#blue mountain quarry

[lomotunes2008]

Blue Mountain Mystery but Skarloey is voiced by Michael Brandon

[brendambois]

Here is a small headcannon

When the skr decided to connect to the old msr slate quarry, Duke, Handel, and Sam were ecstatic. Once the line had opened, the slate quarry became the most profitable slate quarry on the island. On the other buffer, the small raggedy blue mountain quarry was running on dimes money wise, and the mine engine and a faceless garatt engine wise. In all honesty, the bmq could make loads with their iconic namesake, "The Blue Mountains", due to te loads of slate in the hills of those peaks, but they were never in range because of their being only one engine who was able to either pull trains to lay rail or/and deliver the heavy slate to the harbours (where they have a contract for slate to

Scotland) so the trains would have to be juggled on a tightrope over lava type schedule. After a year and a half. The bmq had run down to their last $10, and the owner Jefferson Rheneas, was about to close up shop, when the manager of the Skarlowey said that they had a contract for the bmq, due to a spectral incident at the old quarry. The contract, you may ask, is to bring slate from the quarry to a construction site at Crovan's Gate to build a works for reparing, making and upgrading/updating any and all types of steam (fireless included), in return, the Skarlowey would by an engine for the bmq along with their purchase for a narrow guadge works shunter from Cuba. During the constructed of the newly nicknamed "Steamworks", the skr sent daily trains to work on building the quarry up, and during the calmest of days when trains were minimal, the skr would sometimes do construction trains to help build the quarry faster. A week before the new arrivals, "The Blue Mountain Quarry" finally finished the extention construction, and the morning of the arrivals the soon to be officially named "Stamworks" was finished. Unfortunately, during unloading of the new engines an incident occurred where the Cuban engine was accidentally knocked in to a shallow patch of water by the new Irish engine who would go to work at the quarry. Drowning in guilt that he had just killed an engine, the new quarry engine left for work as soon as he was steamed by his crew, who had been allowed to come with their engine. Luckily the yellow Cuban engine was fished out before any majior damage was done, and he got to atend the name christening and become the works very first repair and paint job. Que events of Blue mountain mystery. To this day still, the Steamworks get regular visits and the BMQ is the most profitable quarry on the Skarlowey Railway taking regular slate trains to Ulfstead castle making a tidy profit and getting regular trains of brakeroom snacks in return.

[mossmosss]

[lost-cause240]

[manfish2046]

《C.M.H. travel----SYDNEY》

A：「你從墨爾本搭十二個小時的火車到雪梨？」

B：「是的，為了看澳洲從晨朝到日夕，沿途變化的自然曠野。」

A：「到了雪梨，初見，是什麼感覺？」

B：「市中心的感受，就像台北，很熟悉的市區味道，都是被殖民過的地方，新舊混合，然後，現代性已超越殖民史的城市。」

A：「喜歡雪梨的哪個部分？」

B：「喜歡它的邊陲地帶，像是從Shelly Beach一路走過Old Quarry Swamp到Sydney Harbour National Park，沿路的灌木林和岩石海岸，可以感受到澳洲典型的陽光、空氣跟自然，還有曠野的寂寞。」

A：「那，人的部分呢？」

B：「人的部分啊？都是日常的人生際遇。

到雪梨後，印象最深刻的，是跟日本人特別有緣；

第一天，一早六點從墨爾本出發的CITYLINK火車，十二個小時後，準點抵達雪梨，晚間六點多，揹著行囊來到背包客棧，在門口遇見一位拖著大行李廂、穿著日本公主裝的獨旅年輕女生，她請求我幫她把行李搬到二樓櫃檯。

兩天後，我在雪梨閒晃到深夜，回到背包客棧，看見一位年輕男生睡在我的床舖上、聽著音樂，我跟他說：『抱歉，這是我的床，因為，出門前，我習慣將床鋪整理乾淨，上面會放一個個人的生活小物，可能讓你誤會沒人睡。』隨後，他開口說話，英語的日本腔很重，是來自大阪的青年，來雪梨找度假打工的機會。

隔天，日本青年很客氣地提出道歉，希望能請我吃飯，賠罪。我回他，出門在外交個朋友，可以一起吃個飯，沒有誰請客，彼此交流一下。於是，我們約了傍晚在唐人街碰面，到一家日本料理店共進晚餐，無法吃生食的我，很不爭氣地點了加州卷。隔日，我一早要搭火車前往藍山，他比我更早出門搭機，飛往下一個度假打工的國度—加拿大。

至於，澳洲當地人的部分，畢竟雪梨是個大都市，基本上，對話與接觸，都是親切和善的回應。

去藍山那天早晨，到7-11買咖啡，櫃台像是銀行般，裝設有鐵窗，結帳時，櫃台內的年輕男店員，詢問我是不是一早要去上學，我回他，我趕著火車要去藍山，他祝福我，有個美好的一天。

從藍山回到雪梨的當晚，我又在雪梨港邊晃蕩到深夜，看看夜景、吹吹海風、嘗嘗寂寥；由於港區的天氣真的太舒服，買了渡輪票，在港灣的幾個碼頭穿梭，一時大意，不小心在一個觀光客罕跡的碼頭耽溺太久，錯過船班，在癡等下個船班將近一小時的空檔中，在碼頭看著三名當地大叔，喝著啤酒、釣起一條超過半個人身高的不知名大魚。

回到背包客棧已晚，盥洗完畢出浴室時，遇到一位大約兩百公分高的澳洲壯男，他幫我把厚重的浴室外門撐住，要我這位當時還是瘦高的亞洲細男，從他的腋下通過，我跟他道謝，澳洲人永遠都是No Worries。

還有，隔天下午，我去參觀Sydney Operan House後面公園內的Government House時，櫃台一位白捲髮、纖細高雅且和譪的老奶奶，看著我揹著厚重的背包，熱情地要幫我寄物，我表示背包很重，可以自己來，但，老奶奶堅持從我手上接過背包，然後，當我手一放，背包就直接落地，還好沒弄傷老奶奶的手，也沒有摔壞裏頭的筆電，但，老奶奶送我一張類似書籤的小物，喜歡她對待觀光客的溫柔。」

C：「那在雪梨，有豔遇麼？」

B：「沒有！」

(IMAGE: Sydney, Australia. 2013.08.12~18. by Shawn, Ming-Huei, CHEN.)

