icebrooding

[dream--writing]

Hey everyone! So I wanted to do something a little different. I’ve been recently been getting into the Thomas & Friends fandom here on Tumblr as the show was one of my favorites growing up and I’ve been having a lot of fun rewatching episodes and discovering ones I never saw before. So today I wanted to try a rewrite of the episode Escape! Not because I think it’s badly written, not at all. I just wanted to have a bit of fun with it, and add some more Douglas/Oliver as it is one of my favorite ships in the fandom. This was mainly inspired by the @asktrio516 au, which gives the engines the ability to transform into a human form. I feel that is a gross simplification, and I do apologize. But without any further ado, please enjoy!

Douglas was pulling a train of heavy coal trucks when he spotted Edward sitting in the yard talking to Trevor, and immediately became annoyed. “Come on, Edward!” he called as he steamed by. “Stop gossipin’ in the sun when there’s work ta be done.” Edward huffed but bid goodbye to Trevor to get back to work.

Later, Edward found Douglas standing by the coal chute and spoke to him. “There’s nothing wrong with having a chat with an old friend,” he said firmly. Douglas only huffed in response. Edward sighed and rolled his eyes. “You and he have a lot in common, you know.” “Like what?” Douglas snorted. Edward got a look on his face that could almost be described as devious. “Scrap,” he said quietly, crossing his arms. Douglas gasped, face turning pale. “Don’ mention that word! It makes ma wheels wobble!” It wasn’t that long ago that he or Donald or both of them faced the threat of being sent home and scrapped. Fortunately, the others had stepped in and pleaded with Sir Topham Hat, and the twins were allowed to stay. But even hearing about scrap made Douglas nervous. “It does the same to Trevor,” replied Edward, a kind smile returning to his face. “He was being sent to the scrapyard but the Vicar and I saved him. And now he’s really useful again.” Douglas felt guilt creep into his stomach. Perhaps he and Trevor were more similar than he had thought. “I’m sorry, Edward,” he said, “and I’ll apologize ta Trevor too. It’s just that there’s so much work ta be done, it’s making me irritated.” “You’re not wrong. Sir Topham Hat does need another steam engine here.” “Aye, and quickly!”

Around the same time, on the far part of the island, a steam engine and his break van were puffing through the countryside as fast as the engine could. They were determined not to go back to where they had come from, and to get as far away as possible. But little by little, the engine was losing steam, until he was forced to stop completely. In a cloud of gold dust, the engine transformed into a bruised and tattered young man, and collapsed. “Mr. Oliver!” The break van had transformed into a shorter man, also bruised and tattered, and he ran up to the fallen engine. Oliver breathed heavily, filling his lungs with precious air. He also wished for water, but that would do him no good. “I think...” he wheezed, “I’ve run out of coal. I’m sorry Toad.” This was a problem. Humans could hide more easily, but an engine could cover more distance more quickly. But without coal, the latter was impossible. Toad squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t be sorry, Mr. Oliver. You’ve gotten us this far!” It was true, they had finally reached Sodor. But now what? Oliver looked around. “Toad, there, in the distance,” he said, pointing. “D’you suppose that’s a station?” Toad squinted in the direction Oliver indicated. “I think it might be, sir.” Oliver stumbled to his feet, Toad supporting him. Oliver gave an apologetic look to his friend. “Can you help me over? We’ll rest there.” The break van agreed, and the two slowly made their way over, finding a secluded part to sit down and rest. Oliver groaned, his worn parts protesting. After a long while of silence, he looked over to see Toad had fallen asleep. He’s exhausted, poor thing, Oliver thought. He hugged his friend close. “We’ll be okay, Toad, I promise,” he said as he watched the day turn to dusk.

That night, Douglas took the midnight goods train to that very same yard. As he had nothing to take back, he walked a little, stretching out his arms and legs. But as he passed a nondescript wall, he heard something that sounded like a gasp and he froze in place. He looked around, confused. “Is someone there?” Douglas called quietly.

Oliver had both hands covering his mouth, heart hammering against his chest. He hadn’t meant to make any noise, but when he had suddenly woken up to a whistle and approaching footsteps, he couldn’t help it. Toad had also woken up, eyes wide with fear. They were both thinking the same thing. What if they were discovered? Would they be sent back to their old railway? That would be the end for both of them. “Is someone there?” A voice called out with a thick Scottish accent. It didn’t sound like it belonged to a foreman, but Oliver had come too far to take any chances. As the footsteps came closer, he spied a metal pole lying nearby and curled his fingers around it.

