#Old railroad line

[bonguri]

20240227 Shinsiro 3 by Bong Grit Via Flickr: 河津桜トンネルです。色が濃い目で美しい。 @Nagashino area, Shinsiro city, Aichi pref. （愛知県新城市 長篠地区）

[mistrustmusic]

Buy a CD to help save an old train!!!!

[angelkarafilli]

Entrée du Robinet

Photo by Edouard Baldus (French (born Prussia), 1813–1889)

In July 1861 the board of directors for the southern region of the Paris-Lyon-Méditerranée Railroad commissioned Baldus to produce an album of views of the rail constructions and principal sites served by the line between Lyons, Marseilles, and Toulon. This line, especially the section linking Lyons and Avignon, followed trade routes established in antiquity alongside the Rhône, the most powerful river in France, whose strong current made navigation always difficult and perilous, and at times impossible. Perched on the very edge of the roadbed, Baldus photographed the track and the telegraph lines that ran parallel to it as they skirted along the east bank of the river at the Donzère Pass, the northern entrance to Provence. The ease with which the smooth rails recede into the distance and curve gently around the rugged cliff wall is an apt pictorial expression of the mastery of modern engineering over time and space. The photograph appears in the album "Chemins de fer de Paris à Lyon et à la Méditerranée."

Found on Met Museum/Public Domain

[badolmen]

Marijuana Walter White where are you…

[on-the-clear-blue]

Original idea coming from @the-witchhunter and then added on to by many others.

Dead Man's Diner

---

Danny was tired okay? It may very well be his own damn fault but he can't keep waking up during daylight hours, while yes, he can fully be up and sitting at a desk, the likelihood of him waking up getting shouted at by his boss for sleeping on the job was astounding.

So at 19 years old, freshly jobless, Danny said Fuck it and moved away from Amity Park, Valarie was more than willing to handle the few ghosts that still came through the portal since he became the King.

You might be wondering, why isn't Danny filthy rich and rolling in it as the ghost king? Two words, the Observants.

Those flouting eye bastards had moved in and said that unless he was the king full time, he was unable to access the vaults of the Infinite Realms.

So once again, 19, freshly jobless and wanting to get out of Gotham? Danny was very lucky to have friends that love him far to much, Sam and Tucker both pitched in to move him out to where they had chosen to do collage.

*Gotham* oh Sam was in love with the place, the architecture, the people, (and maybe a certain green supervillian that was determined to make the city better) and Tucker was obsessing over being in the same city as Wayne Enterprises, trying his best to get into their internship program by his own merit rather than just hacking himself into it.

And Danny? He was loving it for a slightly different reason.

While the death rate was unfortunately high in Gotham, that also meant that the amount of passive ectoplasim generated by the deaths was massive, it was almost as rich as back in Amity Park with the portal into the ghost zone!

(Oh and the many job opportunities but Danny was a little less worried about that.)

---

Letting out a sigh, Danny scrubbed at his eyes as he leaned back into his chair, another job he had to turn down due to it being shady as all get out.

4 hours and he was getting payed 200 bucks? Major criminal vibes from that...

Taking a moment to get himself balanced, Danny leaned back and looked to the clunky laptop that Tucker had given him, it was modified to hell and back, so it still ran quickly, but it sure as he'll wasn't pretty.

Clicking on yet another job listing, Danny paused as he felt a shiver run down his spine, and a blue mist pass through his lips, blinking, he twisted around to look at the spare room of Sam's apartment, Ghosts tend not to get close enough to him to trigger the ghost sense in Gotham...

Seeing nothing, Danny turned back to his laptop only to find a piece of paper stuck to the screen with tape, freezing at first, the dark haired man sighed deeply, peeling it off he held it close as he read it.

[Help wanted at Big C's Dinner! Looking for a night cook that knows their way around a kitchen!]

There was a few more lines that Danny's eyes skimmed over, picking up the location that it was at, it even had a decent pay, but he paid more attention to the scribbled on note at the bottom of it.