(MUSIC: “Serene View”, by Arulo.)

(copyrights. Shawn, Ming-Huei, CHEN. 2024.09.14.)

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 1 of the Blood Ties Series.

When Your Line is Crossed, I Get Off

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: The Quarry

Warnings: Poorly written smut (p in v), slight mention of injuries

Summary: Sometimes, you just need to let off some steam and you have your very own ill-tempered, complicated redneck to help with that goal.

A/N: Help, I’m stuck on Quarry/CDC/Farm Daryl and he’s got me in a chokehold. I like it.

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

*gif is not mine

It should have made you feel ashamed; guilty, even. You were putting your family at risk. You had been for weeks. The Turn had brought out the worst in humanity. Rapists, murderers, plunderers. You had heard at least one story of each every single run into the city you made. 

You despised the city, even before the world went to shit. You had grown up in the woods. Being from a small no-name town meant sometimes it was necessary to find your own food. You helped your dad with a small garden, helped him hunt. You took over doing both when the car accident took his leg. Your mom had split when you were a toddler, so your dad was everything. You made sure he knew that by stepping up when the time came for you to care for him. 

You had made sure everything he needed was packed before grabbing anything of your own. The two of you had left to meet up with your aunt and two uncles in the mountains. The further from strangers you were, the better. Family came first. 

That’s why the tree bark scraping your back while eight inches of redneck from a nearby camp slammed into your pussy should have made you feel all sorts of bad. 

Daryl was everything your father had told you to stay away from, but when you stumbled across one another while tracking the same deer, you felt drawn to him in a way that was unfamiliar. He had slung several insults at you that you had boomeranged with some clever ones of your own. You had relented that day, retreating toward your own camp with a watchful eye over your shoulder to ensure you weren’t followed. 

You met him twice more after that. He never seemed to hunt in the same area, which made sense. It also meant that you were bound to run into one another again. It was the second meeting when it changed. He was more tense and you could sense something was different. Even after only a couple of chance encounters, you didn’t feel threatened. So, you did what any girl in your situation would do. 

You offered him a blow job. 

Given your current position, he had obviously accepted. The two of you met up regularly now to “destress.” You never really found time for conversation but you knew two things for certain: 

Daryl Dixon was an excellent hunter. 

Daryl Dixon knew how to fuck.  

“Right there! Fuck, harder!” You clawed at his shoulders, angling your knees outward while your ankles remained locked against his ass. The angle pulled him deeper, his tip pressing even harder against that delicious spot inside you. 

As per usual, you were utterly bare. Daryl had an obsession with being able to touch every inch of your skin. Licking, biting, kissing with an eagerness that made you feel worshiped. He would leave marks that— like your abused cunt— pleasantly ached for a couple of days, only leaving you yearning for the next encounter. 

Daryl, on the other hand, remained clothed. You had never seen more than his cock and a patch of his lower stomach. It was odd and he had snapped at you to stop being a nosey bitch when you had questioned. If it hadn’t been for the shame you could see in those striking blue eyes, things might have gone much differently. You had yet to bring it up again. 

“Takin’ me so well. Can’t get enough’a this, can ya?” He panted against the shell of your ear, dragging his tongue over to your jaw before claiming your mouth. He was swallowing your moans, knowing how loud you could be, especially when you were nearing your end. 

“You feel so good—mmm, ah—inside me.” His grip on your ass tightened, his thrusts becoming harder, more desperate. 

“Yeah? That’s cause this pussy’s mine, ain’t it? Made just for me to fuck.” You could feel the heat churning in your lower belly, your walls fluttering around him as your orgasm crept closer. His words only made you burn hotter. “Say it. Tell me s’mine.”

“It’s yours, Daryl, it’s yours.” You whined, grinding your hips in time with his thrusts, desperate to feel that spiraling pleasure. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it then, woman. Cum for me.” Daryl breathed, already feeling you begin to clamp down around him. He knew from experience to place a palm over your mouth, your screams loud enough to scare the birds from their perches in the canopy. You cried out against his hand, clawing at his back before settling for gathering fistfuls of his tank top as you spasmed and shook in his hold. “Ah, fuck!” 

He followed you over the edge, his warmth emptying into you with each lazy pump of his hips. You both gasped, the feeling too overwhelming for either of you to fully grasp in the midst of the pleasure consuming you. Your walls continued to contract, milking every drop and pulling it further inside of you as the world went from a kaleidoscope of colors back to the quiet greens and browns of nature. 

The redneck was always surprisingly gentle when separating from you. He pressed one last kiss to your mouth, chaste and uncoordinated, as he pulled out and lowered your legs. It was almost intimate. Not something either of you had ever verbalized wanting, but it comforted you. It made you feel less guilty, less dirty, so you never corrected him. 

However, a line was crossed that needed confronting. 

You watched him tuck himself away, already inspecting the area for tracks, while you redressed. You had slipped on your jeans and panties, fastening your bra before you decided he wasn’t going to speak on it first. 

“You came inside me, Dixon.” He gave you a sharp look. He knew exactly what he had done, whether it was intentional or not. 

“Yeah, so?” He shrugged a shoulder and began gathering his weapons and supplies. You weren’t stupid. It had clearly been an accident, but Daryl wasn’t the kind of man to apologize easily. 

“I’m not sure if your parents ever had the talk with you, but what just happened more often than not leads to the creation of these things known as babies.”

“Ain’t stupid, Y/N. I know what it means.” He snapped, his body angled toward you but his gaze off toward the direction of his camp. 

“And if that happens?”

