstanding. 

Now, this is all fine and good - it actually reads a lot like Gordon just giving the new kid a hard time while working through his own insecurities, (something we can probably all relate to) but the video adaptation adds more stories, and goes… a lot further. 

For those who haven’t seen it, in the video, Gordon is basically being sidelined to the nth degree following Sodor Castle’s arrival, and it is driving him up the wall. Following the events of Fourth Time Unlucky, which covers the whistle code scene, Gordon and Sodor Castle are in a near constant feud, which comes to a head in the next (all-new) episode Keeping Up With Castle. In it, the primary set piece is a scene that @lswro2-222 called “Gordon McFuckin’ Loses It,” because, frankly, he does. There’s an extended race scene between a borderline-crazy Gordon and an all-too-smug Sodor Castle (seriously, he’s approaching unlikeable levels of smug and snooty) that ends with Gordon dangerously overshooting the platforms at Wellsworth. It’s very well shot, very well edited, has some great voice acting, and absolutely positively does not make sense within any existing characterization of Gordon that I have ever seen. 

I’ve thought about it for some time and maybe if this happened during the height of the modernization plan in the 60s, when everyone’s spirits were at an all-time low, it might have worked. It might have fit with the desperation and malaise of that era, maybe. For this story to take place in the late 90s, this is an almost impossible characterization of Gordon. I hate to be prescriptive of other people’s fan works and go “he would not fucking say that” but… he would not fucking say that. At all. Under any circumstances. It just wouldn’t happen. 

In a similar vein to that, the characterization of the other engines really chafes at me. Sodor Castle shows up, seemingly displacing Gordon to the slow services, and the immediate response is to embrace the newcomer while mocking Gordon. This is perhaps the closest to “canon” I would say the video comes - the engines would do that at first; Gordon getting one-upped so publicly by a Westerner would be hilarious for a good long while. The issue, however, comes from the fact that nobody ever seems to notice that Gordon is legitimately upset by this whole development. They either continue mocking him or actively take Sodor Castle's side, which isn't something you do unless you have a rather strong dislike for someone. Not exactly the way you'd think the engines would act after being shoved together for 50-70 years… unless you write for the ERS. 

Also, I have a particular bug up my ass about Sodor Castle in this video. He's almost too smug and prissy to be likeable. A lot of his lines work really well as singular lines, but the instant you realize the circumstances they're said in it all falls apart. As an example, during the race scene in Keeping Up With Castle, you'd think he'd be concerned or worried when Gordon goes screeching through Wellsworth with his brakes hard on. Even if he dislikes Gordon by now, the passengers must have gone through the far walls of the coaches, and instead Castle takes the time to gloat. It's the little things like that that really get me - the writers are obviously aware of what's going on, and choosing this particular response says a lot in a very unintentional way.

And, on the subject of saying things, I do want to make one point clear: This is not a mean-spirited “takedown” of the ERS. Any fan work that’s gone on for literal decades, with hundreds of distinct stories and characters, is commendable just in the sheer effort exerted by those involved. I will gladly applaud SiF in their work to have a consistent quality and tone to their work, even if it's not one that I universally agree with. 

Furthermore, I like the ERS. While many of the stories in it are misses, when they hit it out of the park, they really do it. The ERS Novels, especially numbers 1, 2, and 9 (The Life & Times Of Jim The Jinx, The Peel Godred Railway, Dockside Engines) are unironically good.

Many of the characters, especially those introduced in the ERS’s early days like Daphne, Winston, Samarkand, Zelda, and the Class 60 trio, are legitimately interesting, and had captivating introductions to the franchise. Sometimes, SiF even predicts the future, adding Pip and Emma to Sodor years before Chris Awdry did, and did so with an excellent set of stories that heavily influenced my own interpretation of the characters.  (and then, in a classic SiF move, they de-canonized those stories once it became clear that they couldn’t be reconciled with new Awdry canon) There is a lot of genuine skill that has gone into the ERS, and it’s definitely influenced the entire TTTE fan community whether you realize it or not. (Everyone calls the works diesel Wendell. Why? SiF named him.) It certainly influenced me, and that’s why I feel the need to write this all out. This series has been a significant part of my life for a significant part of my life, and it disappoints me to no end that it stumbles so often. This isn’t a callout of “you suck,” instead it’s a callout of “do better, please.” 