[Daniel, head to this place at 12 am tonight. While the Observants said that you may not touch a single coin in your vaults, they side nothing of your properties.]

---

So Danny knows how to handle himself, he has fought many, many people and still came out half alive, but even he felt a little on edge coming down to the railroad tracts in Gotham, because apparently that was were Big C's dinner was at...which he apparently owned? Clockwork works in mysterious ways that Danny was so done trying to figure out.

Stepping up to a bit of abandoned tract, he blinked a few times at the site of Big C's.

It was a decent sized Dinning Car, with a ramp that attached itself to a proper street, it had peeling green paint and dirty white accents with charming rusted steel connecting it to the tracts, the only thing new looking on it was a bit banner stretched across it, stating the name "BIG C'S ALL DAY EVERY DAY BREAKFAST CART! OPEN 24/7!"

The windows were close off by tinted yellow blinds, but he could still see light coming through them. Stepping up the ramp Danny felt the cart under him shudder and something inside of him fluttered, and by the time he was opening the door he could feel the reason why.

The very cart was *alive*, taking a quick breath, Danny could practically taste the energy from it, there was a buzzing undercurrent of excitement that rung through the whole cart.

A little unprepared for his, Danny just smiled warily, "Uhh, hey there? Anyone around?" In response to his words the cart shuddered, the blinds dancing up and down and he could hear the squeel of the wheels.

"O-okay then, um my name is Danny Fenton...Clockwork sent me?" There was another flapingnof the blinds, and the small wooden flap that let people into the back lifted up suddenly before clacking down loudly.

Taking a steadying breath, Danny slipped through the bar and into the back.

It was surprisingly clean and orderly, the stove and fryer looked over than his parents but well maintained, the flat top was perfectly scrubbed and was already heating up.

As Danny looked around, he felt a familiar shiver run down his spine, looking around once more, Danny fell into a fighting position as he spotted the figure of a familiar foe

"Lunch Lady? Aren't you a little far from home? What did your order of fist not come in?" The bright rings of light around Danny's waist swirled into life as he went into his ghost form.

He got a thrilling grin from the older apparition, but she only crossed her arms, "While we can tumble later little King, Lord Clockwork sent me personally, said you need a bit of help learning how to cook? And ain't nobody better slinging food than me, dead or alive!"

---

Down in the dripping depths of the cave system deep under Gotham, one Bruce Wayne, still in his Batsuit sat in front of the Bat Computer, eyes glaring at a map of Gotham.

He had been tracking a strange energy pattern that made its way through Gotham, he had first thought it was some sort of layline, but the more that he tracked it the more he realized it was closer to watching a person's walking patterns, sometimes following roads, and sometimes crisscrossing through streets and alleyways.

But tonight that power signal tripled in size, off-putting energy that Bruce hadn't seen it done before, tapping the com on his ear, he spoke clearly "Nightwing, take Red Robin and investigate the coordinates I am sending the both of you, observe it, I just got a massive spike in an energy at that location."

There was silence for a moment before the com crackled and his sons responded "Got it B! Me and RR needed a little time together huh Babybird?"

There was a quiet hum from Tim, before the teen spoke "On route Batman, after this I am heading in, we have a meeting with a suspect in the morning B, Vlad Masters has been poking around Gotham."

[inth3world]

So, I just realized that 'Twilight' was my dad's hyperfocus.

[ltwilliammowett]

Old naval slang

A small collection of terms from the 18th - early 20th century that were and probably still are known among sailors.