“Won’t.”

“Humor me.” You deadpanned, your own bag now snug against your shoulder and your rifle balanced on your hip. He began to gnaw on the side of his thumb, something he did when he was uncomfortable, you had noticed. 

“We’ll handle it.”

“We?” You smirked, earning a quick lift of his middle finger. 

“Didn’t stutter, did I, Sunshine?”

“Holy shit. You breed me like a rabbit and then give me a nickname? You got a ring in your pocket for me?”

“Fuck off.”

“Three days, midday.” You were nervous, but there was nothing you could do about it now. Daryl was acting like he wasn’t feeling it but his body language screamed otherwise. Maybe he wouldn’t even show up next time. Something about that thought made your heart a little heavier but you wouldn’t linger on that. 

“Alright.” He drawled, taking the first couple of steps away from you. It seemed he had something else he wanted to say, but in the end, he chose to keep walking. 

“Dixon.” You called after him, smiling when he looked back over his shoulder. “Bring condoms.” You were pretty sure that jerk of his head was a nod before he disappeared into the trees. You turned back toward your own camp, grabbing your string of rabbits. 

Your thoughts were consumed by Daryl the entire way back, wondering if you’d ever see him again after that day. Little did you know that he forewent returning to his own camp, making a single run to the outskirts of Atlanta to grab every box of rubbers he could get his hands on. 

Chapter 2

[amnhnyc]

Trick or treat? On Trilobite Tuesday, it’s always a treat. Growing up to 6 in (15.2 cm) long, the mid-sized Ordovician trilobite Pseudogygites latimarginatus has been found in large numbers within Ontario’s Blue Mountain Formation. Occasionally, mass mortality plates featuring dozens of these distinctive pale trilobites have also been recovered from this quarry’s charcoal gray rock.

[sodor-spirit]

Skarloey Railway’s 22: 🌪️ Luke the Mist Spirit 🌪️

The latest and newest member of the Skarloey Railway Spirits, Luke was brought to Sodor to work at the new (at the time) Blue Mountain Quarry, but went missing for many years after a traumatic accident he caused upon his arrival, hiding away in the tunnels of the Blue Mountain Quarry with the help of the other Skarloey railway spirits and his new engine crew, while using his unique mist magic to try and conceal himself, until meeting Thomas who helped him discover and find out the truth of what happened to the other spirit that was on the boat with him that brought them to Sodor.

Luke is a friendly, energetic and plucky young spirit always keen to work with the other spirits and humans living on the island. Being one of the two air spirits on the narrow gauge railway (Not counting Duke since he’s duel element spirit), Luke enjoys flying and normally keeps his feet off the ground, often taking in the vast sights of his own railway and sometimes even visiting the grounds of Ulfstead Castle to visit the young deer he made friends with. Also as a result of his experiences he sometimes helps solve mysteries that other spirits or humans have, becoming like a little detective for free.

[esperfruit]

And last but not least, the Narrow Gauge Squad!

Skarloey Fletcher

Age: 64 (at disappearance)

Height: 165 cm

Rheneas Fletcher

Age: 61 (at disappearance)

Height: 167 cm

Falcon "Sir Handel" Hughes

Age: 35

Height: 170 cm

Stuart "Peter Sam" Kerr

Age: 35

Height: 168 cm

A quartet from Wales that now runs the Blue Mountain Quarry. Decades ago the Fletcher brothers ran a narrow gauge line, called the Mid Sodor Railway alongside Duke England until Skarloey and Rheneas disappeared without a trace. Unable to run the railway by his own, Duke retired and returned home to Wales and told stories to the local children. Two of them were Falcon and Stuart, who were inspired to work on a railway themselves when they grow up. One day the young men could not find Duke anymore but still pursued their goals.

When the Fletcher brothers suddenly reappeared as pseudo-spririts and the news arrived the mainland, despite attempts to cover up this supernatural phenomenon, Falcon and Stuart, now calling themselves "Sir Handel" and "Peter Sam" left their workplace, the Talyllyn Railway to be transfered to Sodor.

Skarloey is a friendly elderly man, who enjoys his works just as much as he used to but he can also be very authoritarian and can send fear into other with his deep booming voice. His younger brother Rheneas had a reputation as being gallant thanks to his work ethic and looks after Peter Sam.

Sir Handel is pompous, grumpy and competitive and with how his engine can pull tiny express trains, his demeanor can be easily compared to Gordon, he also hates to be mistaken for a relative of James just for sharing the same last name.

Peter Sam is polite, optimistic and easy to please as he often does not need much to be happy. He is one of the few drivers who can handle trucks flawlessly. He is a bit gulliable and can take teasing a bit too literal. His engine is something he is very protective of and was very upset when its funnel got destroyed in an accident.

Duncan Barclay

Age: 29 cm

Height: 175 cm

A former factory worker with a foul mouth and a bad attitude. He doesn't have much appreciation for passangers and just wants to get his job done. Duncan doesn't really like to work to begin with and only gets along with Rusty, who can motivate him to get through the day without getting into any fights. He likes rock'n roll and jokingly liked to call his engine's occassional wobbeling that.

Rusty Hornsby

Age: 26

Height: 162 cm

A maintenance worker at the Blue Mountain Quarry. Rusty is seen in a good mood most of the time and loves to help others out with their skills. They not only can repair engines and rails but are also skilled at medical care in case someone did get injured. Rusty and and Duncan are very close to each others despite their opposite personalities. They were a bit cautious to work at a mountain at first because of an incident they had with a boulder once.

Luke Stuart

Age: 22

Height: 159 cm

A young man from Ireland that came to Sodor to work there but went into hiding for a while after he was involved in an incident, where he thought to have accidentily killed Victor. Luke hated himself for thinking of himself as a murderer and looked for shelter at the Blue Mountain Quarry, where Skarloey and the others helped to hide and protect him. He was more than relieved to finally learn Victor is alive and holds no ill-will towards Luke and is now an official Sodor resident, driving a tiny green narrow gauge engine. Luke is very shy and timid and also self-councious about how short he is. He used to get picked on a lot back in Ireland and now tries to get over his insecurities.