Douglas received no reply to his question, but he was sure there was someone there. He approached the wall cautiously. He had just turned the corner when a metal pole was swung at him, barely missing his head. “Fizzlin’ fireboxes!” he yelped. “D-don’t come any closer!” a voice stammered. “Just forget you ever saw u-me and there’ll be no trouble!” Douglas stared. It was an engine, no doubt about it. His hair was loose and unkempt, with several white streaks running through it. His clothes were in a similar state, and his skin was marked with several cuts and bruises. He held the pole defensively in front of him, and his eyes were dark with distrust. And yet he was the most stunning person, engine or human, Douglas had ever seen.

He had apparently stared for too long, as the engine growled, “I said, go away!” Before he could raise the pole again, Douglas snapped out of it and held up his hands placatingly. “I mean ye nae harm!” he said, but the engine only narrowed his eyes. “Ma name is Douglas, I’m an engine from the Fat Controller’s railway.” The engine’s eyebrows raised. “The Fat Controller?” He straightened a little, but he was still at least a head shorter than Douglas. “Aye. And ye are?” He hesitated a moment. “...Oliver.” From behind Oliver, a head popped out. Oliver jumped. “Toad!” he scolded. He glanced back at Douglas and sighed. “And this is Toad, my break van.” “A break van?” Now it was Douglas’ turn to be surprised. He had never heard of a break van or any other truck being able to transform, but the proof was right in front of him.

Oliver hated to admit it, but he was slowly lowering his guard. The Fat Controller’s railway had been their goal, and here was an engine from that very railway. Not to mention he hadn’t shouted for someone the minute the pole had missed him. They needed help, and he wanted to trust this Douglas. (It didn’t hurt that he was quite handsome as well) “What are ye doing here?” Douglas asked. “Escaping,” Oliver replied, seeing no reason to hide the truth anymore. “From what?” “Scrap.” He lowered the pole completely, and Douglas could see the word “Scrap” painted on both his and Toad’s clothes. Douglas shivered, but then he remembered Edward’s story about saving Trevor.

“I’ll be glad to help ye!” Douglas said. “You will?” “Of course! I could never leave an engine in need. Besides, it just so happens we need another steam engine, if ye’re willin’, of course.” He gently took Oliver’s hands in his. Oliver glanced behind him. “I won’t leave without Toad,” he said firmly. Douglas smiled at the small break van. “I did mean both of ye. I’m sure you’ll both be welcomed. What do ye say?” Douglas looked at Oliver hopefully. For the first time since he left the railway, Oliver smiled a true, genuine smile, full of relief and the seeds of hope. “Thank you, so much,” he said, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Yes, thank you Mr. Douglas!” Toad cried, but not too loud.

“How do we get out of here?” “It’ll have to look like ye’re ready for scrap, and I’m takin’ ye away.” Oliver’s heart sped up. It was risky, but it was their only option. Best case scenario, they weren’t caught and could leave the yard with no problems. Worst case... Oliver squeezed Douglas’ hand. “Okay. I trust you.” Douglas smiled and dared to kiss his hand, both of them turning red. The trio hurried to the rails, and Oliver allowed himself to turn back into an engine. Toad transformed as well, coupling himself to Oliver and turning on his lamp. Douglas was in such a hurry, he changed still facing Oliver. “Nae time to turn around!” he said. “Let’s go!” 

But before they could clear the station they were stopped. The foreman had spotted them and blew his whistle, halting them. “Ah ha! A Great Western engine and a break van too, you can’t take these!” Oliver’s wheels quivered. They were so close! “Ach, but they’re not fer me,” Douglas replied easily, he must have rehearsed in his head. “See fer yerself!” The foreman studied the two of them, it seemed like he scrutinized every last detail. After what felt like an eternity, he gave a curt nod. “Seems in order. Right, away guard!” He blew his whistle again and they left as quick as they could. “That was a near thing,” huffed Douglas when they were out of earshot. “We’ve had worse,” smiled Oliver.

When they were a good distance away from the yard Douglas stopped. “Would ye two prefer to stay in ma cab?” he suggested. “It might be best if ye want to stay out of sight.” The engine and brake van agreed, and Douglas took the opportunity to face the proper direction. They then set off again, with Oliver and Toad riding in Douglas’ cab. “So ye’re a Great Western?” “I suppose so, although I certainly don’t look it,” Oliver laughed self-deprecatingly. “I didn’t mean it that way, it’s just that there’s another Great Western who works on our railway.” “Another Great Western?” “Aye, his name’s Duck and he’s even got his own branchline!” Douglas then proceeded to tell Oliver all about Duck, his brother, and all the other engines. Over the course of their journey, he shared so many stories of his time on Sodor. Oliver even shared some snippets of his life on his old railway, with Toad adding some points of his own. As the sun rose and they neared their destination, Oliver spoke up. “Douglas... whatever happens next, thank you... for everything.” Douglas felt a warmth that had nothing to do with his firebox. “Ye’re welcome. I promise, I won’t let anything happen ta ye.”