Admiralty Ham - Royal Navy canned fish Batten your hatch - shut up Beachcomber - a good-for-nothing Cape Horn Fever - feigned illness Cheeseparer - a cheat Claw off - to avoid an embarrassing question or argument Cockbilled - drunk Cumshaw - small craft - Chinese version of scrimshaw Dead Marine - empty liquor bottle Donkey's Breakfast - mattress filled with straw Dunnage - personal equipment of a sailor Flying Fish sailor - sailor stationed in Asian waters Galley yarn - rumour, story Hog yoke- sextant Holy Joe - ship's chaplain Irish hurricane- dead calm Irish pennant - frayed line or piece of clothing Jamaican discipline - unruly behaviour Knock galley west - to knock a person out Leatherneck - a marine Limey - a British sailor Liverpool pennant - a piece of string used to replace a lost button Loaded to the guards - drunk Old Man - captain of the ship One and only - the sailor's best girl On the beach - ashore without a berth Pale Ale - drinking water Quarterdeck voice - the voice of authority Railroad Pants - uniform trousers with braid on the outer leg seam Railway tracks - badge of a first lieutenant Round bottomed chest - sea bag Schooner on the rocks - roast beef and roast potatoes Show a leg - rise and shine Sling it over - pass it to me Slip his cable - die Sundowner - unreasonable tough officer Swallow the anchor - retire Sweat the glass - shake the hour glass to make the time on watch pass quickly - strictly forbidden ! Tops'l buster - strong gale Trim the dish - balance the ship so that it sails on an even keel Turnpike sailor - beggar ashore, a landlubber claiming to be an old sailor in distress Water bewitched - weak tea White rat - sailor who curries favor with the officers

Sailors' Language, by W. Clark Russell, 1883 Soldier and Sailor Words and Phrases. Edward Fraser and John Gibbons, 1925 Sea Slang, by Frank C. Bowen, 1929 Royal Navalese, by Commander John Irving, 1946 Sea Slang of the 20th century, by Wilfried Granville, 1949 The Sailor's Word Book, by Admiral W.H. Smyth, 1967

[theinnermeyoullneverknow]

I know I've shared this link before, but please take a few minutes to tell the US Federal Railroad Administration that we need more passenger trains. (Nicely! They know we need them and are gathering data for where they'll get the most bang for their buck, so to speak.) If you don't personally have any specific opinions on where trains are needed, please encourage them to reopen the old Amtrak Floridian line, because it would make my life so much nicer.

You don't even have to be in the US to submit feedback btw.

[spring-sage]

One of my patient’s from last week was a 92 year old admitted for hip pain.

He was resting on the stretcher while waiting for a room when I pulled up a chair to talk with him for a bit. I asked a few questions pertaining to the admission process, but ended up just enjoying the conversation we shared.

He told me all about his wife of 73 years. And about how they met while he was working on the railroad. She worked at a candy shop he used to visit every day.

His eyes teared up as talked about her and about how he wanted to get home to be with her—that he loves her so much, and doesn’t want her to worry about him. It made me a little teary-eyed, too.

I touched the top of his hand as I stood up, and said ���well, let’s give her a call. I’ll let her know you’re ok, and that you’re thinking of her.”

I saw the heaviness of his worries lift as soon as I handed him the phone with his wife on the other end of the line.

I sat at the nurses’ station while they talked, and watched their exchange for a moment. I couldn’t help but to think about all the things they must’ve experienced together.

And I thought about how special it is that after 73 years he still lights up at the sound of her voice.

[sacramentohistorymuseum]

On December 2, 1865, the Southern Pacific Railroad of California was incorporated in San Francisco. The company’s first formal project was the construction of a rail line from San Francisco to San Diego. Timothy Phelps served as the first president of the Southern Pacific until 1868 when the company was purchased the Big Four (Collis Huntington, Charles Crocker, Leland Stanford, and Mark Hopkins) of the Central Pacific.

The Central Pacific-Southern Pacific Railroad played a key role in not only the development of railroad lines in California, but also across the United States, the obvious being the first Transcontinental Railroad completed on May 10, 1869. By 1877, the Southern Pacific controlled 85 percent of railroad traffic in California and it had grown over the years as one of the major freight companies in the United States. In 1996, the Southern Pacific merged with the Union Pacific.

In honor of today, Howard went off the rails with this photo engraving that we have in our print shop exhibit. This cut of an old locomotive going off the rails was printed with black rubber based ink using our Washington hand press.

