#LMS Black 5

[the-time-lord-oracle]

Henry and his real-life basis; an LMS Stanier Black Five 4-6-0.

[greateasternj69]

Had a nice day out today riding behind LMS Black 5 Class number 44871 on a charter service between Norwich and Stratford-upon-Avon (got on the train in March).

[tornadoyoungiron]

Traintober | Day 12 - Something Borrowed

Henry is feeling left out watching Gordon and Scotsman's sibling relationship get stronger. 

~~~

~~~

“Is there any reason that you’re being particularly abrasive these days?” Gordon asked the large green Black 5 sitting grumpily in Tidmouth sheds. Said Black 5 merely acknowledged the A1 Pacific with a dismissive grunt to which Gordon frowned.

“Fine, be that way!” Gordon denounced before he slipped into the berth next to the disgruntled Henry. 

It hadn’t escaped Gordon’s notice that Henry had become a bit snappy recently. When pressed Henry would just posture and dismiss Gordon’s concerns which made the Pacific think that it had something to do with him.

Whatever it was, he didn’t have time for it as he wished to focus his attention on his brother and help him with his overhaul.

He had no mind to pay for his ever-increasingly grumpy friend, as cruel as that was.

It could wait, Gordon reasoned to himself.

~~~

Gordon found however that it couldn’t wait as the next day, Henry found himself in deep trouble after he had mismanaged his stopping distance, extremely distracted, and collided with the back of Gordon’s express with an over-exuberant shunt. Thankfully the express coaches had been empty but Gordon had been rightfully furious.

To Henry’s dismay, James, Percy and Flying Scotsman had all witnessed his mishap, James sniggering to himself quietly as Henry felt his ego take a beating.

“What the hell is going on with you?!” Gordon exploded at him. “This entire month you’ve been nothing but passive-aggressive towards me and now you go and damage one of my coaches!” 

“Oh shut up!” Henry furiously retaliated at him. “Not all of us get to be treated like a bleeding princess all the time!”

“Princess? Princess!” Gordon thundered but before he could unleash what Henry knew was about to be a very loud and lengthy tirade, the Fat Controller had appeared from his office and immediately went to diffuse the situation.

“That is enough!” The man shouted at the engines. He looked to Henry and the splintered, broken coach before him. “Henry, go back to the sheds, I will address you later. Percy, take the damaged coach away and ask Phillip to retrieve the teak brake coach for Gordon to use instead.”

“But sir-” Gordon began to protest but he was quickly shut down by a very menacing glare from the Fat Controller. 

There was no further argument as the engines went about following the man’s orders. It didn’t stop Gordon from eyeing Henry with disdain while the Flying Scotsman simply watched Henry go with a look of condolence.

~~~

“Hello Henry,” a voice greeted him and pulled him from his despondent mood. He looked up from his buffers to find Flying Scotsman sitting on the Tidmouth Sheds turntable, his expression one of pity and compassion. Henry just humphed and looked away.

“Come to laugh at me have you? Come to laugh at the clumsy engine banished to the sheds?” Henry deflected, his voice full of irritation. “No offence but you are the last engine I want to see right now.”

“I know, but I spoke with Gordon and he regrets exploding at you like that,” Scotsman attested. “My brother has trouble expressing his concerns sometimes.”

Henry gave a grunt of acknowledgement. 

“Don’t I know it,” he quipped, still annoyed. 

“Well, what’s on your mind, Henry? Perhaps I can help?” Scotsman queried and Henry looked up at him surprised.

“Help?”

“Yes, I’ve noticed you’ve become a little distant towards myself and Gordon,” Scotsman explained. “Is there something we have done to upset you?”

“Well,” Henry looked away guilty. “I never meant to let it affect the both of you but truth be told.”

Henry paused and looked back at Scotsman to gauge his reaction. Still the look of compassion remained on his face.

“Go on,” Scotsman encouraged.

“Seeing the both of you build and grow your family relationships it, it bothered me because I’ve never really spent any time with my family,” Henry consoled. “I barely know any of the other Black 5’s. Even Connor. I don’t know anything about him.”

Flying Scotsman gazed at Henry thoughtfully for a long second, humming to himself as he thought deeply. 

“I have an idea,” Scotsman said after a long while. “Let me speak to Olivia, I’ve see if I can get her to pull some strings for you.”

“What do you mean?” Henry asked, confused. 

“There is a Black 5 on the North Yorkshire Moors Railways at Pickering, near York,” Scotsman explained. “His name is Eric and I’m certain that he’d love to meet you.”

“Oh!” Henry exclaimed in surprise, delighted but then paused and frowned. “Pickering is a long way away and my tender is too small to make such a journey. I can barely make it to Manchester on an efficient day.”

“I’ll lend you my tender,” Scotsman offered and Henry looked sceptical. Scotsman only had one tender.

“It’s not like I’m scheduled for anything on the North Western,” Scotsman pointed out. “I’m more of a living exhibit these days, until I get my rebuild.”

Henry still didn’t look convinced.

