#te answers questions

[traintrainingmontage]

Prompt:

Donald and Douglas before they came to Sodor.

Also, congratulations on gaining 150 followers! 🎉

Thank you so much!! 💖 I appreciate it~ And I am more than happy to do more backstory with the Scottish engines!! Let's see what Donald and Douglas got up to, back before they ever came to Sodor's shores...

(Some crew OCs and story ideas borrowed [w/ permission] from @edwards-exploit!!)

(The month, and the prompts deadline, is coming to a close! Get your prompt idea in by the 31st, and I'll write it! Details are here!)

Kirk Darrow couldn't have been more pleased as he left the stationmaster's office, having been told that management was seriously considering him for a position as a driver. The winter cold bit at him like mad, but his entire body felt warm and light, like he'd just enjoyed a hot toddy. He'd served as a fireman for a number of years, and had the honor of crewing BR No. 57646 alongside his brother, Dirk. The two of them had, just as they'd arrived in the world together, signed up to join the railway together many moons ago when there weren't any better prospects to speak of back home.

While Dirk had been certified as a driver for a few years now, Kirk had always known that he could have taken the exams, but truthfully, he hadn't felt terribly motivated to do so. After all, he got to work alongside his twin and their engine all day, so why would he ever want to drive some other engine? It was only through the urging of his brother and No. 57646 that Kirk even bothered to consider it, though, mostly because, in Dirk's words, "if som'thin' 'appens n' I get laid up in th' hospital, ye'd better be able t' take care o' 'im!"

Unfortunately for Kirk, Dirk was known to make snap judgements and rash decisions, some of which had landed him in the hospital before, so it was that rather sound argument that had led to him studying for (and thankfully scoring high on) his exams.

As Kirk rounded the bend and approached the yard, trying to figure out how best to share the good news—should he play the fool? Offer to buy beers? Make it out to be a Christmas miracle?—what he saw instead made his good cheer evaporate in a flash.

No. 57647, an engine that their own held close to his heart, snarled throatily at one of the new diesel railbuses that had so recently entered service, this one having transferred here only a few short days ago. This particular diesel was 79959, and from the very start, he had made a rather strong impression on the rest of the yard. Kirk didn't much care for him himself, but at least he knew how to keep his damn distance. Unfortunately, from the way the two engines were facing off against each other, anger bleeding off of them both, one of them—or perhaps both of them—had decided to pick a fight.

"Ye'd best take that back, ye oil-huffin' ninny!"

The diesel only sniffed imperiously at 57647's words, clearly unimpressed. "Oh, look. Th' hothead's barbaric brother is here t' play noo! Ohhhh, Ah'm so scared!"

Condescension dripped from every word, and the diesel's eyes slowly turned back to 57646, a cocksure grin stretching across his face. "Ye 'eard what ah said, but ah'll say it again! All ye steamies are jus' washed up, no-good, hunks o' rust, an' you, ye dumb engine, are th' worst of all. Always givin' me orders, always thinkin' ah'm not as strong or as important as ye. WELL! Ah can do whatever you can, an' so much more! Ah can't wait 'til yer in the scrapyard, beggin' fer yer life, only ta—"

BAM! There was a clash, metal scraping against metal, and 57647 was suddenly right in front of the diesel, the two buffer to buffer as, with a great heave of effort, the steam engine pushed the railbus right off the rails, causing him to tip over and land with a great clatter against the cold, hard ground.

"HAAH! HAAH!" the railbus hyperventilated, panic setting in as his eyes looked every which way, focusing on nothing. A great hush fell over the yard, everyone watching in collective bewilderment as they tried to comprehend what had happened, before realization finally set in and a cacophany of noise erupted. Some of the men immediately set to righting the toppled bus, who was now screaming obscenities at the twin engines, while others hurried to ascertain the state of the line. 57647, for his part, was soundly being told off by his crew, two more folks that Kirk couldn't confidently say that he liked until he'd gotten enough beers in him.

"What were ye thinkin', ye ridiculous engine?!" the steam engine's driver shouted, looking like he was a hair's breadth away from popping a vein. "Ye coulda hurt someone! Yer lucky that damn railbus' crew was on break! Yer so... GAH! No wonder th' top brass wants t'—"

At that moment, however, the driver suddenly clammed up, the fireman also shuffling his feet and looking anywhere else. 57646's brows furrowed, suspicion all over his face, and it was clear that he was about to press on the matter, when a particular sound gave them all pause.

The depot manager's heavy steps were unmistakable, and Mr. MacCullough, the dark-eyed manager, approached the two steam engines with ire in his eyes and his jaw firm.

"Unbelievable. Once again, ye've caused me some REAL trouble, 57647! That railbus was t' take passengers this afternoon, an' noo, I've gotta organize a replacement! AGAIN!"

"But sir, I—"

"Can it, ye lousy engine! Ye couldn't keep yer temper in check, n' ye started a fight. Don't even pretend; I've already heard enough testimony from everyone here!"

The depot manager took a deep breath, eyes moving back and forth between the twins. "You listen t' me," he growled, his volume low but the intensity of his voice palpable. "Ah've had it wit' ye. Yer a bleedin' idiot who can't keep 'is temper, an' ah don't need that on ma railway. Yer done. Ah'm arrangin' for ye t' be sent t' th' scrapyard at th' end o' th' week."