[jessythebunny]

🚂Skarloey🎀

❤Skarloey is the oldest engine in the Skarloey railway, He acts as the leader of the whole group, and he is the number one just like Thomas, but he's working in the blue mountain quarry now

❤Skarloey is a reliable engine who will help anyone who needs a helping hand and keep secrets and he does not allow them, because he knows that this is wrong

❤Skarloey is very nervous, and he does not like to mess around at all, and if someone pisses him off, Skarloey raises his voice at him and sometimes he loses control and does not control his temper

❤He is almost close to Peter Sam and Rheneas and Sir Handel, and loves working with them and listening to him. He is also close to Edward and likes to drink tea with him in his free time. He has little patience for Duncan, even though he is always frowning and complaining a lot. He treats Luke like his son

❤Skarloey loves bodybuilding. Although he is short in stature, he is very strong and can pull dozens of stone carts in his engine form

[asanjou]

oh my god saw your tags i would love any and all quarry lore you have to offer. tell me about her...

HEEHEE so the first toku quarry was the daiei kogyo quarry in yorii, saitama (though i believe it might be owned by a different company now?) and throughout its use as a filming location and i think to this day it's still an active quarry, so it might look different depending on what year the show you're watching is from. from what ive read it's kinda far from residential areas and since it was in use the loud noises from the explosions wouldn't have been out of the ordinary anyway.

read moring cuz i ended up rambling

mt iwafune, the current toku quarry, was in active use as a quarry from the edo period right up until mid showa when concrete became more widely used, so demand fell and production declined. it's kinda hard to find details on when exactly mining stopped entirely, but i found a tripadvisor review mentioning it was still ongoing on the north side of the mountain (the usual filming location is the south side) in 2018. i think it's stopped entirely at this point though.

the cliff stage association (who hold a concert in the quarry every year!) was formed in 1999 and the earliest appearance of mt iwafune im aware of was in gingaman around the same time so that's probably when it became available for location hire! i can't say if it's because the yorii quarry area was unusable or if iwafune is just a more ideal location, but i believe iwafune has more convenient amenities given that it's a closer to the nearby town and it was already kind of a tourist destination for religious reasons. they're about the same distance away from tokyo.

it's been a minute since i watched any ~00 toku but i think the switch from one to the other as the usual quarry was probably pretty gradual because they don't stop using the yorii quarry completely. there's other spaces that are used for filming too that are a bit more built up, for example im pretty sure the place the shinken red vs shinken blue scene is filmed is part of the yorii quarry?

most of my sources are jpn pilgrimage blogs so apologies if it turns out ive said something completely wrong but that's what i know rn!

you can also get your photo taken in front of an explosion in either quarry btw. i think it's also the only way to get into the cliff stage because you can't go in without permission

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[bruhstation]

I just sent you an ask but now I’m like imagining how these plots would work with humans like is Luke living in the fucking woods eating berries and shit because he thinks he killed a man 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 bump into a man and he falls in the water and you just run away wracked with guilt and shame convinced you can never show your face to anyone again. thank you so much for igniting this spark in me I’m having a really good wonderful time. The way they can act so childishly 😭😭😭😭

ngl that's pretty similar to what I have for luke in casa tidmouth. the narrow gauge folks (people that give thomas and percy info on what's currently hot news on sodor, usually the supernatural) hid luke inside the quarry, occasionally lending a helping hand while hidden in plain sight. I'm still working on the proper reason why he's the spotlight of the blue mountain quarry arc because damn this story has way too many characters but I think it has something to do with him knowing too much about the supernatural? does he know stuff about lady? is he a theorist? I'll go on that later because I ALSO HAVE TO DRAW HIS DESIGNNNNNNN

the image of cstm luke hiding in the woods eating berries and drinking mountain water is kind of hilarious imo

[calitheheart]

"Skarloey's boys, they call us."

so here's something I've been whittling away at ever since I got back into the railway series - a ttte fire emblem-esque au! it's a niche within a niche but I've had it in my brain for ages and just wanted to get SOMETHING out! Presenting Sodor Cipher!

To start off, some of the members of the Skarloey - Sir Handel, Duncan and Rusty! In my general canon for this au I like to imagine the Skarloey as a Duchy with a heavy emphasis on their physical prowess and mineral mining thanks to their close proximity to the Culdee Fell mountains and the Blue Mountain Quarry - As such, Shane Dooiney is the industry capital for the area. Being far out from the rest of the towns and kingdoms means that many come to the Skarloey for a fresh start, and those that do inevitably forge stronger bonds than they've ever known before. Those bufferbeam-style belts aren't just for show, Skarloey's boys are so good at what they do that they have the sheer force of will to expertly maneuver mining equipment with just their bodies.

As for character bios/ mini backstories (can you tell ive never actually made an au before and dont exactly know the most eloquent way to explain things oop) we've got:

Sir Handel - Once known as Falcon in another kingdom, moved to the Skarloey after receiving a knighthood to get away from the life of a knight. Despite maintaining that he's an excellent mentor, he is rash and impulsive - all for a good cause though, he just wants to get through the day and clock off for some good-old-fashioned banter. Still good with a sword, but prefers to not have to touch it in favour of staunchly gathering resources.

Duncan - Once a lower member of a Mercenary group, he learned that being brutally vocal was the only way to get by. Not a bigot, but not exactly a saint either, he has a hard time letting new people into his life - not exactly the best disposition to have when you're leaving your life behind to work in the chattiest mountains on Sodor. Despite being in a merc group and being a supposed dab hand with an axe, he isn't the most well-travelled.

Rusty - Born in the Mainland before immediately being raised in Skarloey, Rusty has an undying love for the people of the Duchy and the rest of Sodor in general. They have a keen eye for detail and are quick to educate fellow knights on proper conduct - even if they don't exactly ask for it. Rusty runs double duty, conducting inspections in the mining sectors and guarding Crovan's Gate as a surprisingly adept Halberdier.