“If it concerns you that much, I’ll get my 2nd tender back and give it to you,” Scotsman promised.

“Well, if you’re sure that is,” Henry didn’t look convinced but appreciated it all the same. “I’d love to take you up on the offer.”

“Excellent!” Scotsman approved. “I’ll talk to Olivia and get you shorted out shall we? Eric will be beside himself with joy to host you on the NYMR."

Henry still wasn’t sure about the offer, but the thought of it made him feel a little better about his unfortunate accident.

~~~

“What do you mean you need my tender?!” Bittern shrieked at Scotsman. 

“I think you’ll find that it’s my tender,” Scotsman scowled at his cousin. “And I think you’ll find I get the final say on where and who gets to use it.”

“But I need it!” Bittern wailed childishly.

“That’s too bad!” Scotsman scolded the A4 as his friend began wailing like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Scotsman please! I’m your best friend-”

“Bittern you’re going on exhibition for the next month-”

“I NEED IT! I will be naked without it!”

“Oh stop being such a child! Give it to Henry!”

“I’ll look like a goose without my tender!”

“Bittern-”

“It’s my tender now!”

“Bittern!”

Henry knew he should have felt sorry for the large blue A4, but he couldn’t help but laugh.

~~~

LMS Black 5, Eric Treacy of the NYMR. Named after a prominent Railway Photographer.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Henry, aka the LMS Black 5...who needs an update. Also I need to do more LMS engines.

[gronkgal]

Live action Henry and Toad

Got these two in the post.

My first OO scale tender engine and let me tell you the detailing pack has so many little extra bits for customization... but it's a beautiful model.

It's funny how they always call Thomas a "little" engine, but he's fairly good size in comparison. These are the same scale.

And last off my little gronk taking off with Toad, pulling a break van ride; which gronks are commonly used for these days, apparently.

[lomotunes2008]

When the black is 5ing (idk what to caption this with)

[dampfloks]

The Jacobite

45 407 The Lancashire Fusilier LMS Stanier Class 5-4-6-0 ‚Black Five’ Hier auf dem Glenfinnan Viaduct, Inverness-shire (Siorrachd Inbhir Nis), Schottland.\ Der Zug fährt von Ford Williams (An Gearasdan) nach Mallaig und wurde nach den Jakobiten, deren letzter Aufstand gegen die britische Krone 1745 in Glenfinnan seinen Anfang nahm.

The Jacobite

45 407 The Lancashire Fusilier LMS Stanier Class 5-4-6-0 'Black Five' Here on the Glenfinnan Viaduct, Inverness-shire (Siorrachd Inbhir Nis), Scotland The train runs from Ford Williams (An Gearasdan) to Mallaig and was named after the Jacobites, whose last uprising against the British Crown began in Glenfinnan in 1745.

The Jacobite

45 407 Le Fusilier du Lancashire LMS Stanier Class 5-4-6-0 'Black Five' (cinq noirs) lci sur le Glenfinnan Viaduct, Inverness-shire (Siorrachd Inbhir Nis), Écosse Le train circule de Ford Williams (An Gearasdan) à Mallaig et a été baptisé du nom des Jacobites, dont la dernière révolte contre la couronne britannique a débuté à Glenfinnan en 1745.

[urhouseisnthauntedurjustlonely]

Deciphering the Black Book pt. 2

BLACK BOOK ART CREDIT: @thirdchildart

Part One. Part Three.

It’s the table of contents, y���all! Let’s do this.

Spoilers: Hatchetfield. At this point, it’s just Hatchetfield. It’d probably be easier to list what I didn’t talk about or allude to.

I’m not going to, but it’d be easier.

Ment.: H.P. Lovecraft

This is will be broken into parts, and then my analysis will follow!

1.

Part One - History and [S?t_f_d]

[?]

theatre

Part Two - Into the black

[Th?]/Kingdom

oblivion

Analysis:

The word ‘theatre’ shows up three times and the word ‘oblivion’ shows up twice in the table of contents. The Starlight Theatre is obviously super important to point where I don’t really need to say anymore on that right now.

Not gonna lie, at first, I thought it said ‘Random’ and pictured Willabella Muckwab writing random thoughts. I’d really like to see those. I bet she has crude doodles. Anyways— Kingdom!

‘The Summoning’ - “We dance around the pentagram, and take all our kingdoms back”

‘Oblivion’ is not just a word, but a concept heavily explored by H.P. Lovecraft and Isaac Newton, and the musicals themselves.

To some, oblivion is the state of total blackness, a place where everything is and is not, it is nothingness, and the knowledge that something resides within it. Take your pick. The point is to find what that means to you.

2.

3.

(totally stolen from: @hatchetfieldtheories)

Part Three - the men

The contents of this section are the same as part four. It was just flipped.*

Analysis:

If it is ‘the men’, I assume it’s about the Hatchetmen. Maybe some family history and stuff like that. Weaknesses, favorite characters from Alf, your guess is as good as mine.*

4.

A[?]

1 - [?]