A sudden hush fell over the twin engines and 57646's crew as Kirk came over to join his brother and their engine, his good news seeming so monumentally insignificant in the face of this terrible announcement. "Wha... what d'ya mean, sir?" 57647 trembled, and beside him, Dirk also trembled, but certainly not with trepidation.

"Ah mean what ah said," the manager sneered. "Yer no longer useful, an' yer gettin' scrapped. As fer 57646 here, congratulations. Ye've been sold; yer goin' t' Sodor."

"SODOR?!" exploded 57646, horror, anger, and rebelliousness all coming to the forefront as the manager's words sunk in.

"Tha's right," the steely eyed Mr. MacCullough continued, seeming quite unpreturbed even though a giant steam locomotive easily more than thrice his size looked like he was currently contemplating murder. "Yer goin' t' Sodor, an' ah'll be seein' ye off in a few days so yer crew can decide whether they wanna go wit' ya. That's all."

With that, like he hadn't just delivered the equivalent of executioner's orders, Mr. MacCullough turned on his heel and headed straight back for his office, his stride not slowing in the least despite the agony he'd left behind.

"No... NO!" 57647 cried, shaking like mad as tears threatened to fall. Beside him, Dirk and Kirk slowly reached up to pat at his frames; even though 57647 wasn't their engine, 57646 loved him enough to call him brother, and thus, he was just as special to the crew.

The reactions from 57647's own crew, however, left something to be desired, especially as Dirk turned to face them with a fire in his eyes.

"What was that, Rory?!" he demanded, practically getting into the driver's face. "Ye didn't stand up for yer engine at all! Yer jus' gonna... jus' gonna let him DIE?!"

With that, Dirk grabbed at his fellow driver's shirt and practically lifted him to his tiptoes, with Kirk making no move to stop him. However, instead of remorse, Rory simply let out a harsh sigh, his expression a mess of anxiety, reluctance, and resignation.

"Th' Controller let me know this mornin'. Mick n' I... we're bein' transferred t'a new engine. There's nothin' we can do. We can't work wit' him anymore, and ah'd rather be drivin' one o' them nice new diesels, anyway."

"Them nice new diesels..." Dirk scoffed, before spitting off to the side and releasing his grip, causing Rory to scramble backwards, breathing heavily, eyes wide with fright. "Get outta me sight. I dun wanna see ye again fer th' rest o' th' time ah'm here. GO!"

Rory and Mick didn't need persuading. The two scrambled off in a flurry of limbs, their movements so comical that were the situation anything but what it was, it might have been funny.

"Ah... ah cannae believe it," 57647 whimpered, eyes wide and staring at nothing. "Ma crew... they dun care 'bout me. Ah'm... ah'm gonna be scrapped..."

"Nae," 57646 whispered fiercely, trying to keep his voice low even though all assembled could hear the emotions raging just beneath the surface. "Yer not dyin' anytime soon, y'hear me? Ah... Ah'll figure sometin' out."

"Ye mean we," Dirk corrected, causing Kirk to look over at him in surprise. "We aren't about to let ye go at this alone." The conviction in his voice brought warm smiles to the faces of the two Caledonians, and it would have been a perfect moment if not for Kirk grabbing at his brother's arm.

"Ah, 'scuse us, you two."

Kirk managed to wrangle Dirk off to the side for a moment, before staring at his twin with disbelief. "Dirk! Ye cannae make promises ye can't keep!"

Dirk folded his arms, scowling at his brother as though he'd said something ridiculous. "What're ye on about, Kirk? Our engines need our help!"

"Our engines?!" Kirk hissed, struck absolutely incredulous by his brother's audacity. "Dirk, we have one engine, an' tha's moore than enough! 'Sides, his brother's bound fer th' scrapyard! How d'ye propose we—"

"Kirk," his brother interrupted softly, his tone solemn, "if I were starin' down th' executioner's axe, wuld ye do whatcha had t' do ta save me?"

"O' course!" Kirk blurted, not even needing a second to think. "Yer me bràthair, an'—"

"Tha's how our engine feels 'bout his own," his twin interjected, his tone now pleading, almost begging Kirk to understand. "Kirk, we've gotta do sometin'. Ah already know we're goin' wit' him t' Sodor; we've got no reason t' stay, an' he may be metal, but he may as well be kin. And kin comes through fer kin."

There was a long, long silence. Kirk stared steadily at Dirk, then at the two engines, who were quietly conversing with each other, then upon noticing that he was looking at them, gave tiny, hopeful smiles that would have melted any good man's heart.

At that, a long sigh escaped the fireman's lips as he turned to regard his brother, who was already smiling at the sound of his twin's surrender. "Alright. We'll save his bràthair. N' he's real lucky, 'cause ah know our cousins, Bryce n' Blair, were also thinkin' a leavin' th' railway an' skippin' town. They'll be happy t' come wit' us, 'specially if there's steamies that need savin'."

"YES!" Dirk started to cheer, but then quickly stopped himself as the noise drew the attention of the other railwaymen around the yard. "Alright. Last thing we need's another driver, then..."

At this, Kirk couldn't help but roll his eyes. Looked like his earlier conundrum had solved itself. "Guess yer in luck once again. Ah passed th' exams; ah'm a certified driver noo."

"Really?!" Dirk's eyes widened to an almost comical degree, and a huge smile split his face. "Ah shoulda known that's why ye were lookin' so proud earlier! Between you an' me drivin' an' the Mitchells' shovelin', we'll have no problems gettin' t' Sodor! Let's tell them the good news, then!"