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

This viewpoint has taken me several months to collate into a single thinkpiece. I kicked the idea around for a bit, thought it out more, watched the video a few more times, and then realized that I’d have to talk about SiF a lot. (oh no, what a tragedy.) So here it is. Hope you enjoyed it.

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

Oh, one other thing. 

While I was watching the video, and thinking about how wrong this all was, and then I thought, “well I’d do this differently.” 

And then I did. 

And then things got very out of hand. 

I may have stolen some characters from SiF. 

(Don’t worry, they’re some of the ones that I like, from the few books that I enjoy.)

Anyway, here's Express Engines. 

2001 

It was barely spring on the Island of Sodor, and already the railway was being pushed to its limits. Congestion at other ports on the mainland had forced more ships into the port of Tidmouth (and, by extension, the ports of Knapford and Arlesburgh), and so the cargo trains got longer and more frequent. 

At the same time, the Easter holidays coincided with a spate of unseasonably early warm weather, so the island was swarmed with people seeking sunny beaches and scenic getaways. Tourist class tickets were in especially high demand, and on some days the Limited and the Midday Express would strain under the weight of five, seven, or even ten third class coaches. 

Fortunately, none of the engines were “down” for heavy maintenance, so while there wasn’t a scrabble to find available motive power, some… interesting schedule choices had to be made. 

-

“Henry, it’s occurred to me that I haven’t seen you leave to pull the Kipper in some time.” Gordon said one morning. 

“I haven’t been.” Henry yawned. “BoCo’s been taking it.”  

“BoCo?” 

“He said yes, don’t worry.” Henry said blearily. 

“But why aren’t you-”

“Because I’m getting about two hours of sleep if I take the Kipper and the morning stopper train, and that’s if someone isn’t snoring loud enough to shake the dust off the ceiling beams.”

“I assure you that I do not-”

“S’not you, you daft thing. It’s James. I think there’s something wrong with him.”

--

Bear growled in displeasure. It was a deep, bass-y sound that seemed to echo through the ground, and Bill and Ben fled back to the clay pits in terror. 

“-and if I catch you pulling that ever again, I’ll be the last thing you ever see!” 

Edward looked on in awe. “Can you teach BoCo how to do that?”

--

Duck goggled. “I think I’ve seen it all now.” 

Emma smiled meekly. “I know it’s a little unusual, but-”

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing., Duck cut in graciously. 

“Oh thanks.” She looked around. “I wish we didn’t have such a long train, we could probably come down here more often. It’s very pretty-”

“Oi!” cut in Mike, from the Small Railway’s tracks. “What’s wrong wit’ Oliver?”

Looking back, Duck could see Oliver trying and failing to hide from Pip, much to her chagrin. 

“Don’t worry about it! He deserves it!” he said after a moment’s deliberation.

--

“Excuse me,” the big EWS diesel asked as he rolled into Crovan’s Gate with a line of flatbeds. “But is this a heritage railway or something? What are you doing here exactly? Are you on a railtour?” 

“Railtour?” James sniffed. “I’m not a railtour! I'm late! Ta ta!” 

And he steamed away in a hurry. 

“That… didn’t answer my question.”

----

During this time, the Fat Controller was nowhere to be seen. Rumours flew between the coaches and trucks that he was out finding them another engine, but the engines themselves knew better. 

“From where would he find a King class?”

“I don’t know! But there’s a biiiiig engine back there under a sheet, and a bunch of paint all labeled “GW Green” sitting around - more than Duck and Oliver could need put together!”

Well, some of them did. 

“James, what now?” Henry groaned as he rolled into the shed. All he wanted to do was sleep,but it seemed like this wouldn’t happen soon. 

“Look,” James spluttered, as Gordon and Bear stared with skepticism heavy on their brows. “All I know is: Engine, sheet, paint, and soon!”

“Soon?” Bear scoffed. “Soon what? Soon the hols will be over? Soon that summer will come? Show me some proof.”

“Oh for- what about that tarped over thingy that came in last Christmas? I saw it! That’s real!” 

“That could be anything!” Gordon butted in. “There’s dozens of preserved lines that wish to make use of our facilities. For all we know, it is a King class that’s being restored for a museum!”

Henry suddenly felt very bemused. He had something to say now, but it needed to be timed perfectly.

He waited a few minutes, as Bear and Gordon continued grilling James over details that he couldn’t possibly have known. It was quite funny, but not as funny as what he had to say. 