2. Theatre

3. rea[lm] of [?]

4. america

oblivion

Analysis:

Oop! Here’s ‘theatre’ and ‘oblivion’ again! Honestly? Shrug emoji. My closest guess would be places that are susceptible to the Lords in Black/the Black and White. Why? Because of the words ‘theatre’ and ‘america’. Let’s take a look at this simple snippet from Black Friday:

“Only in America could Wiggly take root ... You think that in the Netherlands, they’d give a shit about some toy? No, they’re too busy on their paid vacations and the free healthcare.” - Uncle Wiley (spitting bars)

Number one looks like the same scribble as the first bullet in Part One, though.* For number three, I see ‘r-e-a’ pretty clearly, so ‘realm’ is context clues based. We’ll mosey on over to Hatchetfield’s little bio.

“In a realm outside of reality, somewhere in the crossroads of imagination and nightmares, there’s a place— a small, mid-western town, where the forces of evil and chaos tug at the fabric of reality. Welcome to Hatchetfield.” - Nick Lang

5.

Part 4 - The Lords in Black

Pokotho

theatre

believe

[?]

never

[Nibbly/Nibbles(?)]

[Queen?]

[?]

[?]

Analysis:

The contents under Part Four are the same as Part Three, but were flipped by the actual artist to fill space (I assume).

Here is that word ‘theatre’ once again! Why do I think the word under it is ’believe’? Simple! In the song ‘The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals’, we get this line nearing the end:

“You gotta believe in something, Paul, gotta believe in stupid Paul”

It looks like ‘never’, it reads like ‘never’, and the word ‘never’ just fits the vibe.

Okay, wait— I was going to write about Nibbly and the Honey Festival, because while the Honey Festival wasn’t founded until 1945, Nibbly and the word ‘queen’ could still coincide for whatever reason, but even with that, the Lords are usually listed in the order of ‘Pokey, Blinky, Tinky, Nibbly, and Wiggly’, but that might be one of the outliers, but I just remembered the Queen in White and something about that made me excited. We’ll see. What I was going to write about Nibbly still applies, though.

6.

Help Me Don’t [go]

In The Black, Po[kotho?]

wants me to

Analysis:

Not everyone wants to tango with the devils. It might be ‘Pokey’, but it’s the same either way, and the person who wrote this was most likely not Willabella, considering she seemed pretty chill with the Lords in Black and it’s coloring is different. Still looks like it was written in blood though. When you dabble in the dark arts, don’t forget to take a pen with you.

Overall:

My question is— what counts as lore? I think this does. Anyway. Again. If anyone figures out what the fuck that word is after ‘History and ????” in part one, hit me up. I’m gonna challenge the word to a duel. What’s it gonna do?? Fight back?? Part three will be out at some point. Okay, bye.

* I assume the artist occasionally used the same art, but warped it to make it look different, so more space could be taken up, and there would be no pain of having to go through It All. I think Part 4 - The Lords in Black is the proper way to read it, though.*

Feel free to reblog and add to this post! I grant you my permission!!

Edit (12/16/24): Rather than Part Three being about the Hatchetmen, it could be that “family tree of eldritch horrors” Nick mentions.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 29 - Out of Service

Oliver Wasn't the Only Engine in that Siding:

Oliver the Great Western Engine is thankful for the second chance that Sodor has given him. Every day, he wakes up and says ‘good morning’ and ‘thank you’ to Douglas before starting his day’s duties. Douglas never really understood the custom.

“Ye dinnae need tae thank me ilka day,” Douglas said one morning. “I do though,” Oliver replied quietly. “It’s important to me… to everyone. You saved us when we had no one to turn to, and it’s because of you that I’m here today. That alone is worthy of my eternal gratitude.”

Douglas left it at that, and puffed away to start his day.

Once Douglas had rounded the bend out of sight, Oliver released a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding in. The Caledonian couldn’t possibly know.

There are two days that Oliver will never forget: the first is the day that Douglas rescued him from the Other Railway, but the second…

The second is the day he arrived in that scrapyard; two months prior. He’d been out of coal, unable to find even a single lump of the black fuel source. He’d been captured by a smirking diesel, who’d dragged him up to the Barrow Scrapyard and left him in a cold, damp siding with his coach Isabel and his brakevan Toad. The trio thought they were alone, until an old, scratchy voice broke the silence.

“Welcome to the ‘out of use’ siding,” wheezed the voice. Oliver looked back. Behind him was a row of old, rusty engines. They were not Great Westerns like him – they were ex-LMS stock. The one who had spoken was a grimy Fowler 4F, who was missing both his tender and his dome. He stood right behind Oliver, but ahead of six other engines. Two were Jinty tank engines, one was a Black 5, one was a Stanier 8F, one was an Ivatt 2MT tank engine – and the last was Pettigrew D5, from the Furness Railway.

The other engines didn’t say anything. They just sat there – silent hulks leaving growing shadows on the ground.