With that, the good news was shared and plans were laid, and despite the worries and the fear of what the future might hold, one engine and his driver, along with another engine and his soon-to-be-driver, found themselves smiling brightly. After all, nobody knew better than they did how far they'd go for family.

[kiir-do-faal-rahhe]

sit down i'm going to tell you about my tes healing magic headcanons.

in my canon, healing magic is very. finicky. and precise. you must have a very complex and thorough understanding of the body (which differs between say, a nord and an argonian.) and it gets much more tough the worse the injury is. superficial cuts (like papercuts) are the simplest to heal, yet still not easy. deeper lacerations not over internal organs require more knowledge of the skin (including thickness!) and everything within it to properly heal everything together. it gets even trickier when we move deeper, or even to organs. bones have their own structure, tougher than skin, and organs need a lot more precision while moving quicker, and all of them are different. all wounds should be cleaned beforehand as well. mages wishing to learn healing magic are often given donated bodies (which are hard to acquire) to adequately understand not only where everything is but also everything's anatomy.

the very best restoration mages can reattach limbs which is not only costly, but comes with it's own set of rules like a set time for how long a limb can be severed before it cannot be reattached again (tissue death), with complications of nerve damage, movement issues, and needing physical therapy. also it's extremely taxing to a magicka pool, and not many of these people exist.

many people criticize restoration magic for being "not worth it" to learn with the practice of alchemy existing. they say "just make restoration alchemy the best it possibly can be, it's easier to learn." not thinking about acquiring ingredients, shelf life, cost, and that magic and alchemy are not always equal. restoration alchemy speeds up the body's natural healing process along with helping wounds not get infected as easily (and also need to be taken more than once for worse wounds), while restoration magic is instant in its effects (though often with some tenderness and bruising).

the other reason people are prone to criticizing restoration magic is because of the relationship between healer and healee. if the healer regards their patient positively (whether from a personal relationship or even being an extremely empathetic person) the magic will feel very light, even pleasant for the person being healed. if the healer regards their healee negatively, however, the magic will range from extremely uncomfortable or a fair bit painful at best to excruciating at worst. for most people who learn basic healing, using their magic on a stranger or someone not well-known often feels like a light sting and/or slightly numb, sort of like an antiseptic cleaning spray.

okay that's all thank you for reading :)

[th3skullqu33n93]

Some big cats are able to purr like house cats and some can't, which has me wondering if the bigger or more humanoid Khajiit can do it too.

And if they can what would it sound like?

[pluurankeli]

Doing fan art of Oblivion characters is a tricky task because they need to look similar enough to the character models to be recognizable but different enough to not look weird af. It’s surprising really how many people succeed in this

[q-iam]

A while ago, m'aiq tõld this One that The best use of a nord is as an excellent Body Shield "when this One is trying to Dodge assasins and bounty Hunters". What do you think about this?

No person should ever be used as a body shield. M'aiq is a bad person whom you should not listen to. Perhaps if he did not try to hide behind Nords, lie to everyone, and smuggle skooma everywhere, he would not have to worry about bounty hunters and assassins.

[lobo-inu]

Hi Lobo 💛 From your OC asks for darling Robin and dearest Miraak… 🐈‍⬛🐉

12. What does their bed and/or desk look like? Tidy or cluttered - are they both the same, or is one neat and the other messy?

THANK YOU NANI <333 this question is very fun, as i really enjoy thinking about their living spaces - so much so that i have a pinterest board for it x)

the two share a bedroom, so their bed is quite large. Robin has always favored more dark/dim and cozy spaces, so their bed is surrounded with long, dark drapes that act as blackout curtains. there's small hanging decorations made of glass, stone, and various trinkets hung up alongside the drapes.

they also have lots of pillows... more than they realistically need, lol. that too is Robin's doing.

as for their desk, they each share one since their bedroom - and their whole house, honestly - is on the smaller side. it sits up against 2 windows, and takes up most of the wall across from the bed. Miraak prefers the desk be neat, and ideally would like minimal decorations and clutter. the more space, the better.

Robin on the other hand is very cluttered. he also likes to display his personal dragon hoard on the desk (keys, coins, stones, glass pieces, amethyst etc). visual stimulation is a big thing for him. and while Miraak understands, they definitely go back-and-forth between a neat desk and a very cluttered, mess-from-last-night-still-there desk.

Miraak and Robin both find their bedroom to be their safe space, and therefore put a lot of effort into making it feel more cozy and personalized. a lot of their free time is either spent in bed napping, or at their desk crafting/writing/etc.

ask me more questions here!

bonus art from @bonestrewncrest that felt appropriate to share in this ask 🖤

[feykrorovaan]

Babe, would you still love me if I was a wyrm?

[littledragondork]

Imagine if Bethesda makes The Elder Scrolls VI take place somewhere in that 200 year span between Oblivion and Skyrim would that be fucked up or what?

[deus-ex-mona]

nanarumi sesesena photobook ily

[shakooo]

Shako dibuja un skibidi toilet 🥰

mi primera (y última) vez dibujando un skibidi😍🙏

[traintrainingmontage]

Congrats on the 150, Te!!! I'm not too sure on the prompt i wanna choose so you go wild with something in railway reincarnation!

THANK YOU, JUNIE!! 💖Ahhh, Railway Reincarnation, my beloved <3 I loved helping develop that AU.