Finally, as his eyelids drooped and his fire died down to embers, he saw his chance. “Excuse me, if I may.” He yawned. Gordon and Bear stopped mid-sentence to look at him. From the startled look Gordon was hiding, it seemed like they’d forgotten he was there.  “But I did overhear from the coaches on the Limited, who themselves overheard from the Fat Controller, that we are getting another engine - just not a King, but instead, a Castle!” 

The reactions of the others were priceless, and held just long enough for him to close his eyes and fall happily to sleep!

-----

The next morning, The Fat Controller arrived as the sun rose. “Well, my ears have been burning all morning,” he said jovially. “So I assume you already know about the new engines,-”

“EngineS?”

----

Last year - around Guy Fawkes Night

Stephen Hatt strode into his office to find his secretary holding the phone about three feet from her ear. Even at that distance, a great commotion was clearly audible. 

“The National Railway Museum for you sir,” she said, straining to keep the phone as far away as possible. “Mind the volume when you answer.” 

He gave her a wide berth and an askance look as he entered his office. Sitting down at his desk, he picked up the handset out of reflex, and quickly set it back down again. Carefully, he moved the phone to the other end of his desk, and pushed the speakerphone button with the corner of a particularly tall book. 

Pandemonium burst forth from the device, and it took a moment for Stephen to pick out the sound of a human voice over what sounded like a fully-involved riot in the background. “Hello? Stephen? Are you there? It’s Andrew. Look, Stephen, I shan’t mince words with you, but we’ve made a terrible mistake and you’re the only person left who can fix it.”

Stephen, having recovered from being assaulted by a wave of sound, raised an eyebrow. “Fix it? I haven’t even been told what the problem is yet!” 

“What? Can you speak up- oh for goodness’ sake!” There was a sound of a phone handset being put down, and then the sound of a door opening. The sounds of the riot became louder and more pronounced for a moment, and then there was a bellow of “QUIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEET!” that shook the phone. 

The door then shut with a suddenly audible click, and then Andrew was back on the phone. “I’m terribly sorry about that.”

“What is happening over there?” Stephen asked, agog. 

“My problem.” Andrew said, his tone hasty. He clearly expected the noise to start up again. “We’ve done some, uh. re-arranging of our collections you see, and two engines were put together who really have no business being anywhere near-”

“CITY OF TRURO I WILL KILL YOU TONIGHT.” A female voice came through loud and clear, to the point where the speakerphone vibrated halfway off the desk. “KEEP TALKING AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS.”

Stephen’s expression became slightly more fixed, and he stayed quiet for a long moment. 

Andrew could feel his hesitation. “Please. We haven’t been able to open for three days. They’re on opposite sides of the building and they’re still at it. We have to get one of them off property.” 

“Andrew…” Stephen said slowly. “You do recall that City of Truro had a most remarkable change of fortune some years ago, correct?”

“Stephen,” Andrew was close to begging. “Nobody will take him. We have to do something!” 

“Your use of the word 'we' is very inspired, Andy.” Stephen was actually going to have to get up and walk around his desk to reach the phone. 

“Wait! Wait!” His finger stopped inches from the “end call” button. “We’ll do anything! Name it!” 

The Fat Controller smiled. “Anything, you say?” 

-------

The engine had been brought in under cover - both tarpaulin and darkness. Once it had been delivered, it had been immediately shunted away into a far corner of the works, away from prying eyes. 

It was only then that the cover was removed, and the engine was revealed. A six-coupled Westerner, one of the great Castles of yore. She - and she most definitely was a she - was resplendent in Great Western Green and Gold, complete with all the little filigree marks that only a steam-era Swindon would apply. The paint had barely lost its luster, and it appeared from the outside as though this engine had been shunted through a portal in time. 

The only part of her that showed any age at all was her face. Around her eyes and brows were laugh lines and wrinkles, a generation of smiles and conversation physically worked into the structure of her beauty. 

She wasn’t smiling now, though. Frown lines cut into her face unnaturally, as she sent a venomous glare in the direction of the man standing by her pony truck.

“You were much more compliant back at the Science Museum,” he said, continuing an argument that had been ongoing since the moment he’d arrived in her line of sight. 

“I was valued at the Science Museum,” she snapped, putting heavy weight on the word valued. “And then you deaccessioned me.” 