“Hello, little runaway,” smirked an oily diesel. Oliver looked up to see a large, grease-smeared Class 28 rumble up alongside him. “We caught you at last.” Oliver glared defiantly. The Great Western engine refused to give the diesel the pleasure of a reply.

“Heh, not a talker?” sneered the diesel. “No matter. We’ve got a little treat in store for you. You’re last on our siding, so I hope you enjoy what comes next.”

And with that, men left the works coach the Class 28 was pulling, and made their way over to the first of the Jintys.

Oliver couldn’t bear to look – but he was forced to listen. Listen to the hiss of the blowtorch, to the screech of 1000 degrees slicing through metal, to the screams of the engine as it was slowly; agonisingly carved up and turned into a pile of parts.

The Class 28 shunted the parts into the smelter’s shed.

Oliver wanted to cry, but the look on the diesel’s kept his eyes dry. The glee – the sheer, unadulterated glee – in that engine’s eyes was sickening. Oliver wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing his sick, twisted game was getting to the Western engine.

The scrapper’s had waited a week before returning, with that same smarmy diesel. This time, Oliver got to read the engine’s number off its cab.

D5701.

Oliver noticed that the other Class 28s avoided this one. They looked at this diesel as if he was a monster. Oliver agreed with them. This diesel seemed to take enjoyment from the screams of his victims, listening in for the moment the screams dissolved into whimpers.

The torch worked its way through the engines in the siding. The Staniers and the other Jinty were gone by the end of the month, leaving Oliver with the D5, the Ivatt 2MT and the Fowler 4F. All four rarely spoke – especially not with the other diesels growling and sneering at them. All except the other Class 28s. The rest of that class seemed horrified at their siblings’ actions – and they were the only ones that came near them without bringing death.

D5703 rumbled up beside Oliver one evening, looking around fugitively. “Tonight, the Midnight Goods comes across from Sodor,” she hissed quietly. “We’re going to try and redirect their engine this way – but you need to grab their attention.” Oliver couldn’t find the steam to reply.

“We’ll try,” croaked the Fowler from behind Oliver. “Thank you.”

The night wore on, and the four engines, Isabel, and Toad all waited for signs of a Sodor engine puffing past. Instead, D5701 growled past, dragging D5703 behind as she hissed and hurled insults at her unfeeling sibling.

“Try and help those relics, huh?” he snarled. “Try and derail to bring those disgusting Nor-Westers this way? It’s such a shame that the company wants you gone, little sister.” Oliver watched with wide eyes as D5701 dragged their own sister into the smelting shed. There was the distinct hiss of smelting torches being fired up – and then a single, ear-piercing scream. D5701 growled out of the smelting shed, lip curled up in a snarl.

“And let that be a lesson!” he roared. “There is no escape!” The four steam engines said nothing, didn’t give the furious diesel the satisfaction of a victory.

The next day, the men came for the Ivatt, slicing the young engine up extra slowly.

That was when a second young Class 28 began to visit the trio. D5714 was an unassuming young girl - she wasn’t the youngest of her class, nor the oldest. She just was. She pulled her trains when her Crossley motor allowed her to, and she got her driver to play the radio for her when she couldn’t.

“What is the West like?” she asked Oliver one evening. “Well, it’s wonderful,” grinned Oliver. “Beautiful scenery – and all our coaches were painted chocolate and cream. But… the managers didn’t care about steam. Said we were too inefficient. They were… they were proud to claim their region was the first to… to… to abolish steam.” D5714 gasped. “That’s horrible! The same is happening to my class… they say we’re too expensive to keep running. We aren’t ‘revolutionary’ like the other diesels. Big brother 5702 said our best chance of survival was to learn from the steam engines, and use their wisdom to do better at work. Big brother 5701 wants us all to get into the… the scrapping business. He thinks if we do, we’ll survive on the scrap-merchant’s money. Big sister 5700 was scrapped though… and so was big sister 5703! I saw 5701 drag her off.” Oliver paused, realisation hitting him like a runaway freight train.

The Class 28s weren’t even ten yet. They’d been built in the late 50s! The young girl in front of her couldn’t have been older than eight years old. And here they were, being forced to debate the best way to survive. It was sickening – and it was all British Rail’s fault.

The D5 was the next to go. The poor old engine had been sat in that siding for ten years and had accepted his fate long ago. When the cutters came for him, he simply smiled at them. His voice had been lost during the last downpour, and the rust was creeping up his smokebox. He didn’t scream like the other engines – and Oliver could tell how much that infuriated D5701.

“Why was he so quiet? Are the torches not hot enough?” he demanded. The scrappers all shot the diesel dirty looks. “That engine was meant to have been cut up years ago,” one of them snapped. “You’ve kept him on this siding for nearly a decade, and that’s all you have to say?” Oliver felt sick to his boiler. That old engine had been sat out in the wind and snow and driving rain and baking sun for an entire decade. Longer than most of his replacements had even been alive.