To give a brief explanation, in this AU, all of the engines' souls are those of people who died and were reborn as engines! Some remembered their past lives as humans immediately upon waking up, while others only remembered after many years had passed and/or something happened that caused them to remember.

One interesting aspect of this is that siblings (and sometimes other family groupings) often find that even in their new lives, their paths once again cross, but while one sibling might already remember their fond yesteryears together, the other might not...

(This one's a long one, so much so that I'm making it a two-parter. CW: Mentions of death; notable angst)

(Interested in submitting a prompt of your own or seeing what I've written so far? Take a look here!)

At first, there was nothing but blackness, all-consuming and omnipresent. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, floating in the thermlessness of the void—only that there was the feeling of anticipation, like something was going to soon happen.

That something came into clarity as soon as he blinked his eyes open for the first time, taking in his surroundings. He appeared to be in some sort of workshop, with gray brick softly illuminated by the afternoon sun. Tools and paints were scattered about, although he wasn't entirely sure what many of said tools were used for. This was quite different from any place he'd seen back in the Valley, back in his—

At the thought of his home, the breathtakingly beautiful Skarloey Valley—named for the lake whose shores he lived on, with the richest red apples on God's green earth and home of the best place on Sodor to see the starry skies—he couldn't keep back a gasp, memories running like a river through his mind.

Calling for his brother. Watching his face turn from excited to horrified as the ice coating the lake began to crack. His brother's mad dash to get to safety. Running forward. Grasping at his younger brother's arms and propelling him to shore, with not a shred of regret in his heart. Falling beneath the ice, and being unable to resist as Skarloey's waters took his breath away for the last time.

He... had died, hadn't he? He'd saved his brother, certainly, but he was quite certain that he'd perished that day. At least... he'd thought so. Yet none of his confusion changed the fact that as far as he could sensibly tell, he was... here, wherever "here" was. As if by impulse, he tried moving his hands, but found that he was quite incapable of doing so. In fact, he couldn't move anything at all, not even his neck. Given his vantage point, which made him certain that he was not on the floor, was he being restrained and suspended somehow? Maybe that was the case, especially with how his body felt so heavy, heavier than anything he'd ever experienced before. He could only liken himself to how a turtle must feel, although, once again, he couldn't move himself, no matter how much he tried.

"Ah! You're awake!" A cheerful voice sounded from somewhere to his left, and his eyes snapped over to take in the sight of a workman in a flat cap and homespun shirt looking up at him with a smile. This also caused him to see for the first time that there were two shiny pieces of polished metal jutting out in front of him, connected to a red-colored bar, which also held a hook and latches of some kind. "You're almost done, Skarloey. You'll be put through your trials and paces, and then you'll be sent off to Sodor!"

This information caused him to blink, eyes quickly searching to see if the workman was talking to someone else instead, but no, it appeared as though he was being addressed. "Um... Skarloey, you said?" Thankfully, his voice didn't sound as off-kilter as he felt.

"That's right!" the workman grinned. "That's your name, according to the folks who commissioned ya! Named you after this pretty little lake, or so I heard."

What was this man talking about? Why would he be called Skarloey? That didn't make any sense. Skarloey was, as he'd said, a lovely lake, but it was still a place, not a name (although it was a very... memorable place, to be fair). He had a name, didn't he?

Then, it all clicked. Of course! This was a dream. A rather strange and overly realistic dream, to be sure, but how could it be anything else? Yes, that must be it. He must have had a nightmare about his death, and this dream had followed that one. Never before had he had dreams as realistic as these, but there was a first time for everything!

He would have marveled even more at how detailed it all was, but the workman's smile was staring to droop with impatience, so he decided to stow that thought in the back of his mind and follow wherever his mind wanted to lead him. "You mentioned, erm, trials?"

"That's right! We've gotta make sure that you work properly before you're sent off."

"But... what do you mean, 'work properly?' Does this have to do with why I can't move?"

This time, the workman's brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you daft, lad? Still groggy, maybe? Ya can't move because your brake's on. Come on, let's get you out for your trials. Maybe that'll help wake you up."

Before he could react, the man walked towards him, then disappeared from sight. He would have asked where he was going, but was interrupted by the sudden sense that someone was now close behind him, as if standing on his back. Even stranger, that person was somehow manipulating him as well, yet this coercion was not through words; it was like hands were directly touching his nerves, adjusting and pulling. It didn't hurt, but the sensation was absolutely alien, to the point where he thought he might be sick. The feeling only intensified when it felt like another person had joined in, and that now there were two people behind him and manipulating his body in a way that he couldn't even remotely begin to describe. It was a feeling that should have felt wrong, but the fact that it didn't was almost more distressing.

As he contemplated this accumulation of several small horrors, he was thankfully distracted by a pleasant warmth sizzling to life within him. If he'd had to describe where, he would have said that his heart and stomach were both alight at the same time, filling him with a heat that made his once-inert body seemingly animate of its own accord. Abruptly, he got the sense that another change had been made to some internal process, and suddenly, instinctively, he felt that perhaps he could move now.

"Alright, lad!" called the workman from earlier. He had no idea how he could hear the words, only that he could; the man's voice was as clear as if they were standing right next to each other. "Back out slowly, alright?"

He didn't really understand the command, but he just had to back up, right? Like putting one foot behind the other? He gave it a go, but found that he couldn't; it was as if he didn't have two feet to move. Instead, it was like they were glued together, requiring him to hop backwards. The motion should have felt awkward, but instead, it felt much like he was gliding, and before long, he was moving more fluidly, much to his delight. "Haha! There we are!" he cheered, and the two people behind him whooped and hollered, equally delighted.