[bonguri]

20240227 Shinsiro 4 by Bong Grit Via Flickr: トンネルのあっち側から河津桜。 @Nagashino area, Shinsiro city, Aichi pref. （愛知県新城市 長篠地区）

[photo1030]

Pls do a fic or smthing where readers old guy friend finds her and they reconnect and they’re both crying and Arthur is like who is this and reader is like he’s my closest friend from home I haven’t seen him in ages and Arthur is all jealous kinda

Hi, Kids!

So sorry for the wait. Life has been busy, but I've been plugging away on this one. Thank you so much for this "ask"! This was actually an idea that I had for my regular "Arthur x reader" fic, so I was happy to oblige. I wrote this to coincide with my reg fic and I decided to go more angsty than smutty for this one, so I hope that is OK for the Anon who asked.

**Special thanks to @readingcoco for beta-reading for me. Your help was priceless.

LEATHER AND LACE - SAY HELLO TO AN OLD FRIEND

Summary: Arthur is none too pleased when you run into an old friend from your previous life. 

*This is not my image. This belongs to Rafa on Pintrest. Beautiful work there.

Masterlist

Tagging: @daisybvck

The banging of an anvil echoes heavily in your ears, the deafening ringing thumping in your brain. You and Arthur have wandered into the busy town of Cripple Creek to see the local farrier. You have spent the last day hunting and while coming down through the valley pass, your horse, Blue, had thrown a shoe. Never one to neglect your horse, you insisted Arthur take you into the closest town to get him some attention immediately. 

Now, Arthur is a firm believer in taking proper care of one’s horse, as a man’s horse means his survival. But the way you fuss over this spoiled animal as if he were your child causes Arthur to just chuckle and shake his head at you. 

Coming out of the farrier’s building, you shield the sun from your eyes as you look around at the townspeople. The area seems pleasant enough. It is a depot location for one of the railroad lines, so there is a lot of traffic. People are coming and going, always in a hurry to go somewhere or nowhere. But always in a hurry to get there all the same. 

You passed several pungent livestock farms on the way here, but now you can inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh air being pulled into your lungs. A slight breeze kicks up, lifting the soft tendrils of hair that frame your face to sway gently in its wake.

Arthur looks over as he lights his cigarette, amused at how your eyes roll closed and your whole body relaxes in a rare moment of peace and quiet. He really should get you out of that camp more often. Maybe he’ll hold off a bit on returning home, and the two of you can spend some more time alone together.

You can feel the bulk of him leaning in closer to you as his gloved hand runs down your spine to land on the small of your back. “Well, what do ya think? Should we get a room for the night or just rut about in the woods like we usually do?” 

Your lips pull into a smile at his suggestion, and when you open your eyes, you are met with Arthur’s twinkling suggestively at you. Your face immediately brightens as you turn your body into him, hands finding their way to his broad chest. Your fingertips play with the upturned collar of his faded black button-down shirt. Giggling with excitement at the idea, you push up onto your tiptoes, your nose flirtatiously inches from his. Arthur’s hands settle comfortably at your hips, his arms enfolding you.

“Y/N? Y/F&LN, is that you?”

 A vaguely familiar voice distracts you from answering Arthur’s question, but you can’t quite place it. Turning your head in confusion, you search for the source, and suddenly, your eyes widen with recognition. 

“Robert?” Your gaze lands on a tall, slender man making his way through the crowd towards you. He is well-dressed in a blue and gold brocade vest and has auburn hair neatly combed back. He’s sporting more facial hair than you remember, giving him a distinguished look. He’s a bit older now, but you’d recognize that wide, toothy smile anywhere. An unexpected shriek of excitement escapes your lips as your hands slip away from Arthur. “Robert!!”

Arthur stands there dumbfounded as he watches excitement overtake your whole body as you run into the waiting arms of this mystery man. Who in the hell is this person? And why did you just abandon Arthur to embrace him like that? You and this strange man hug each other tightly, laughing and smiling as if God himself had gifted you each other.