And he could tell that D5714 thought her brother’s words were horrible too. “Don’t mind him,” muttered the Fowler softly. Oliver jumped. The 4F had been silent ever since D5703 had been scrapped. “I… beg your pardon?” “Don’t mind that bully,” the 4F said. “His type has always existed, and they always will. But you can’t let them win.” “How do you know?” asked Oliver. The 4F didn’t reply. Oliver had a sinking feeling that he didn’t want to know.

“The Midnight Goods is due in two weeks,” hummed D5714 the next evening. “I wonder if it’ll be that Scot again?” “Scot?” asked Oliver. “Yes – the last one was pulled by some engine with a Scottish accent. He spent a good few minutes hissing insults at 5701.” Oliver noticed that the young engine was no longer referring to her classmate as ‘big brother’.

That evening, D5701 came for the Fowler 4F. Unlike the others, he was dragged out of the siding.

“Well, old timer?” sneered D5701. “It’s your turn. How does it feel to be scrapped by the very people you once worked for?” “Like a cruel irony,” came the blunt reply. “And one I feel you too will come to know.” D5701 laughed – but his laugh was like shards of glass falling, the laugh of a maniac.

“Me?! Ever be shunted off into a siding like you? You outlived your usefulness as a scrapper’s engine, Fowl one, though that’s to be expected from such a relic.” “And what of you? Even as we speak, they are cutting up your class in the sidings of Carlisle. Five gone, and a sixth being withdrawn tomorrow. I do not envy you, if that is what you want me to say. I do not wish to be you, and I will not argue, or beg, or plead, or scream. There is no satisfaction in that. Not anymore.”

D5701’s engine roared at this, backfiring with a massive Bang! A fireball shot up, and he surged forwards, bumping the Fowler hard enough that the old engine went sailing into the smelting shed, joints creaking and groaning before suddenly giving way. The Fowler 4F’s axles shattered beneath him, and he toppled cab over wheels to one side, parts snapping off and smashing down all around the husk of an engine. D5701 smirked.

“You’ll be next, Western,” he said. With that, he rumbled off to deal with scrapping the remains of the Fowler 4F. D5714 sidled up next to Oliver.

“I have a plan,” she said quietly. “But I need you to have at least a little steam. Can your crew build a fire?” Oliver blinked. His crew was somewhere in Barrow – probably trying to find a way to speak to the Fat Controller across the bridge – but he hadn’t heard from them in well over a month. “If you can get them to me, we can probably get something started with all the overgrown weeds…” Oliver replied. D5714 smiled. “Good. When the steam engine arrives, I need you to get their attention, no matter what. Oh! Or if it’s D5702. He’s also a Sodor engine. If you can do that, I can distract everyone else.”

Oliver felt a smile slowly grow on his face. “Thank you,” he whispered. D5714 smiled. “It’s the right thing to do,” she replied. And then she was speeding away before her psychopathic brother could reappear.

Oliver’s crew were back the next day, tugging weeds out of the ground and laying them out in Oliver’s firebox to dry out. They took a floorboard or two from Toad as well. Even so, it was dangerous work. D5701 kept rumbling over to gloat, counting down the days with a manic grin that split his face in two, revealing a row of pearly white teeth. On any other engine, that smile would have been natural, reassuring – D5714 smiled like that sometimes, when Oliver told her about all his adventures back on his branchline – but on D5701, it just seemed sinister.

But he was nowhere to be found the day before the Midnight Goods was due to arrive, in spite of it being the day before he planned to scrap Oliver. D5714 was smirking when she pulled in.

“We’re in luck,” she said. “5701 is stuck at Carnforth due to some faulty points. It gives us an even better chance.” And with that, her driver pulled a sack out of the diesel’s cab and tossed it to Oliver’s driver. The driver opened the bag and gasped.

“Coal!” “It was the last in the bunkers on the branch,” D5714 said. “So use it wisely.” Oliver beamed. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said earnestly. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?” D5714 thought for a moment, then smiled shyly. “I would like… a name.”

Oliver stopped dead, stunned. “You don’t have a name?” “Not many diesels do,” D5714 replied quietly. “British Rail says it encourages deviant behaviour – but I heard that all steam engines have names!” “We do,” said Oliver proudly. “I’m Oliver… and you… what do you think of Eleanor?” “Like that American woman?” asked D5714. “The one who helped found the United Nations?” “Yes,” Oliver replied. “Eleanor Roosevelt. I met her when she came to Britian during the war. One of the most amazing people I’d ever spoken to. She wanted to help everyone… a lot like you.” “I… I like it.” “Then pleased to finally meet you, Eleanor.” Eleanor blushed, and was about to leave when the pair heard a disturbingly familiar horn echo through the yards.

“Quick! He’s coming back!” hissed Oliver. Eleanor sped away, and vanished just before D5701 finally returned. Oliver’s crew hid in Isabel, daring not to make a sound. “One night left, steam kettle,” sneered D5701. “I’m going to enjoy tomorrow.”

With that, he rumbled away.

Night fell. Oliver’s crew began building a small fire in Oliver’s firebox, having first checked his tanks had water. They were in luck. All was still in the yards.