I'm still working out the specifics of details in this au as it's a blend of each era and general medieval fantasy worldbuilding, so I welcome any and all questions ! <3

[little-pup-pip]

Just curious, what requests do you have in your queue/to do currently? If you're ok with saying it that is :]

Oh boy, that's a bigger question than last time someone asked! I have over 200 waiting requests at this point!! Because of that this got very very long, so I put the rest under the cut! Like last time, this is in order of how recently I received the request, and doesn't mean I'm too busy to take new requests!!

Ibara saegusa (enstars)

Monochrome oranges cats and angels

Gloomy bear

Another rockruff (maybe)

Cult of the lamb (specifically the lamb)

Llewellyn Watts (Murdoch Mysteries)

Jake (trailer park warlock)

Cult of the lamb (pet dreaming themed)

Bear therian

Selkie

Ice bear (we bare bears)

Tubbo (maybe)

Snow leopard

Pink

Australian shepherd (pupre)

Cassie (fnaf: ruin)

Draik (neopets)

The rainbow fish

Black kitten + space

Pumpkin head (maybe, needs more research)

Alice in wonderland

Sheep

Someone's OC Avery & siblings

Gothic

Star catcher (MLP)

Masc version of my druid board

Scrooge CG (2009 film)

Beetlejuice

Superstar daycare (fnaf)

1950s + ocean

Pandas + light purple and black

Dandelions

Willy wonka CG (recent movie)

Maki Harukawa (Danganronpa)

Kidcore Halloween + pumpkin puppy Webkinz

Fruit bat

Mermaid

Pastel purple + pandas

Robocar Poli

Brown, lime green and forest green puppy

Weird Barbie CG

Shiny Vaporeon

Where the wild things are

Squid

Dylan (the magic roundabout)

Conner CG (Detroit become human)

Mitsuri kanroji (demon slayer)

Minecraft mooshrooms

Sharks or wolves (haven't decided)

Hot Wheels

Miffy

Fox

Sharks

Zombies

Vincent (dead plate)

Vintage kitty dreaming

Deadpool

Shane CG (stardew valley)

Wolf pup

Celestia and Luna (MLP)

Soft blue and yellow

Pascal (animal crossing)

Pastel blue and pink

Batman CG

Ram

Osamu dazai (bungo stray dogs)

Dylan (the quarry)

Rain/nature + white rabbits

Ox

Penguin + dinosaur

Noah (total drama island)

Vision CG (marvel)

Light blue

Bumble bees + lavender

Yellow + ducks

Bearded vulture

Barn owl

Queen barb (trolls world tour)

Oliver (vocaloid)

Light green light brown and beige

Mind (Chonny Jash/CCCC)

Cinnamoroll + emu otori (project sekai)

Yellow+ chicks and puppy stuffies

Seam CG (deltarune)

Plants vs zombies

Viktor (arcane)

Queen of trash CG (Elmo goes to grouch land)

John Constantine (Justice League Dark)

Aziraphale (good omens)

Scenecore

Musa (winx club)

Leap frog

Hyper feminine puppy

Crow + black cat

Totodile + bodies of water

Bees

Sackboy (Little Big Planet) and or My Melody

Baby crocodile

Animal crossing

Pastel kitten

Doki doki literature club

Keralis (Hermitcraft, maybe)

90s grunge

Tula tones (novi stars)

Eevee + dragons

Kitten + stars

Ratchet (rescue bot academy)

Pastel shark

Mikan Tsumiki (Danganronpa)

Mushrooms

Grey + Ross federman youtooz

Sparkly dragon

Blue and purple + puppies

Ducks + alt/Gothic lean

Cinnamoroll

Shadow (sonic)

Jellyfish

Boyfriend.xml (Friday night funkin')

Puppet (fnaf)

Golden retriever + yellow and blue

Bernese mountain dog

Strawberries

Genshin impact

Len or Miku

Toothless (httyd)

Eddworld

Donnie (rise of the tmnt)

The princess and the grilled cheese sandwich

Pastel goth princess

SpongeBob

Karako Pierot (hiveswap)

Young Michael Afton

Soft fox

Great pyrenees + farm

Ike eveland

Invader Zim + neon green

Julius Caesar (Octavian, night at the museum, waiting until March for this one)

Scorpion

Vampire squid

Golden retriever (again, lol)

Cats + playing outside

Border Collie

Tiger

Argos CG (World of Mr. Plant) 

Pochacco

Mortal Kombat

marble cross fox/forest/fantasy (I'm figuring this one out still)

Puppy + SpongeBob

characters from Project Sekai, Hoshino Ichika, Mochizuki Honami, Akiyama Mizuki and Kusanagi Nene.

Baby vulture

Frog with more fem themes

Rain world/slugcat

Dark academia/cottagecore

Border Collie

Modded smash hit rooms

Crying child (fnaf)

Agent Smith CG (the matrix)

Katamari

Enjolras (les miserable)

Rolfe DeWolfe CG (Rockafire Explosion)

Bugbo

Slime rancher

Puppet (fnaf)

CosMc's

Parado (Kamen Rider)

Tally hall

Gordon (all engines go)

Spinel (Steven universe)

Cater diamond (twisted wonderland)

Rockabilly (probably)

Felix Lee

Jing yuan CG (Hsr)

Charles Xavier CG (X-Men)

Toki wartooth (metalocalypse)

Naoto Shirogane (persona 4)

Kitoto (I don't know what he's from)

17th century dutch

Sirena von boo (monster high)

Jake (miss peregrines home for peculiar children)

Minecraft

Sees behind trees

Allay (Minecraft, I think)

Spinosaurus screenshots or products

Tecchou (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Barbara (genshin impact)

Tasmanian devil

Spamton CG (deltarune)

Spinosaurus

Grunge + lop eared bunnies

Yume-Nikki

Daxter (jak and daxter)

Madness combat for puppies

James Sunderland (silent Hill)

Shirokuma (Danganronpa)

Leo (IDW comic)

[rosanna-writer]

I Knew You Were Trouble

Summary: Every hunter had a story about the Goatman, tales whispered around campfires of a strange creature with the body of a man and the hooves and horns of a goat, the reason animals were sometimes found shredded to pieces and for the warnings to be back from the woods before dark. Black fur, they said, dark as a moonless night, and strange, otherworldly violet eyes. Feyre Archeron believed it was all a crock of shit. Warnings: Dubious consent Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~3.2k

GOATSAND IS HERE!!!! You can read all about mountain goat shifter Rhys here on AO3 or under the cut. Happy Halloween!!!!