As he was backing out of the shed, he couldn't help but notice that next to him, albeit facing the opposite direction, was what he thought to be an oddly shaped vehicle, one that he'd never seen before. How funny that his dream would have created something as bizarre as this! He'd never imagined himself to be a particularly creative sort, but apparently, he'd have to re-evaluate.

The vehicle, if it was in fact one, had four wheels and a strange metal dome on its back that reached down to cover even its sides. It also carried what looked like a polished brass bell, and had a long tube atop its head adorned with a golden band. Most of its frame was painted green, and on its side was written "Talyllyn." As he stared at it, he noticed that somehow, it even had a face like a human, although it looked like it was sleeping at present.

"Um... excuse me?"

"Hm? What is it?" called the workman, who he was pretty sure was the one controlling him.

"What is that? That... vehicle over there."

There was a pause, one that he vaguely thought was surprise. "You... you don't know? You two are twins!"

"Twins?" he echoed, disbelief coursing through him as he continued to move, along with a dreadful certainty that the man wasn't lying. "Then, if that's the case...

"Sir... what am I?"

The workman laughed, giving him a pat on the back. "Hah! So many questions! What you are is a marvel of engineering, lad.

"You, Skarloey, are a steam engine."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His trials were completed in due time, and before long, he was fastened to a ship to be sent off to Sodor. How marvelous it all seemed to his wonder-filled eyes; he'd never seen the sea before, but he had read about it, and he had to marvel at how well his mind had managed to conjure up even something like this, from the salty smell to the gentle rocking of the waves.

He did have to admit, however, that he was beginning to adjust to life as Skarloey the steam engine. It still felt strange to be called as such after the same-named lake had become his tomb in his last dream, but he could never dislike it. After all, both he and his brother were born in that dear little house on its shores, and whenever he woke up, he'd be back in his familiar bed, just in time to help his grandmother with the sheep and the fields, and hopefully enjoy some apples for his troubles.

It was a bit strange how long it was taking for him to awaken, but he supposed there was no rush; not when everything was so new and interesting to his eyes! At 27 summers old, he had lived and expected to die in his valley, and after receiving his education (from a college-educated teacher, at that!), he was just happy to come home, read to his grandmother from the hymnal, borrow a book or two from the library, and tend to all that needed to be done.

...Was it common in dreams to miss one's family? He didn't know, but either way, as much as he was enjoying himself, part of him did want to wake up soon. It would make him feel better knowing that his brother was safe, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before long, Skarloey had arrived on the mainland, met an ugly yet charming box tank (who would have thought that he was also considered a steam engine! Apparently it had more to do with how they moved than how they looked, which to Skarloey, was truly a marvel), and got himself acquainted with the new manager. He'd chafed a little at the thought of having to work, even in his dreams, but that was fine; once they all understood each other, and that kind workman (whose name was Mr. Bobbie) came over to help out, Skarloey found that life as a steam engine wasn't so bad.

The strangest part, however, was building out the line and becoming "re"acquainted with his home; parts of it were still the same, but many things were different from what he'd remembered. How odd that his dream would have all of these little differences in it! It was these contradictions, and the gnawing worry about why he had not yet awoken, that served as nourishment for the seed of dread which had rooted itself in his soul. If, by some strange chance, this wasn't all a dream, then... no. No no no. Best not to think about that which surely couldn't be true.

Instead, he had much more interesting ideas to consider, such as the impending arrival of Rheneas, another engine that had been built in the same workshop Skarloey had. He couldn't deny that he was quite excited to meet Rheneas; Talyllyn had been fine company, but she'd been sent off to work on another railway, and he privately hoped that perhaps he'd be able to gain an actual friend in this worryingly lengthy dream of his.

Soon enough, the fateful day arrived. Neil arrived with Rheneas in tow, proudly clad in the Skarloey Railway's livery, and the SR No. 2 was carefully removed from the flatbed and helped onto the rails. Skarloey couldn't yet see the other engine's face from his position in the shed, but he was still determined to make a good first impression. "Hello!" he chirped warmly. "Welcome to the railway! It's a pleasure to have you!"

"Hello," came a shockingly familiar voice, and Skarloey's body suddenly seized up like his fire had been doused by ice-cold water. The new engine was slowly turned around, and as soon as Skarloey saw the other's face, it took every ounce of his willpower not to let out a bonechilling scream.

"My name is Rheneas," the other steam engine greeted in his brother's voice, the tone and cadence identical to an eerie degree, as he looked at Skarloey with his brother's eyes.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was Rheneas' third day on Sodor, and the two engines were currently in the process of getting steamed up and ready for the work ahead. "This really is a lovely line," Rheneas commented, eyes alert and looking every which way, as if to commit it all to memory. His mannerisms were so similar to Skarloey's brother that it could be called uncanny, and now, more than ever, the dread sprouting in Skarloey's soul whispered what he could only pray were lies. They had to be; this couldn't be reality. He couldn't really be a steam engine, and Rheneas couldn't really be his brother. He'd saved his brother. But wait, that had been a dream too... hadn't it?

Had he really died? And now... he was a steam engine? And if so... was Rheneas actually...