“I thought you were dead, Y/N!” the man exclaims, holding you at arm’s length so he can take a good look at you. 

“I thought you went to Europe! I thought I’d never see you again!” you laugh incredulously. Shaking your head in wonder, you throw your arms around the man’s neck again.

Arthur stands quietly, eyebrows knitted together, lips pulled into a thin line. He doesn’t like this one bit. The only person he’s ever seen you this excited over is him. Arthur’s fingers tap impatiently along his belt where his hands sit idle, as he waits for you to finish this reunion. Eventually, he clears his throat to try to turn your attention back to him.

Finally remembering yourself, you turn towards Arthur. “Arthur, this is Robert, my best friend.” Arthur’s eye catches how your arm eagerly loops around the man’s elbow. “We knew each other as kids. We grew up together back east!” You continue to gush as you present your old friend to your current lover. “Robert, this is Arthur.” You motion to the mountain of a man standing to your right. 

Robert’s face lights up as he boldly strides closer, extending his hand out to shake Arthur’s. “So nice to meet you, Arthur!” His voice chirps with bravado and swagger, instantly making Arthur’s skin crawl. When Arthur doesn’t reply with the same enthusiasm, Robert turns back to you, eyebrows raised with curiosity. “So, is this your…husband?”

A slight giggle comes from your lips at the suggestion. “No, we’re not married. But he is mine.” You smile proudly at Arthur, your hand reaching over and squeezing his. Arthur smiles down at you as his body drifts slightly closer to yours. His strong arm snakes around your waist until you rest protectively against him. When he sees you beaming at him, it sets him at ease a bit with this intruder and he tries to relax a little. 

“Robert, is it? Well, Robert, looks like you and Y/N go way back, huh?” Arthur asks, trying not to come off as annoyed as he feels right now. 

“Oh boy, do we. We used to get in all kinds of trouble together.” Robert waves his hand in emphasis, then reaches out to tap your arm. “Y/N, remember when we used to sneak out and stay up ‘til 3:00 in the morning?”

You cover your mouth in embarrassment. “God, if my father ever found out what we were up to, he’d have taken a belt to me for sure!” you roll your eyes.

Robert’s dark eyes fall upon you with a sweet and nostalgic look, one held with affection of a time long past. “Used to be you and me, spitting off the edge of the world, right?” He leans over to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from Arthur and into his side.

You smile affectionately back at your friend, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. You and me.” 

‘You and me’ - The phrase sticks in Arthur’s brain, a phrase you should only be using in reference to him… not some other random fella. His lip curls into a slight sneer of contempt, however, you are too caught up in the camaraderie with your friend to notice. 

“We need to catch up! Come on, let’s get a drink and a bite to eat. I want to know everything that’s been going on with you since we last saw each other,” insists Robert, tugging on the sleeve of your white cotton tunic. 

“Oh, yes!” You turn towards Arthur. “Can we, Arthur? We have time, don’t we?”

Right now, Arthur wants nothing more than to get you away from this man, this town and everyone else in the world. But he can’t say no to that wishful look on your face. He doesn’t have the heart to crush your hope. That has always been Arthur’s weakness:  he can never say no to you. 

“Fine, I guess we got some time to spare,” Arthur reluctantly agrees, trying to hide the disdain that threatens to break through his patient facade. You clasp your hands together, giving a little hop of excitement.

The three of you turn to head down the side of the street, with you and Robert chit-chatting incessantly the whole time. As you stroll along, Robert explains how he has become a lawyer and is traveling to California to take care of some estate affairs for a prominent family. He is just stopping for a layover in Cripple Creek to catch a connecting train.

Instead of going to a saloon, you reach a little restaurant along the main strip in town and head inside. Robert orders a bottle of the best liquor the bar has to offer, and you all sit around a table as he proceeds to tell you of all the gossip from back home. 