Every hunter had a story about the Goatman, tales whispered around campfires of a strange creature with the body of a man and the hooves and horns of a goat, the reason animals were sometimes found shredded to pieces and for the warnings to be back from the woods before dark. Black fur, they said, dark as a moonless night, and strange, otherworldly violet eyes.

Feyre Archeron believed it was all a crock of shit.

She'd seen the mountain goats staring down from the peaks high up above the woods she hunted in. They scaled near-vertical cliff faces as if gravity were a mere suggestion. On some days, when game was plentiful enough that Feyre could think of something besides the hunger gnawing at her, she dreamed about running away to a cabin so high up, you'd need wings—or a mountain goat's hooves—to reach it.

And other days, she could have sworn a goat was watching her. It was probably nothing more than a coincidence or a trick of the light, and she'd never seen anything close to the strange creature in the stories. There was absolutely no such thing as the Goatman.

With her cupboards bare and her belly empty, there was no choice but to stay in the forest late, even as night began to fall. It had taken her all day to fell a deer, with just enough sunlight left to see by as she skinned and gutted it. The woods were dark as she hefted the carcass over her shoulders and carried it home.

The stories said the Goatman could smell the blood from a fresh kill, and Feyre had been warned to never, ever carry meat or a pelt back with her after dark, lest she attract the monster lurking in the woods. But she refused to return empty-handed and let her family starve.

As she trekked through the forest, Feyre did her best to ignore the hunger pangs, tried not to think about how long her empty stomach would be churning while the meat roasted. It almost distracted her enough not to notice the sound of twig snapping.

Almost.

Feyre stopped in her tracks, heart leaping to her throat. It wasn't unusual for the trail of blood from a hunter's quarry to attract a bear or a mountain lion. Reaching around the carcass, she pulled an arrow from the quiver at her back.

Another snap of a twig. And if she wasn't mistaken, footsteps. "Who's there?" Feyre called.

The figure that emerged from the trees wasn't another hunter like she'd expected. And not an animal, either. This creature was something else entirely.

Blue-black fur, the color of a raven's feathers, covered its entire body. Long, muscular legs—only two, the creature stood like a man on goat's legs—and a bare, broad chest. Curling horns. A stump of a tail peeking out from a pair of black pants. Violet eyes with horizontal slits for pupils. And the most beautiful face Feyre had ever seen.

Perhaps there had been more to the stories of the Goatman than Feyre had thought.

"There you are," the creature said, its voice an oddly sensual purr that had the the hair on the back of Feyre's neck sticking up. "I've been looking for you."

Feyre dropped the carcass and nocked her arrow. She drew the bow, aiming right for the creature's heart. Or at least, where the heart would be if it had one.

The Goatman stepped closer, beginning to circle her. Feyre pivoted in place, keeping her aim locked. The creature's lips twisted into a smirk."Is that venison for me, darling?" it said.

The stories had never said anything about the Goatman being able to talk. Or calling anyone darling. Feyre scowled to cover her surprise. "Absolutely not," she said.

The creature kept circling. Feyre's aim didn't waver.

"Are you sure you couldn't be persuaded to share?" the creature said, eyes glinting like stars. "Unless I should take this to mean that you have quite the appetite."

Feyre's hand tightened around her bow. If the Goatman meant to attack her or steal the carcass, there was no reason to taunt her like this. It wanted something from her, and she couldn't figure out what.

"I don't share."

"Good. I don't, either."

There was an edge to the creature's voice that was almost possessive, but Feyre must have been imagining that. The Goatman was nothing like she'd been led to believe—she'd just been caught flat footed. Nothing more.

Feyre wouldn't make that mistake again. She let the arrow fly.

And the Goatman dissolved into smoke and shadow that the arrow sailed right through before embedding itself into a nearby tree. Feyre pulled another from her quiver and nocked it, scanning the trees for any sign of the creature. For a moment, her shaking breath was the only sound in the forest.

But then the creature spoke behind her. "Half a second faster, and I'd be bleeding on the ground," it said, and if Feyre wasn't mistaken, there was a note of admiration in its voice. She spun in place again and found the Goatman grinning at her.

"I'll skin and gut you, too," Feyre spat. She could use the extra money the Goatman's pelt would bring in, anyway.

"While I'd love nothing more than to see you try," the Goatman said, leaning indolently against a nearby tree, "I have an alternate proposal for you."

Feyre said nothing, just waited for it to go on. Her arm had begun to ache with the strain of holding the bowstring back, but she forced herself to keep the pain off her face. As she glared, the creature crossed its arms over its broad, muscled chest, the gesture strangely human.

"Tell me your name and offer me half your venison, and in return, I'll ensure you arrive home safely this evening," the Goatman said.

For a long moment, Feyre considered that, turning the creature's words over in her mind as she searched for a loophole—and found one. It might let her go just this once, but Feyre was a huntress who'd return to these woods again. And after this time, she might not emerge quite so lucky. The Goatman seemed intent on toying with her, and perhaps it was merely biding its time.

"Ensure I arrive home safely every time I leave this forest. And tell me your name too," Feyre said.