The sun had fully risen when they arrived at the sheds. Douglas could see the engines gathered there, including his brother and Duck. They were all talking with Sir Topham Hat. “Beg pardon, sir, but we do need another engine,” Duck was saying. “Yes, sir!” added Gordon. “A steam engine, sir!” “I’m afraid that unless one is saved from scrap there’s little hope,” sighed Sir Topham Hat. “But there is, sir!” Douglas burst out. The others startled and turned around to look at him. They had been so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn’t even noticed him come in. The Fat Controller frowned. “What do you mean?” “Go on,” Douglas whispered to his passengers. “It’s all right.” Oliver took a deep breath, and stepped out of the cab, helping Toad down as well. In a flash, Douglas was beside him, and took his hand, leading them over. “This is Oliver, a Great Western engine, and his brake van, Toad. They managed ta escape from being scrapped, and I know they’ll be really useful.” The others were amazed. Oliver blushed and murmured, “We did have a bit of help.” Toad shuffled closer to Oliver, not used to all this attention. Sir Topham Hat looked them up and down, and then he smiled. “Yes, indeed,” he said, “These two are just what we need for Duck’s branchline.” Everyone cheered, including Oliver and Toad. Oliver threw his arms around Douglas, hugging him tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he was nearly crying with happiness, and didn’t even care that everyone was watching. Duck ran up to them. “I’m so happy that I can work with another Great Western,” he beamed brightly. Oliver returned the smile. “I can say the same, Douglas has told me so much about you.” Donald came up behind Duck and waggled his eyebrows at his brother. Douglas rolled his eyes, he was in for a teasing later, he could tell. “All right then,” laughed Sir Topham Hat. “It’s off to the works for both of you!”

Oliver and Toad were mended and painted in full Great Western colors. Oliver’s hair became darker, with only one gray streak running through it at the top. His skin was cleared up and he wore a jacket whose green color was nearly the same as Duck’s. Toad didn’t change much, but he did have a smart new pair of overalls and his legs were repaired. Duck and Oliver became very close, and are quite happy on their branchline that eventually came to be known as the “Little Western”. Douglas spends time with Oliver whenever he can, and Oliver will always be grateful to the engine that saved his and Toad’s life. But how their friendship grew is a story for another time.

[starry-bi-sky]

more clone^2 memes because i think they're funny

[brynnmclean]

saw a post questioning shipping Senua and Thórgestr and started to reblog it with a tag novel-- felt weird about doing that since this is lengthy and potentially derailing, so making my own post instead. Spitballing under the cut:

First off, any time someone is like, "the real reason people ship this is because they find the dude attractive," this is SO funny to me as someone who doesn't find men attractive IRL and has fiercely loved Senua since I played the first game, like-- actually I find the dynamic between those two characters to be compelling and interesting precisely because of all the baggage between them re: their backgrounds, the rough (put mildly!) beginning of their relationship, all the things they don't talk about, and them finding a common enemy/common ground to work with. The explicit parallels between them stated in-game scratched an itch in my brain. The minute they pointed out the dark rot on his arm, it was like, "oh! hello there! NOW I'm interested in whatever your whole deal is" for me. Also, idk man, I too would follow Senua around after she knocked me into the dirt and then showed me a way to fight the giants that I very much wanted to fight instead of appease.

The idea that Thórgestr was part of the Orkney Raid that killed and mutilated Dillion is VERY interesting food for thought, even if I don't personally have that headcanon (surely there are more viking raiding groups than just the Bjorg). I think the Furies or the Shadow said something similar about Fargrimr (his kin murdered yours, you shouldn't save him, etc.) so I completely get that line of thought, but I think the game left it ambiguous enough that it's up for interpretation. Would I read fic with that premise? Yeah, I'd check that out. Could Senua forgive Thorgestr if his people were involved? Sounds fun to explore.

If (ha, when?) I write fic, I'd have to think more about it especially wrt timelines, like when did the Bjorg start specifically raiding for slaves for giant food sacrifices vs. killing people for resources and wealth? How far off are we from the old gods "dying" and the volcano erupting? Was it indeed a different group of raiders who made a deal with Zynbel, attacked Senua's home, and made the sacrifice at that time to Hela?