“We were renovating!” He protested. “I would’ve thought that you would have loved being amongst your own kind. You were to be put in your own special museum!” 

“I was in the Museum longer than I ever was on the rails, but you never cared enough to find out which setting I preferred, did you?” she hissed. “All you wanted was Neil’s job!” 

“Sir Cossons stood down to run English Heritage and you know it.” 

“All I know is that you were in there for less than a month before I was 'better suited for display in York!'” 

“So you could be put in Swindon when the museum there was ready!” 

“But I didn’t want to go to Swindon!” she screeched. “And in any event, This. Isn’t. Swindon! You and Andrew sold me rather than deal with Truro!”

“Truro is more…” 

“Say that he’s more famous than me. Say it. That’s all Showboat Sharp ever cares about. Not that he’s totally unsuitable for public display, or that he-”

“He can keep his mouth shut when Andy tells him to, which is more than I can say about you!” He looked at her with disgust in his eyes. “You are a train! You are supposed to be seen and not heard, and no more!” 

Whatever she was about to say in reply - and it would have been vicious - was cut off by the opening of a distant door. A top-hatted figure emerged from the outside, and made his way towards them. 

“And,” the man whispered. “We didn’t sell you. I gave you away. It’s the only way the fat bastard would take this deal.”

There was a quiet “so glad to be valued...”, but it was lost in the arrival of the top hat wearing man. “Ah, Dr. Sharp, and Caerphilly Castle, I’m Stephen Hatt. Wonderful to meet you both in person.” 

“Charmed.” Lied man and engine as one as a small crowd of workmen filed in behind the man. 

Without prompting, the portly man clambered up onto Caerphilly’s bufferbeam to address the room. To her surprise, he did so gracefully, managing to not snag himself on her lamp irons, and his shoes were sturdy boots that gripped the metal properly. Maybe he wasn’t an officious fop after all?

“Well everyone,” he said, facing the group. “This is the surprise that I have been talking about. Without going into too many details, it seems as though the Science Museum’s recent renovations have left Caerphilly Castle without a home. Now, she was originally relocated to York, however a…” He paused diplomatically. “Certain engine caused much trouble for her there, and she has now made her way to us. I’d like to thank Dr. Sharp, the director of the Science Museum, for this kind contribution to our railway.”

“How much did you pay for ‘er?” came a voice from the front of the group of men. “Was it market value for once?” It was followed by poorly-suppressed laughter from the crowd. 

Even with his face away from her, Caerphilly could see that Stephen’s body language turned slightly defensive, but before he could say anything, Dr. Lindsay Sharp PhD., head of the largest  Science Museum in the United Kingdom, spoke up. “Actually, you have received her gratis.” he said with a smarmy smile. “We’re just glad to see her go to a good home! Hopefully you can put her on display someplace where the public can learn from her.”

Less-suppressed laughter met this. Stephen Hatt turned to look down at the other man. “Lindsay? Forgive me for disagreeing with you in public, but you do know that we intend to restore this engine to traffic, right?” 

There was a not insignificant amount of spluttering and swearing. Dr. Sharp had absolutely not known that. 

Caerphilly hadn’t known either. “You want me… to run again?” she said, not quite believing what she was hearing. 

“Of course!” Stephen said kindly. “Gordon, our primary express engine, is coming up on his boiler ticket, so we need another express engine to fill the gap.” He paused seriously. “Did you think that we were going to stick you on a plinth somewhere?” 

“I… I really did sir,” she said quietly. “I didn’t think that anyone wanted steam engines anymore.” She blinked. “Goodness, if I’d known, I would have insisted on having someone else come with me! Lord knows that Evening Star is never going to run under the current administration.” 

Stephen missed the acid glare she sent Dr. Sharp’s way. “Oh, how funny it is that you mention that. We actually have a 9F that we purchased recently. You’ll be meeting her soon enough, her name is-”

[togetherness23]

vaguely based off of this post by @mean-scarlet-deceiver. vaaaaaguely

[galinneall-dearg]

Happy 8/8! Go read Small World by @mean-scarlet-deceiver !