The Goatman pushed off the tree and stalked towards her. As if in response, Feyre felt a tug in her chest, the strange sensation that there was a string tying them together that was pulling him closer. Her fear seemed to dissolve.

"Nothing in these woods or mountains will ever harm you. If anyone so much as considers it, I'll tear out their throat myself," the creature said. The words sounded like a vow.

Goats ate plants, not meat—Feyre didn't understand what it wanted, but the promise was enough for her. The woods were dangerous, and if this was an opportunity to bind the mountains' most feared creature to her side, then that was worth the loss of a few pounds of meat. If she had its protection, she'd give it the whole damn carcass in exchange.

"I accept those terms," Feyre said. She slipped the arrow back into the quiver, lowered her bow, and stepped back from the carcass at her feet. "And now I'm offering you half the meat."

The Goatman crouched before her and tore into the carcass. As Feyre watched it eat, the sensation of a golden thread tugging at her chest grew stronger. She knew with a certainty that ran deeper than bone, all the way down to the core of who she was, that the Goatman was hers.

A monstrous urge of her own began to overtake her, an urge to mark him, to claim him as hers and no one else's.

He straightened, holding her gaze as he wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. Those otherworldly eyes had turned a deeper shade of violet. "Your name, mate?" he said, voice rough.

Mate. The word should have sounded foreign, but a wild, feral instinct Feyre hadn't known was buried within her had her wanting to roar back in recognition. MateMateMate. She let the bow fall to the ground and stepped closer.

"Feyre," she said, though if he called her nothing but mate, she couldn't say she'd mind.

He'd missed a smear of blood on his mouth, and she wiped it away. His tongue darted out and flicked the pad of her thumb as she trailed her fingertips along his cheek, then up to the base of the horns that curled back from his forehead.

"Feyre darling," he whispered slowly, a plea and an exploration of the feel of her name on his lips.

She curled her fingers around a horn. "Give me yours, too. Mate."

"Rhysand for my prisoners and my enemies, Rhys for friends, and anything at all for you."

"Rhys will do," Feyre said, running her fingers along the ridges of his horn slowly. She wanted to commit every last bump to memory.

Rhys hissed, eyes fluttering shut. Feyre stopped the movement of her hand, afraid for a moment that she'd hurt him. But the low noise he made in the back of his throat was nothing but pure need.

Feyre didn't need any more encouragement to keep running her hand up his horn, but Rhys said, "That is very sensitive."

"I thought mountain goats used them to fight?" Feyre said, cocking her head. Her hand reached the top of his horn, and she slid it back the other way, towards the base, achingly, painfully slowly.

"Not the undersides, and they have other uses. I'll show you," Rhys said, nearly breathless. Before Feyre had a chance to ask what he meant, he bent those strange goat legs and dropped to his knees before her. He grabbed her free hand and brought it to his other horn, curling her fingers around it in the same way. "I'd never allow anyone but my mate to touch my horns like this."

A wave of feral pride crashed over Feyre at the thought of being the only one permitted to touch his most sensitive places. The urge to put her hands everywhere and claim him as hers and only hers returned in full force.

Rhys leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the soft place at the bottom of her abdomen, just above her pelvic bone. Feyre canted her hips towards his face. It was invitation enough.

He peeled off her leggings, growling in satisfaction at the scent of her arousal, a bestial noise that sent Feyre's heart racing. Her grip tightened around the base of his horns as his hands found her knees, thumbs brushing the soft skin just inside her thighs.

Their eyes locked for a moment as he stared up at her, reverent and hungry all at once. The thread connecting them seemed to vibrate with anticipation, taut with tension that was just begging to be released.

And then his tongue was on her cunt.

He licked a stripe up her center, dragging his tongue slowly and savoring the way she used his horns to nudge his face closer, a silent plea for more. Rhys obliged, tracing the same path with his tongue a second time before finding her clit.

His exploration of her was thorough and relentless. The tip of his tongue circled the nub until he found just the right combination of speed and pressure to make her come undone. She could feel him cataloguing her reactions, memorizing every single movement of his tongue that made her moan or buck her hips.

It wasn't long until Feyre was incapable of coherent thought beyond more more more, but the one thing she was sure of was that he was already preparing to do this again.

His tongue didn't stop circling her clit, even as he slid a finger into her. With his mouth and hand moving in tandem, her grip on his horns felt like the only thing tethering her to the earth. She found her release, pussy clenching around his finger as her vision went white for a moment.

It didn't feel like enough. She was beginning to think that it would never be enough, not as he stood and held her gaze as he licked her wetness from his finger. Her breath was still ragged as she surged forward to kiss him, tasting herself as she pressed her tongue into his mouth.

Rhys slid both hands under her sweater, cupping both breasts before breaking the kiss to slide it off her. At some point, Feyre's hands had settled on his chest as she nudged him back towards the closest tree.

The bark dug into his back as her mouth found his again. She'd nearly shot him within minutes of meeting; now Feyre had him pinned against a tree, and Rhys wanted to thank her for all of it. The scent of her arousal, the heat of her so close, and the taste of her still on his tongue left him beyond words, too far gone to tell her that he was hers to do anything she wanted with, that he'd take anything at all she'd give him. He merely tilted his head back, baring his throat to her.

His dark fur was soft against her face as Feyre dragged her lips from his collarbone up to his jaw. She ran her hands through the soft fur covering his chest, but when she reached the waistband of his pants, his fingers were already there, scrambling to undo the buttons.

Once his cock was free, she hooked a leg around his waist. Rhys wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer while keeping her from falling. Her hands found his horns again, dragging his face to hers, and as they kissed, he moaned into her mouth.

He slid into her, slowly at first, but Feyre growled and pressed her hips forward to take more of him. Full—she'd never felt so gloriously full, and the golden thread between them seemed to grow even stronger as they moved their hips in time. The arm around her waist kept her steady, even as his free hand seemed to be everywhere at once, squeezing her ass, cupping her breasts, skimming her ribs.