Then, suddenly, the fire alarm rang out, just as a sharp, deep, Caledonian Railway whistle boomed in the distance. Oliver could see in the distance that the main sheds were on fire – and D5714’s plan was suddenly in motion.

Oliver could only hope that his crew had built enough of a fire to make steam.

Back to Master Post

[no-where-new-hero]

✣ Blake Wrapped: 5 Star Reads 📖

The first half of this post can be found HERE, and these were my 5-star reads for the second half of the year (in rough order). Tagging @batrachised, who was interested in recommendations!

Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh I posted a lot about this when I read it because in my opinion it’s one of the best SFF novels I’ve come across in a while. It reminded me of DWJ’s Hexwood, which is already high praise, but it’s a fabulous character study with incredible dynamics. It’s another new book with truly horrible marketing, imo—the whole “queer sci-fi” angle gives the impression of a Gideon the Ninth rip-off, but there’s much more political and social commentary with fabulous world-building. Highly, highly recommend this one.

He Who Drowned the World by Shelley Parker-Chan I loved the first book in this duology, but this one was exquisite to new heights. Even though it was never that overt, it did a lot of great meta-commentary work on the chosen one trope vs the doomed by the narrative trope, especially their intersection with gender expectations. The prose was simply gorgeous, occasionally philosophical, always sure-handed. I recommend the whole duology, though mostly so that you can get to this one.

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson I picked this up in my library’s for sale room, and it was the best choice I made this year. I can’t believe I had been missing out on Jackson for so long. It’s a ghost story and a Gothic novel and a girl book and feels a bit like the shadow side of an LM Montgomery story. The language and characters are rich and strange and is so thoroughly a Blake Book of all time. I want to be able to write something like this someday.

Yellowface by R. F. Kuang The reports of its readability are true—I went through this in three hours. I get why people complain about certain elements in this, but it also lives up to the hype, in my opinion. I might be the target audience as an aspiring author (who got throughly traumatized by the portrayal of terminally online author culture lmao) but I do think those dynamics and circumstances are its strength, more so than the social commentaries on Asian American tokenization, etc.

How Long ’Til Black Future Month? by N. K. Jemisin I don’t often read short fiction, but I was in the mood for some good SFF shorts to learn from, so picked this up. Jemisin is a master of form—her ability to depict a world in such a brief span, to make such deep characters with such clever scenarios is unmatched. Certainly, there are some better examples than others, but the best makes me wish there were a whole novel set in that world.

Hangsaman by Shirley Jackson This one is a slight cheat because it’s not Jackson’s best, but it’s also a Blake Book of all time, so how could I not give it five stars? I wish I had discovered it in college, if just to be able to be insufferable and call myself “irl Natalie Waite” everywhere. It’s such a Tumblr book too—the veiled queerness, the Plath vibes, the dark academia setting, the unhinged vibes. The prose is gorgeous and unsettling and is such a good portrayal of a character.

[torto-isemusings]

Ah, Common Sense Media: One Million Moms on a budget.

Home of one of the worst, most ignorant reviews of our beloved Incredibox I've ever seen (below)

One star from an Adult. A tough crowd these ones.

Join me, dear Reader, as I Torto breakdown the points of this review one. By. One.

For your entertainment, of course ;)

1) "Nobody will like this lackluster 'game'"

*hysterical, borderline-demonic hyena laugh*

But seriously, given the amount of fanart, mods, YouTube videos, and blogs dedicated to this game it seems like the word "nobody" implies whole swaths of people in the definition. *Sparticus voice* I AM NOBODY!

2) "The same man is copy-pasted at least 6 times"

Most people who complain about this haven't done the bare minimum of research to discover that, yes, they are all one man. That is, of course, Paul "Incredible Polo" Malburet, who voiced them all. It's meant to showcase what *just one man* can do with his (aptly named) incredible voice. Love you, Polo❤️

3) "There's really nothing to do but click on the men to produce lackluster sounds"

Say that to his adorable face, I dare you!

Risk being the target of Gallic Rage!

4) "Sure, there are different costumes but they do nothing to enhance the game"

OP must be really fun at Halloween parties /s. Repeat after me: "Costumes enhance *everything*!" Also, now that you've taken a shot at Paul, you can't resist taking a shot at Romain as well, how thoughtful. Love you too, Bily❤️

5) "There are no puzzles [or] prize wheels"

Okay, I'll give them this one. Even though the bonuses are kind of like puzzles, no puzzle just gives you the answer by hovering over the icon. However, I think this is one of the things that makes Incredibox so special: It's not about puzzles. It isn't one of those instant gratification, constant rush of dopamine games(which, imo, are on par with the "brainrot" section of YouTube). Just like writing your own music, you have to stew on it for a while, see what works, and most of all enjoy it! Experimentation can be fun!