[some-pers0n]

I know Scarlet is the gaslight gatekeeping girlmurdering girlboss character we all like, but can we talk for a second about how she manipulates Peril? Like for just a moment 'cause I think this is actually a pretty neat and interesting facet of her character

Scarlet isolates and manipulates Peril and tells her over and over again that she's unlovable in the eyes of everyone. That anyone, no matter what, will kill her at any chance. That everyone is out to get her because of her firescales. That she's nothing more than a monster. Scarlet paints this picture that Peril can only survive in her care, as anywhere else is dangerous and threatens her. Scarlet tells her that she was born to kill, having killed her twin brother in their egg, and that because of it she will never find her place amongst other dragons. Not just that, but convinces her that she needs a steady supply of coal to eat in order to keep her scales from killing her. If she were to leave, she would die

Scarlet grooms Peril into becoming her ideal champion. A killing machine that obeys her every command as even the slightest hesitancy would mean she could be tossed out and left to the mercy of others. Peril never knew anything outside of that. She had Osprey, yes, but even he had to walk around eggshells and was eventually killed right in front of Peril. Peril was, in every sense of the word, alone. She had no perception of what a normal dragon should be like. It's why she struggles so much in EP to act in a way that doesn't scare others as the only time she's really been allowed to interact with others was to literally kill them

All of this caused by Scarlet, who spared no expense to keep Peril in her claws. She lied, cheated, manipulated, and deceived into making Peril the way she was when we see her in TDP. For a character who's played up for laughs and entertainment, that is such a wild and incredibly interesting part of her character, no?

[konnosaurus]

everyone!! go and read!!! @mean-scarlet-deceiver's!! thomas and friends series 1: (run-off-a-) cliff notes!!! it cracked me up so much and is SO WELL WRITTEN AND FUNNY and i had to draw a little something for it hehe. readdd ittt!!!!! :D

[gadgetini]

i got around to reading @mean-scarlet-deceiver ‘s “Small World” (with moonie holding my hand the whole time) Im hurt. Im hurting.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

More French Loans in Middle English

Loan Word - vocabulary borrowings

Borrow - to introduce a word (or some other linguistic feature) from one language or dialect into another

Leisure and the arts art, beauty, carol, chess, colour, conversation, courser, dalliance, dance, falcon, fool, harness, image, jollity, joust, juggler, kennel, lay, leisure, literature, lute, melody, minstrel, music, noun, painting, palfrey, paper, parchment, park, partridge, pavilion, pen, pheasant, poet, preface, prose, recreation, rein, retrieve, revel, rhyme, romance, sculpture, spaniel, stable, stallion, story, tabor, terrier, title, tournament, tragedy, trot, vellum, volume

Science and learning alkali, anatomy, arsenic, calendar, clause, copy, gender, geometry, gout, grammar, jaundice, leper, logic, medicine, metal, noun, ointment, pain, physician, plague, pleurisy, poison, pulse, sphere, square, stomach, study, sulphur, surgeon, treatise

The home basin, blanket, bucket, ceiling, cellar, chair, chamber, chandelier, chimney, closet, couch, counterpane, curtain, cushion, garret, joist, kennel, lamp, lantern, latch, lattice, pantry, parlour, pillar, porch, quilt, scullery, towel, tower, turret

General nouns action, adventure, affection, age, air, city, coast, comfort, country, courage, courtesy, cruelty, debt, deceit, dozen, envy, error, face, fault, flower, forest, grief, honour, hour, joy, labour, manner, marriage, mischief, mountain, noise, number, ocean, opinion, order, pair, people, person, piece, point, poverty, power, quality, rage, reason, river, scandal, season, sign, sound, spirit, substance, task, tavern, unity, vision

General adjectives active, amorous, blue, brown, calm, certain, clear, common, cruel, curious, eager, easy, final, foreign, gay, gentle, honest, horrible, large, mean, natural, nice, original, perfect, poor, precious, probable, real, rude, safe, scarce, scarlet, second, simple, single, solid, special, strange, sudden, sure, usual

General verbs advise, allow, arrange, carry, change, close, continue, cry, deceive, delay, enjoy, enter, form, grant, inform, join, marry, move, obey, pass, pay, please, prefer, prove, push, quit, receive, refuse, remember, reply, satisfy, save, serve, suppose, travel, trip, wait, waste

Turns of phrase by heart, come to a head, do homage, do justice to, have mercy on, hold one’s peace, make complaint, on the point of, take leave, take pity on

Part 1 ⚜ Source ⚜ More References: Middle English ⚜ Word Lists

[stories-of-the-nrm]

Save The Memphis Trolleys

Please sign, reblog or both to help save a piece of Memphis history. Tag list under the cut.