At the very least, I think there's a time jump between the end of Hellblade I and the beginning of Hellblade II since Senua wasn't alone on that slave ship and at least one of the (brief) survivors knew her by name. I wouldn't mind exploring that gap of time, too.

In any case I do agree that it would take a VERY long time for Senua to consciously catch feelings for anyone let alone Thorgestr with all their collective baggage. The idea of them having a relationship beyond friendship in the far off future of an AU where he survives is the only one that can make sense in my brain, personally. It would take time! Time they didn't get in the game! But I think there are a lot of different roads that could take, and some of them might be healthier than others. Shipping them certainly isn't forgetting or excusing what happened to Dillion-- or even mutually exclusive from still shipping Senua and Dillion. Or, frankly, also shipping Senua and Astridr, because I can see that ship too.

One of the nice things about all the details Ninja Theory didn't expand upon and that they left that ending so open is that the sky's the limit. I'm VERY interested in seeing fandom tackle this game as we get farther from the initial release.

[rugbuggk]

I’m MAD because we never get to see HOW VLADCARD AND INTEGRA MEEEETTT like OH MY FUCKING GOD YOU’RE TELLING ME DRAC THE OG GOT ON HIS DAMN KNEES FOR A WOMAN, CALLED HER MY LADY WHILE THE WORLD FELL APART???? AND WE NEVER GOT TO SEE THEM ACTUALLY MEETING?? I’m done

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

[raggydollsscreenshots]

Posting screenshots from The Raggy Dolls every day until ITV puts it on ITVX: Day 115:

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i know that when carlo suddenly decided that he needs to marry guy made a whole list in his head n like had a deadlines n shit. like it was some kind of a task he needed to do

[skunkes]

I'm v curious abt Talon's mesoamerican origins and evolution in general how does his accent sound when written out? after such a long life what is the strongest vestige of those times he has (aside from physical features and so on). I can't believe some rando bloodsucker colonized my boy

I have no idea what his accent wld sound like as the few videos i cld find of people speaking his original language, are, of course, mainly spanish speakers! And I can sometimes hear the difference in spanish as they switch between the 2 while being interviewed but i struggle to mentally transplant that as to how it'd sound in English ykwim 😭 there's also the fact that its the modern language spoken by them so it has evolved alongside and borrows from spanish anyway, by those who still speak it and speak both Today

Im actually still zeroing in on fleshing out more of that lore, since I can't find too much info on the specific culture i envision for him, it may really just have to be "fantasy culture INSPIRED by the people" instead, so i dont completely botch actual historical info 😮‍💨 either that or go very vague off of the info available

[oscarcito]

transcribing oscar interviews is what the c1 English exams listening were trying to prepare me for

[skintsugi]

i love all the southern jonathan crane but i am literally begging for the most “southerner goes up north” experience of all time

and by that i mean

“the first time someone meets jonathan and hears his voice they immediately assume he’s uneducated and that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about and they never take him seriously because of his accent and dialect of english and depending on what era of jonathan crane you’re in he either bites his tongue and plans his revenge or he just straight out murders you.”

[sesealotuz]

bleh.

context!! I've changed a bit for my oc, such as removing his scars and such... qin shen isn't exactly human (/ref to houseki no kuni!!). but I feel like I focused a little too much on the background. This takes place in his workspace ^_^ explains the scrolls and such. small background info: workaholic (bbg), never resting scroll monitoring guard who isn't even human. workz in da Underworld bc love the blues!!! although I think I kinda need to work on his lore a bit, but iz too busy :( plus, still new to Medibang shiz

[despairforme]

The way you write nnoi makes him sound like he has an american southern accent lmao

❝ Yeah? 'Daz a first. ❞

[luckyfiona]

“ you can’t or you won’t? ”

                  ❝ ——  Oh. Hm. ❞

                                          ( Uh-oh. )

Lawless Lucky talked a big game around the bonfire last night. She wasn't too oblivious to pick up on the fact that her being scandalized and upset by the boys' violent sides was beginning to grate on them. So, when all of the boys were talking about the gruesome things they'd like to do to the people who made their lives hard in The Other Place, she forced herself to laugh along, and even took the opening to spin a tale about how she was planning to poison her old employer's food. And, oh, those rotten pirates? Well, she would do the same to them if she had a chance.

So busy seizing on the moment, she didn't consider that she would actually have to put her money where her mouth was.