Skarloey could only absently murmur his assent to Rheneas' comment, the burden of all of his unanswered questions piling onto him more and more as the dread blossomed, its petals practically choking him. Rheneas glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing. However, the tiny, dejected sigh that he gave, imperceptible to anyone but those who knew him, resounded like a trumpet blast to Skarloey's ear.

No. He couldn't run away from this. He couldn't.

"Say, Rheneas..." Skarloey began hesitantly, quite unsure of how he should even begin to initiate this conversation. "Have you ever... had weird dreams?"

At this, his companion's face scrunched up in thought. "Weird dreams? No, I can't say that I have."

"Really?" Skarloey pressed delicately. "No dreams of, say, fishing on Skarloey, or falling in? Or maybe any of being human, perhaps, or..."

"No," Rheneas repeated, slightly more firmly this time, and with a note of concern in his voice. "I've never thought, or even dreamed about, being human. Not once. I've also never dreamed about the lake, given that I've only been here for less than a week. If you are, well, all I can say is that perhaps you ought to focus more on your duties."

Skarloey couldn't help but flinch at the answer. That matter-of-fact tone was very particular, and it was one that his brother had used when someone was being silly. However, it had always been reserved for people he didn't know well. To hear that tone used against himself, it was akin to the cut of a whip across his heart.

"I want to wake up," he murmured, averting his eyes from Rheneas. "Please. Please let me wake up. I want to see my brother. Please, please..."

Mr. Bobbie, sensing that something was wrong, came over to give his engine's bufferbeam a pat. "Aw, Skarloey, did you end up hearing about that tragedy? The one about the poor bloke who fell into the lake and died?"

At that, Skarloey's eyes went wide, and his gaze snapped to Mr. Bobbie. Thinking that he was on the right track, the driver turned to face the others, gearing up to tell the tale. "Yeah, there's a sad story 'round here. Last year, 1863, some poor lad living with his granma and brother fell into Skarloey."

No.

"He wasn't that old, either; 27? 28?"

No no no no no.

"He'd gone out to call for his brother, who was out fishing on the lake. The brother was on his way back, but the ice started cracking. He was almost to shore, but wouldn't have made it."

Oh God. Skarloey urgently needed Mr. Bobbie to stop talking. His fire felt like it couldn't decide whether to flare up or fizzle out.

"The lad managed to save his brother by going out onto the ice himself and grabbing his hands to swing him toward shore. The brother survived, but there was no hope for our poor bloke; it was winter, and he was in light clothes from helping in the house. Went under in a flash and froze to death right quick."

He couldn't breathe. All of the steam he'd built up was getting caught in his tubes. It was real. All of it was real. All of it—

His brother.

Oh God, his brother.

"Mr. Bobbie!" Skarloey practically screeched, causing all assembled to wince. "The brother! What happened to him?"

"Easy, lad!" Mr. Bobbie groaned, rubbing at his head. "I don't know! Hell, I don't even know their names! Nobody does!"

Skarloey blinked, everything else shoved aside save for complete confusion. That didn't make sense; he'd had a name! It was—

...What was it?

...

Deep breath. What was his name? He knew this. He'd obviously had one! What was it?

...

However, no matter how hard he thought, he couldn't remember. It was like it had vanished, been magicked away somehow.

A tide of panic began to well up, and quickly, Skarloey tried to think of any other train of thought by which to distract himself.

Right! His brother! What was his brother's name? Once again, Skarloey searched the depths of his memory. He remembered his childhood, running through the fields of this very valley. He remembered attending school. He remembered assisting his grandmother. He remembered playing with his brother until the sun began to set.

And yet. Despite all of that, despite all of those memories, no name could be found. It seemed to have been lost to the void.

"—Loey! SKARLOEY!"

"H-huh?!"

"Lad... yer crying," Mr. Bobbie murmured, lifting a gentle cloth to Skarloey's face. Oh. He hadn't even noticed. "Alright, no more ghost stories for you," the driver decided. "Forget I said anything. We'll give you some time, and come back for you in the afternoon, alright?"

Skarloey had long learned that he couldn't actually nod, but he did murmur out an assenting "mmhmm." With that, and one last appraising look from Rheneas, the No. 2 engine set out to go.

"He's a little... delicate, isn't he?" Rheneas whispered to Mr. Bobbie, but in the close confines of the shed, Skarloey could naturally hear every word.

"He's not usually like this," Mr. Bobbie consoled. "I think he just had a nightmare. Who wouldn't, if they'd heard about a death as horrible as that?"

Every word was a nail stabbing past his iron skin, his brother's pity the hammer driving each one in. This was reality. No more could he pretend that he was just stuck in a happy dream where eventually, he'd wake up and laugh alongside his brother and shear the wool for his grandmother. No, he was a steam engine now, and that had become more starkly apparent than ever.

But what about his brother? His brother, whose name he couldn't even remember—

Breathe.

His brother, if this was real, was also a steam engine. After all, whenever he saw Rheneas, he saw his face, heard his voice, recalled his every subtle action. Given what had happened to him personally, he could only assume that his brother had also somehow died, even after his best efforts to save him. But how?

Perhaps he could find out later. For now, in the blessedly empty sheds, the tears bubbled forth once again as Skarloey began to sob, his frames heaving and smoke pouring from his funnel as a torrent of emotions overtook him. Regret. Mourning. Fear. Anguish. They all mixed together such that he could barely tell them apart.

The gold-painted word on the side of his tank was no longer just his name, no longer just a landmark, but in a cruel twist of fate, his epitaph as well.