6) "There's no way to customize the look-alike men -they're all in boring black and white"

First, see my rebuttal to point #2. Second, this just tells me you didn't play past Little Miss(which is all but confirmed later). LM is only the second version. Each version gets better than the last as the guys hone their craft. Even your oh-so-despised costumes get better! In Jeevan alone you have practically all the colors of the goddamn rainbow! At the end of the day, even though Incredibox is more about the music than anything else, the costumes are a neat bonus that keep things visually interesting. Long story short, if you want customization The Sims is right there.

7) "The game is so boring I quit after 1 minute"

While I'm pretty sure 1 minute is an exaggeration, this does pretty much confirm OP didn't play past Little Miss. Geez, even a goldfish would know you need to pay attention for more a minute to accurately assess the quality of a game.

8)"It takes about 25 minutes to load the game"

This one's just a flat out lie.

9) "The developer isn't even updating the game anymore...terribly outdated...stuck in 2019"

Patience, Grasshopper. The latest bonus for Wekiddy was released only 9-10 months ago. That isn't forever. I'm sure all three guys are working their culs off to get the third one out in a timely manner. Especially Allan, who I haven't mentioned yet. Love you as well, Al❤️

Also define "stuck in 2019"? What does a game have to do in order to be worthy of the 2020s, include a Covid-themed version?

10) "Forget about Incredibox and just get My Singing Monsters instead"

...you're lucky TV Tropes lists us as Friendly Fandoms, or I would get mad at that. I however won't because I'm mad enough.

And there you have it, Reader, my full thoughts on this godawful review. Tell me your thoughts in the tags, and if there was anything I missed💜

[the-time-lord-oracle]

44932 at the Severn Valley's autumn steam gala, 21/09/2024.

[dainesanddaffodils]

Tagged by @pocketclocked (thank you!) and tagging anyone who wants it because i black out whenever it comes to tagging people lm

[tornadoyoungiron]

TRAINTOBER | Day 18 - Blueprints

Henry feels self-conscious about himself.

Introducing Repton and Black 5, Eric Treacy.

~~~

“That tender does not suit you brother,” Henry heard the voice of what he assumed was a Black 5. He looked over and found a Black 5, not as polished as 5025 Connor but a grimy one that looked well used and in service. “Henry, right?”

“Yes that’s me,” Henry gazed at the other engine. “You must be Eric.”

“Eric Treacy at your service, any terrain, any weather, I’m your engine,” Eric grinned at Henry. “Heard the same things about you Henry.”

“I’m proud of my work,” Henry gruffly answered. “I’m a goods engine through and through.”

“Grand, simply grand!” Eric effused. He eyed the aforementioned tender with ire, however. “That’s not your tender, is it? I heard Sudrian engines were mismatched, but a LNER Corridor tender on a Black 5 does not suit.”

Henry frowned. He was sure that Eric hadn’t meant his words to be harsh but Henry felt hurt by them. He was originally a Gresley, an engine that was considered a direct competitor to the LMS. He wanted no part of that.

“Flying Scotsman leant me his tender, I wouldn’t have been able to get here from Sodor 

without it,” Henry told him. 

Eric’s eyes widened slightly. 

“Flying Scotsman leant you his tender?” He exclaimed, awestruck and Henry gave him a soft hum. 

“Yes, he did,” Henry puffed himself up at that. The famous Flying Scotsman leading silly little him a tender?

"Well that's unheard of, I suppose it makes sense with you being originally a Gresley build," Eric theorised. 

Again, Eric probably hadn't meant any harm by it but still, it stung Henry for some reason.

"I think Scotsman would have leant it to me even if I wasn't," Henry pointed out, and Eric hummed thoughtfully in response. 

"Maybe. The Scotsman's a funny fellow,” Eric admitted and then smiled at Henry. “Regardless, it’s lovely to meet my most famous of siblings finally! I’ve wanted to meet you for the longest time!”

Henry smiled. He knew he should have been elated to get to spend some time with his brother however his comments had left a bitter taste in his boiler water. He didn’t quite know how to feel about this and so he put on his brightest smile for him.

“Thanks, I’m glad I finally get to connect with my family,” Henry beamed. 

“Likewise, likewise,” Eric affirmed. “Come along, I’ll show you around my railway shall I?”

“Of course!” Henry exclaimed pushing those bad feelings from his mind. “Lead on.”

~~~

“There’s a lot of Standard 4’s here,” Henry remarked and Eric grinned.

“They’re a good bunch, very tight-knit,” The Black 5 puffed proudly. “Proud to have adopted them under our family tree!”

“Even the tank engines?” Henry asked incredulously. 

“Especially the tank engines!” Eric blustered proudly. “Unlike the Gresley’s, we don’t discriminate on an engine's size like they do!” 

Henry frowned and narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if Eric was intentionally being passive-aggressive but it had been vexing him to no end.

“You keep going on about how you lot are better than Gresley’s,” he pointed out and Eric frowned.

“Well, that’s because we are,” Eric retorted smugly and Henry now glared at him.

“So you’re better than me, is what you’re saying,” Henry accused and Eric was taken aback.

“No, no, no! I’m saying no such thing!” he hastily tried to explain. “I mean sure you’re originally Gresley but you got a better and more noble shape by becoming a proud Stanier engine!”