She tipped over the edge, another orgasm tearing through her just as he came. Somewhere in the distance, the mountains trembled.

Still panting, she let her head drop to his shoulder. Rhys kept holding her, murmuring something too soft to hear beyond the words mate and darling. He stroked her hair, and even though she was naked in the forest and in the arms of a man who was half-goat, Feyre felt safe enough to fall asleep after a long day of hunting.

At some point, she stirred, vaguely aware of the sensation of being carried upward. Rhys pressed a kiss to her forehand and whispered, "It's a steep drop and a long way down. I suggest you don't look until you're used to it." She drifted off again.

Feyre woke again to the smell of roasting meat—roasting venison. It was still dark, and tucked under the softest blanket she'd ever touched, Feyre had half a mind to go back to sleep. But curiosity got the better of her, and she sat up.

Lanterns illuminated the log cabin she found herself in, bathing it in a cozy yellow glow. A glance out the window was enough to tell her it was located near the top of the mountain, well above the timberline. The terrain up here was rocky and barren; building a wooden structure like this seemed almost impossible.

Someone had taken off her threadbare hunting leathers and replaced them with a man's shirt and sleep pants. Both were soft, made of the same fine black fabric, if a bit large for her. The cabin was quiet, with no sign of whoever had changed her clothes.

The door opened, bringing with it a gust of chilly wind before it shut immediately. At first, she thought it had blown open on its own. But she glanced down to see a black mountain goat in the foyer—a true goat, with four legs—with a pack full of firewood on its back. If it weren't for the now-familiar violet eyes, she would have thought it had wandered in.

"Rhys?" Feyre said.

The goat shifted and changed, hooves becoming feet and hands, pupils going round, fur disappearing to reveal tan skin. He wore nothing but the same black pants from earlier, and Feyre's fingers itched to trace the tattoos that swirled along his chest and shoulders. He'd become a man, utterly normal in every way other than his absurd beauty and the horns that still curled from his forehead.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said softly.

Feyre didn't bother to hide her staring, and Rhys looked unsure of himself, if only for a moment. "You didn't. I was already up," she said quickly. She tore her eyes from him and spotted the firewood from the pack arranging itself into a neat pile near the hearth. Some sort of magic, then. "What is this place?"

"Home."

Before she could ask if he meant his or theirs—or even consider which she wanted it to be—her stomach growled audibly. She'd barely eaten all day, and it was almost certainly past dinnertime. "Are— Are you cooking?"

"My mate offers me half a carcass to accept our bond, and you think I'd let it go to waste?" Rhys said, moving into the kitchen. He'd turned his back to her, but Feyre knew he was rolling his eyes. "Of course I'm cooking."

Feyre followed him, and though a part of her felt as though she should angrily point out that he'd tricked her into accepting a bond she hadn't known about, she found that…she couldn't bring herself to mind. The feeling of a thread tied to her ribs was still there, and along with it, a sense of soul-deep belonging.

Rhys checked something in the oven, then stood, and Feyre couldn't help but admire the lethal grace and powerful muscles in his back. Hers. She wanted to put her hands on him again, to memorize every inch of his human form like she had with his horns earlier.

And he knew—that was obvious enough from the smirk as turned and he leaned back against the counter. But his eyes went soft as he added, "Your family is taken care of, by the way. I wouldn't have brought you up here if they weren't."

Feyre considered that for a moment; he'd been watching for a while, then. "How long were you planning this for?" In truth, she didn't care, but it was easier than asking why.

Rhys answered her real question anyway. "The woods are dangerous. I wanted to know why you kept returning to them every day."

She still had more questions—mostly about the particulars of horns and hooves and how exactly his shifting magic worked—but Feyre had everything she needed to know to make a decision. She closed the distance between them, letting him wrap both arms around her waist as she rested her head on his chest.

In answer to a question Rhys hadn't been able to bring himself to ask, Feyre whispered, "I'm staying."

[etherealstrike]

A werid dream I had about.. a new TTTE special? + ttte special idea

The general theme about this new ttte special was fantasy and like abunch of mystical stuff happening, it starts with a new town and station and branch lines being built in this big forest on sodor, from what I remember it was like a big forest and it was separated from the rest of sodor by a river. (Probably wouldn't work in Canon but oh well!)

The opening shot begins with percy talking with STH at a new station in the forest, from what I remember percy had the mail carts for some reason, anyway all is nice and well (I don't remember what STH and percy were talking about) until donald comes flying past with a goods train, he's become a runaway and eventually he crashes near the bridge onto some rocks (he proper like, goes off the rails aswell)

I don't remember anything else than that opening scene BUT I do remember some stuff having to do with inside the forest and ruins of a castle and this one specific scene where I was near this flagpole with a red triangular flag on it, and the flagpole were on these castle ruins, also I distinctly remember one of the narrow gauge engines (sir handel I think?) In the back of the scene where donald crashes.

Overall conclusion? It would probably make a good special with some storybuilding, i call it, "mystery of the forest" , anyway onto a ttte special idea I had!

Curse of the ghost train! *creepy music*

it begins like this, one day on the blue mountain quarry, the mountain engines decide to make a memorial altar to honor proteus on the anniversary of his death, on the same day, Thomas comes to the quarry to collect some rocks and stuff, anyway he's doing just fine but then suddenly he crashes into the altar, and knock the picture of proteus over, his driver and firemen quickly put it back in its place before skarloey or anybody notices, anyways as thomas is going through knapford to head back to tidmouth, he has this feeling that something is horribly wrong/ something is watching him, and so he doesn't pay attention to the signals and bumps into duck, duck is obviously pissed at him but eventually Thomas says sorry and goes on the correct line to tidmouth, anyway as duck is heading home he also feels this really horrible sense and that something is watching him, but he ignores it.

What follows is proteus basically haunting every single engine on the island, moving trucks, making hallucinations, pushing engines into one another, and the one way to resolve this? Talk it out with the ghost before it sends sodor crumbling!

Anyway TOODLES!