[nine-blessed-hero]

Aderyn Griffiths, Modern AU HoK

What was the original thought that led to the creation of this character?

When I was asked to write a fic that featured 'Everyone lives' and 'Bodyguard-to-lovers' tropes for Martin and Baurus, I felt I needed a HoK to act as a foil for them and help push the story along, so Sophie Williams turned up. Then I was reminded this fic was supposed to be Fluff, Sophie turned into Aderyn. She's also a bit of an offshoot from The Prisoner mentioned in My Blade For Thee, Your Son To Be (which I never managed to finish the middle of, so I can't post the end yet XD)

How long was the process before the character reached its final version? (or a version that would be clearly recognizable as the character?)

Reasonably quickly. I came up with the Modern AU on 26 Sep 2020; by 27th the HoK had a personality, if not a name.

What was the first thing you decided on, the character's name, appearance, personality or their role in the story?

So I think it went - personality, name, appearance

And reverse, which one of the four things did you struggle with the most?

Probably her name. Sophie Williams was... fine? but there was something that felt off about it, so I decided she needed something different (cont in next question)

How did you choose their name and why? Was it simply based on vibes or is there any specific meaning behind the name? Are the reasons behind their name different in- and out of universe?

I wanted her name to match her personality, so went searching for something that was to do with flight, or travel… and came up with the welsh word for 'Bird'. So then she needed a Welsh surname. Griffiths is a common one, so she got that. But also I still like 'Sophie Williams', so she got two -- a legal and a preferred, lol. FYI it's pronounced "a'derin'".

More answers under the cut

What was the thought process behind their appearance? Did you go mostly for the aesthetic or are there other reasons they look the way they do?

Alabaster skin and red hair are from her mother, a true celt. Her fashion choices have changed drastically since The Birthday Party. She used to have a bolero hat, for example, and dress in the sort of clothes you find in cheap 'fashion' shops. But then she started getting more frugal with her lifestyle and I decided she shopped a lot at charity stores when she didn't need technical gear, so her clothing became more worn and eclectic. She's thin AF because technically she's malnourished (that's part of her arc in The Ruby Falls - putting on weight to show healing).

What is an aspect of their appearance that you like the most?

Her rich, celtic, auburn hair. It's a bit of a nod to my nephew, who managed to get his genes from maternal grandma and paternal grandfa and has the brightest orange curls you ever saw <3

What is the origin of their personality? And let's be honest - how much of it is projecting?

Ha! 60% projection, straight up. So, I toyed with making this modern AU American, but I know sweet fanny adams about day-to-day life in the USA. I do know what it's like here on the south coast of England. And, you know, you don't see many bog-standard british people in media. The Kingsman is the exception rather than the rule (I can't express how happy I was to see a major motion picture which featured someone like me as the protagonist). So I decided I wanted her to be like me, but with a cooler job, the car I wanted when I was a kid, and the chaos ramped up. She speaks like how I speak when I don't have to be formal, she makes the same shitty social blunders I do, she has the same craving for her welsh ancestry as I do, she swears about the same as I do (so if you think she's excessive... well.).

How big is their role in the story? Do they make a frequent appearance or are they a character with little "screentime" but big influence? Or are they just a favourite background guy?

In the Ruby Falls, we're in Aderyn's head most of the time as she represents the Player Character. In other stories, it varies - eg The Birthday Party, we're in Martin's for the first chapter, Baurus' the second, then the last two sections are Aderyn's.

What is their main character arc in the story? Where do they start and how do they develop? Do they get a happy ending or is their story a tragic one?

Mostly her arc is learning to live better. The friends she has at the start of the The Ruby Falls, respect her need (both for work and personally) to be constantly on the move and they keep in touch by phone & video call, and messenger apps. But they hardly ever see her, they don't really know how she lives, so they can't ever comment on the fact she lives off insta-noodles and smokes like a chimney. Martin's first act is to fill her Land Rover's cupboards with long-life good food, like fruit pouches. Baurus sends her off with homemade stews. Baragon helps her quit smoking. Ferrum says he won't train her unless she eats more protein. Because the Blades see her more often, they force her into taking better care of herself. She never loses the desire to travel, and they don't ever stop her from doing so, but they do domesticate her more than anyone else has ever managed. Ultimately, I think, she gets a happy ending.

Is there any existing character from other media that your character resembles? Was the resemblance intentional or was it a coincidence?

The titular character in Ava (2020). Despite the release date, I didn't actually see the film until 2022 so wholy coincidental... though I did spend the whole movie just being like "W. T. F. That's aderyn, it is, she's perfect."

Do you have a playlist for the character? What songs do you associate with them and why?

It's more for the whole series, but here:

Specifically Aderyn's are I'm Not A Saint by Billy Raffoul, Vagabond (feat. FJØRA) by Tommee Profitt and All Eyes On You by Smash Into Pieces.

Do you have a voice claim for the character? What do you imagine the character sounds like?

Can I be the voice-claim for my own character? Is that allowed XD If not then someone like Rose from Dr Who or Kelly Bailey from Misfits but less Landahn and more rolling.

Do you have any quotes tied to the character, either from the story itself or from another source that fit them?

"It's the ride of life, the journey from here to there, living and loving every moment like we have none to spare." - Jess Brynjulson

Have you ever made a moodboard for them?

I have... but Tumblr search is what it is and I cannot find it. Maybe I'll repost them...