Henry had had enough, however.

“It was Scotsman’s idea to have me try and spend time with my siblings because he knew how badly I wanted to get to know you all,” Henry confessed, still glaring at his brother. “I should have held my ground and not come, especially since you keep passive-aggressively trying to insist that I’m faulty.”

“No! No! Please, I didn’t mean any of it! It’s just habit from decades of rivalry with the Gresley’s!” Eric pleaded but the damage was done and Henry just humphed and looked away from his brother.

“Whatever it is I’m not putting up with it,” Henry snapped and huffed away in a cloud of steam leaving Eric sitting at the station. 

“Connor’s going to be so mad at me,” Eric mumbled to himself ashamed.

~~~

“Hey there big guy!” Came the excitable, high-pitched voice of an engine and Henry almost jumped off the rails in fright.

“Argh! Who are-”

“Oh don’t mind me my name’s Repton! Repton Maunsell at your service big fella! You’re Henry, aren’t you? It’s nice to meet you, Henry! I’ve never been to Sodor you know but I’d like to go one day! I’ve been to America and Canada me! I’m no stranger to travellin’ places!” 

Henry stared at the Southern Railway engine which was practically vibrating on her frames, her eyes wide with excitement and awe at the sight of him. 

“Um,” Henry began but Repton didn’t let him even start his question.

“How have you been enjoying the Moors? Do you like it? Is it very different to Sodor? Or does it look the same? I imagine it looks the same but you never know, it always looks so nice in the books and show. I heard you got a Spamcan recently, does she enjoy your island? I like to think that she would! The Spamcans were pretty reliable! I heard it was Tangmere! How is she? Is she good?” Repton rambled at such a breakneck speed that Henry barely even had time to answer her first question.

“Repton, please! Slow down, old girl!” A voice chuckled and Repton looked sheepish. “Let Henry get a word in to answer a question or two.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m just excited.”

“You’re always excited,” the man, whom Henry could only assume was her crew. “Henry, introduce yourself, Repton won’t bite, she’s just excited to meet a famous engine.”

Henry cleared his throat and gazed down at the engine who grinned up at him with a huge goofy grin. 

“Right well, er, I’m Henry,” Henry introduced himself and Repton’s smile, somehow, grew even wider.

“Hullo Henry!” 

“Are you always this-” Henry began but Repton interrupted.

“Highly strung? Why yes I am! I just have a lot of energy okay!”

“Steams on a matchstick this girl, excuse her,” the man chuckled before he was called away.

“That must be nice, even though I was rebuilt, my firebox still has days where it never builds up any pressure,” Henry sighed and Repton gazed at him sympathetically. “My faulty blueprints always have this vice grip on me.”

“Well, it’s not so fun having too much steam either Mr Henry,” Repton advised. “People get annoyed with me because I’m so steamed up all the time. I don’t mean to be, I just have all the energy and nowhere to put it and they can’t tolerate me. I’m sorry if was, you know, a bit much. It’s hard to reign it in.”

Henry smiled sadly at Repton.

“It’s not your fault,” he tried to assure her and Repton grinned at him.

“It’s not your fault either Mr Henry,” she parroted back. “And Mr Eric doesn’t mean what he said about you earlier! He’s a lovely engine but he’s a bit oblivious sometimes. He’s been hiding in the shed upset because he thinks you hate him!!”

“I don’t hate him!” Henry immediately asserted. “Just, he was saying some unkind things about Gresley’s and being originally a Gresley, it very much hurt.”

“He’s upset that his oldest brother is going to come to the Moors and beat him up for upsetting you!” 

“Would he?” Henry asked worriedly. 

“I dunno, maybe,” Repton would have shrugged if he could.

“I think I should go and speak to Eric,” Henry considered and Repton smiled.

“Yay!” The Southern engine excitedly exclaimed and Henry couldn’t help but smirk.

~~~

Though their initial meeting had been a bit rough, Henry soon warmed up to Eric finding him quite pleasant and a big brother to all the Standard 4’s. The group of them would often go about the Moors together and there was even a contest where all of them plus the 2 Black 5’s versed the 9F in a strength contest.

Repton often tagged along with both of them. At first, Henry found her to be extremely exasperating but when it was time to go, Henry found himself missing the engine as he travelled in silence back to Sodor. 

Henry had a mind to go back to the Moors. 

Maybe even take someone with him.

Another day, he thought to himself.

~~~

SR Repton

[hazel-of-sodor]

Presenting my newly revamped LMS Black 5!

[askhoisny]

Has anyone ever mistook Scotsman and Henry for each other. Y'know, the green paint and all.

SCOTSMAN: Nope. For one, our shade of green is different enough for people to see the difference from far away. Two, we’re different builds. I am a LNER A3 and he is an LMS Black 5.

GORDON: In the past, however, Henry and myself were quite often mistaken. Particularly when Henry was painted blue. Thankfully Sir Topham Hatt recognised his mistake and had Henry repainted green shortly after.