It would shatter the illusion of Neverland as her luxurious, peaceful, happily-ever-after paradise if she had to see any real carnage with her own two eyes, much less deal any of it herself. But here was dear Peter, ever the altruist, granter of all her wishes, suggesting she come along to their next raid of the Jolly Roger. Lucky's pretty sure he knows this is out of her comfort zone, if he's paid any attention to her — and he does, of course he does. Why else would he go through the trouble of bringing all of these troubled souls to the island if he didn't empathize and care about all of them, right? She can't imagine any motive but love and sympathy. — It's funny, considering how anxiously, meticulously sensitive she tries to be to his boundaries. There was something maybe endearingly boyish about his disregard for hers.

She reasons that she should be grateful for his investment in keeping things fresh and interesting. This is what a sensible, healthy relationship looked like, right? Balancing energies was a major tenet of Celtic magic— it was the key to harmony and prosperity. A passive, supportive person worked best with a person who was a little more... challenging. It would be too stagnant or too chaotic any other way. She gives a fond half-smile to her love, her true love, convinced he's only looking out for her best interests. She would find a way to explain to him that this doesn't really interest her... another time.

               ❝ Well, I suppose I would... ❞ 

Lucky? Morally opposed to it? No sir, you've got the wrong lassie. You must be thinking of that prude from Chicago, Fiona Comisky, who used to dote and cry and sermonize Nate Larsen any time he got injured in a fight with some low-class brute he should've run away from. She had no qualms with clodhopping bullies who started barbaric fights. Didn't find it tasteless in the slightest.

She was opposed to tagging along for much more modest, supportive, team-playering reasons, to be certain. The same reasons why she declined Nate's offer to teach her how to use a bow and arrow: why would the Princess of Neverland get her dainty, dignified, not-at-all-labor-calloused hands dirty learning how to hunt when her boys got such a thrill out of slaying those innocent animals?

                ❝ But why bring a girl along to steal all of the attention?                        I'm not as strong or as sneaky as you. I may ruin the... Element of surprise. Or... distract everyone when they have to keep me out of harm's way. And there’s really— there's so much I could do back here. I thought I should make some sort of victory banquet for the boys to come back to. ......Besides... ❞

Lucky's fingers sidled over to his, tips brushing over his knuckles, as if timidly asking permission to show tenderness before making any sudden moves. Peter was a bit strange about physical touch. She could never tell if he was enjoying it, or if she maybe wasn't doing it right. When he didn't immediately swat her away, she gingerly placed her palms in his, intuitively careful not to scare him away like a baby deer too shy for human touch, or startle him like a scorpion ready to plunge a stinger into her at any moment. She has experience with his type. She has nothing if not patience and willpower to break through to them. She has hope that one day she'll be able to fully embrace him. If she's really as lucky as everybody says, maybe she'd be able to fully-fully "embrace" him.

                ❝ I love when you tell me all about your thrilling adventures. You get such this 𝓅𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓁𝑒 in your eye... It's the same one you had when you first found me— the one that I saw and thought, 'Oh, there it is: my 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫. At last, I can see it!' ❞ 

She boldly ventures to show a little more affection while she pleads, but not enough to push him too far, just enough to remind him that he can touch her back any time he's ready. (If he's rallying her to come out of her comfort zone, maybe this is a good time to encourage him to be a little more adventurous, too.) Her fingers, ever-so-lightly cupped over his hands, gently lace themselves into the spaces between his. She's not naïve enough to believe she's going to get out of raids forever. She just wants to experience feeling truly loved and close to him, just one time, before she has to see him at his absolute nastiest.

           ❝ Oh, Peter, won't you please let me see my 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 again when you fill me in later? ❞ 

( Won't you please let her be so lucky as to skip out on this? )

╳ — 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ! // ACCEPTING.

[loadsofcats]

Have a feeling that, if more of you read Riders of the purple sage by Zane Grey, you’d be going mad over Lassiter

[scary-senpai]

So in this chapter, it's Reigen putting on a (fake) seance for Garou's request. Like "exorcise," the word "seance" is giving my brain a disproportionate amount of trouble because I've seen it spelled more than one way. In particular, my brain really wants me to add an accent over the "e" in "seance" / "séance," probably in a desperate attempt to reassure me that all those hours on Duolingo will eventually amount to something.

Anyway, I went with the French spelling, and now as I proofread the dialogue I imagine Garou and Reigen speaking this word with a ridiculously overblown accent, and Garou is deliberately altering the pronunciation each time, little by little, until eventually the word "séance" comes to rhyme with "Beyoncé". He does this with such conviction and sincerity that everyone--Reigen, Mob, and Serizawa--eventually follows suit, because THIS GUY knows what he's talking about, obviously.

[m00ngbin]

For the first time in my life I'm actually (seriously) considering majoring in English or creative writing or linguistics