Tagging: @jayde-jots, @thefedoragirl, @nelllia, @postmodernpre-grouping, @ihatewoodpeckers,

@gold-dust599, @klein-sodor-bahn, @supermariojack, @ilovebfdi123, @gordonhighlander49,

@be-kind-and-rewind-again, @sophiaenginehuman, @slowlykawaiidreamland, @etherealcaprifandoms, @colaxcoco,

@asktheoriginalorder, @tornadoyoungiron, @gordon208, @shadowthebou, @engineer-gunzelpunk,

@baldwin-10-12-d, @lnwrcauli, @mintydeluxes-blog, @thefluffyrailway-official, @bladexjester,

@lorainedoesthings, @moonlightcrystal12, @skylarthethompson, @viktuurishipper96, @avaford2009,

@6220coronation, @wisetalekid, @brainstorms-briefcase, @sketalya, @brendambois,

@gatatodapoderosa, @edward2289, @gronkgal, @frendmvl456, @dickheadgirl,

@freakann, @steam-beasts, and @mean-scarlet-deceiver.

[fantasyinvader]

I actually don’t think Edelgard’s writing as a villain works all that well.

The game leans on her backstory to paint her as this tragic anti-villain, someone who had horrible things done to her but in the end wants to make the world a better place and is misguided on what that actually means. But that’s simply her backstory, the explanation for what she does.

In practice, she is a massive hypocrite. Says she wants to make sure no one else goes through what she did, but aids TWSITD in experiments that strip away people’s humanity by turning them into monsters. She’s talks a good game about no one being sacrificed because of that, but is fully willing to eliminate everyone who doesn’t bend the knee or kiss the ring. As such, her talk of freedom is undermined by her knowledge that Hubert kills everyone who is viewed as a threat to her rule and the fact he does this even to people she says to spare. Uses information campaigns and information control for her own benefit, slandering her enemies and having them framed for actions they didn’t commit, but talks about how she will rid Fodlan of it’s lies. For all her spiel against Sothis and the Church, she takes over the religion to spread her own ideals. Has no problem with people supporting her, but believes others need to rely on their own strength and fend for themselves unless her helping them benefits her in some way. As such, she’s shown to be a liar who deceives others for the sake of her goal even in the route where she tells the player that their support saved her.

All of the above is from fucking Flower.

She undermines everything she says she’s about, everything that was supposed to make her an anti-villain. Once you take the anti out of the anti-villain you are simply left with a villain character, and I think that applies especially to how Edelgard was intended to be portrayed. She’s trying to manipulate the player and lead them astray, even to the point of editing her retelling of her own backstory. She’s determined to see her path through no matter the cost, but at the same time is spelled out in both Azure Moon and Scarlet Blaze that she deliberately ignores what she doesn’t want to see. She refusal to deviate from her path isn’t some noble trait, it’s her being wilfully ignorant and stubborn to the point she would rather die than admit she was wrong. And with the full view of her hypocrisies, all her actions really amount to is her, unlike her father, successfully centralizing power on herself. In essence, it all comes down to the “freedom” she fought for was actually her own to impose her will upon Fodlan. It’s why she keeps talking about how Nabateans shouldn’t be the ones to “stand above humanity” in the Japanese text, as she wants to be the one who stands at the apex of the world.

And yet, the game still wants players to feel sorry for her and see her as the tragic anti-villain her backstory paints her as. Meanwhile the writing’s inability to directly challenge her gives the appearance that the game is trying to have moral greyness, yet player’s are also meant to piece together that she is wrong. I understand “show, don’t tell” but Houses is really big on telling players. Hell, it’s only revealed that Edelgard still uses humans turned into demonic beasts in Flower through a single comment that can be avoided if the player doesn’t recruit Hanneman.

We’re left with the game trying to tell us that Edelgard isn’t some cartoon villain, but it also undermines that same message with what she is said to do. And that’s before the localization tried it’s hand at making her route more heroic. Sure, you can say that the game wants us to forgive her in a Buddhist sense, to let go of our hatred towards her but not pardoning her misdeeds and stopping her from causing suffering, as even if we were to attempt to pardon her Edelgard would keep fighting, but coupling that with the refusal to actually engage in the reality of her actions undermines those actions as a result. The actions that undermine the idea she is an anti-villain are in turn undermined by the game’s narrative.

See what I mean with how this doesn’t work?