Is there any memes or running jokes associated with the character, both in- and out of universe?

She sits on counters. Nobody likes that, and she's frequently yelled at to get down. ...This is also a habit I have. She's often compared by the Blades to a stray cat they feed occasionally and eventually comes to live with them. This is juxtaposed by an actual stray cat coming to live in Cloud Ruler. Her obsession with McDonalds and pot noodles is often referenced, as is Baurus' despair about it.

Are there any motifs or symbols associated with the character? How are they represented, in their design, personality or in some other way?

I probably lay it on too heavily, but her motifs are all bird related, specifically kestrels. I make mention of her 'roosting', of having her 'wings clipped', and 'yelling challenges like a bird of prey'. I've found half a dozen translations of the phrase 'little bird' too XD Sometimes I use her hair to illustrate her temper and impetuousness. It 'licks out' when she moved with purpose, it's 'flat and dim' when she's upset etc

Does the character have other characters connected to them? Do you have a family tree and "offscreen" connections made up for them or do they exist in a vacuum purely for the purpose of the story?

In The Ruby Falls, she's seen communicating with her mother and misc friends. Most of the other works are too short to include these. She's also shown having friends and connections with the characters which make up the in-game thieves guild. Someday I'm going to borrow Lecrinn and Garrus, and pop them in with Aderyn ;)

What is your general favourite thing about the character? What is your least favourite?

Most Fave: Her job is very specific and oblique, so I had to do lots of research into pentesting, physical and digital security, and the sort of tools used. It's a really interesting sector! Also my gentleman friend and housemate have happily fed this interest by acquiring documents for me. The only downside is now I keep getting digital security alerts.

Least fave: Toning back her speech patterns. I have to be really careful that her speech doesn't turn into complete eye dialect, whilst also keeping it natural.

Bonus question: share any additional thoughts, art, favourite scenes, anything you've been waiting for a chance to ramble about

Oh, hey, let me put that moodboard down here:

That's her, that's my girl. I luv her, ur honour :D

Other misc thoughts:

She has a good working knowledge of morse code and Forces sign language.

Her phone's font is wingdings

Modryn Oreyn helped her convert her car to have the living space at the back.

I decided, as a fun challenge, she'll never say 'okay'

She's touch averse

She keeps tillandsia in her car for some greenery. they came from a charity shop in the most 70's kitsch rattan holders you ever saw

In fact, most of what she owns is from charity shops.

As such she has really bad taste in furnishings and clothes. Methredhel and Carwen pick out her formal clothes for her.

[stars-of-kyber]

After a strange hit on inspiration, I’d like to present to you my newest baby

Runaway

Summary: The moment her wedding was decided upon, Kate Sharma knows she has no other option but planning her escape.

When her plan does not go as planned, fate throws a second son with quite an unusual family on her path who quickly become fundamental to see her escape plan through.

But, as new information come to light and Edwina’s future happiness is at risk, Kate will stop at nothing to save her sister from her own greedy grandparents. All the while trying to ignore the strange connection between her and the Viscount.

A slow-burnish runaway bride AU with a rather unusual fake dating situation (I promise, no love triangles and a happy ending all the way. Here’s Kathony from start to finish!).

My plan’s to finish writing it before starting to post, the same I did with Walking the Wire. The idea is around 8 to 10 chapters (but my ideas are all just that, we know we don’t take THAT much serious). I’m currently working on chapter 3.

Coming soon!

[yansurnummu]

are there any samples amongst your writing for drals that one could still read clearly even without much understanding of ESO content? :] (I have some general TES knowledge but have never played ESO myself)

oh hmm this is a good question!!

I think the most obvious answer would be the little smut oneshot with him and Zerith-var I just posted, but if that's not ur jam that's ok!

there's also a few little things I've posted on tumblr here and there, like the New Life ficlet, and the Seaside Cottage prompt answer. also in scrolling back far enough I found the original introduction I wrote for him that ended up becoming the first chapter of his fic.

his main fic follows the Necrom story in ESO very loosely and definitely not in any linear fashion, and I've tried to make it stand on its own as much as possible, so some surface-level TES knowledge might cover it as long as you don't mind possible spoilers in case you do ever play the game!

[q-iam]

Wait, why did your parents literally just give you your twin's name but backwards?

Because this one's parents hate Q'iam. They wanted exactly two children and this one already had an older sister. That this one was born alongside M'aiq was what this one's parents call a "tragic accident." Thus, they decided that Q'iam must be an evil shadow version of M'aiq. This one thinks they spend too much time with daedra.

[theropoda]

thinking abt my weird relationship with tes and how i played skyrim first when i was like 11/12 and fell in love with this mediocre game because i didn't know any better, and then played oblivion and then morrowind and fell even more in love but what i loved the most as i grew up was the stories i made in this universe, my characters, the meanings i put into this world that the writers never did. and even now i still think a lot about tes world building and put so much thought and research into something that isn't even mine.

and it's like a lot of love into something that doesn't love you back and actually even Hates you. because bethesda thinks good writing is for chums. i was excited for tes 6 once as a wee lad but now im genuinely hoping that, if anything it gets cancelled bc i don't want this thing i love to eat itself further.

i do think about my characters and how much i love them. and how i wonder what if i Moved➡️them to an original fantasy universe where the things i don't like about tes don't exist but they're so deeply anchored in the game setting and lore i dunno how id do it without making fundamentally different characters.

i know it's just video games like it's polygons. but Man. :/