Robert is so animated and full of life and fun, not caring at all about the judgmental looks of others as he loudly tells you anecdote after anecdote. But he’s always been like this. For as long as you’ve known him Robert doesn’t care what anyone thinks and therefore is free to do as he pleases. This is something that you have always loved about him and why you were such good friends when you were younger. He was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy upper-class world. And to be honest, you always had a bit of a crush on him, too.

“So, David and Clare got married, you know,” he smirks. Of course, Robert is referring to your ex-fiance who you were betrothed to, who, as it turned out, was sleeping with your friend the whole time. 

“I figured as much,” you reply dismissively.

“Huge obnoxious wedding, of course.” Robert waves his hand with a flourish.

You huff out an unimpressed chuckle. “I figured as much,” you repeat again.

“Wasn’t even six months, and the rumors were flying about his infidelity.” Robert laughs at the absurdity of it. You roll your eyes and take a large swig from your glass. “You dodged a bullet there, my friend.” Robert gives you a wink. 

Arthur has to stifle a snicker at the irony of the man’s choice of language.

“Probably should’ve just married you myself,” smiles Robert. The statement makes you blush a bit under Robert’s affectionate gaze. But it is a statement that sets Arthur on edge. 

Arthur patiently pretends to listen as you and Robert continue to laugh and joke about old friends and the social scene you left behind, the pair of you growing more and more chummy, until eventually, you find yourself resting a hand on Robert's forearm as you speak. Arthur clenches his fist tightly under the table, his eyes staring at your fingers and watching as they absentmindedly dance along Robert’s arm. It is not intended to be a flirtatious move, as it is a mannerism that you often do when you are excited about what you are talking about. But it is an action that Arthur resents all the same right now. 

You try your best to involve Arthur in the conversation but to be frank, you are discussing people and places that he has no frame of reference for. The only thing that does pique his interest is the way Robert keeps referring to you. That certainly has Arthur's attention. But he has to be careful. He can see how happy you are and doesn't want his temper to burst your little bubble. However, if he had his way, he would be grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the closest hotel to make you forget your own name, let alone another man's.

Arthur hates that you have this “other language” and bond with someone who is not only outside the gang, but outside his class altogether. He’d forgotten where you came from and what you’d given up to be with the Van Der Linde gang and him along with it. And this conversation with this ghost of your past only confirms it. Arthur tries not to glare at Robert as he takes in the man’s fine clothing and clean hands that have probably never seen a day of labor in his life. 

The whole thing is a harsh reminder that Arthur may not only be holding you back in life but actually pushing you down. 

“So,” Robert finally turns his attention away from you, ”What do you do for a living, Art?” Robert asks innocently.

The very sound of Robert’s voice makes Arthur bristle. “The name…is Arthur,” he grits out. “And it’s none of your damn business what I do.” At this point, Arthur wants nothing more than to plant his massive fist in this pompous fool’s face.

You instantly pick up on Arthur’s annoyance. You can see his steel blue eyes set hard as his fist clenches around the glass in his hand. Arthur’s head tilts slightly to the side as he watches Robert, and you know from experience that he is measuring the man up. Robert is only being nice, ever the extravert, but he has no idea what sort of man is sitting across from him. 

“Easy now, Arthur,” you chuckle nervously as you pat his burly forearm. “Robert is only asking out of curiosity.” Arthur shoots you a look that you can’t quite place. “Arthur does a little bit of everything,” you quickly answer Robert to avoid further awkwardness. “He’s done bounty work, loan collecting, things like that.”

“Interesting,” muses Robert. 

“Well, I’d rather be an honest sinner than a lying hypocrite,” asserts Arthur as he levels his gaze across the table at Robert.

“I assume you work with horses quite a bit, too, then?” Robert pushes as his eyes roam up and down over Arthur.

“I do.”

“Figured as much. You seem pretty ‘rough and rugged’ like the cowboys we read about back in the city.” Arthur’s eyebrows knit as his mouth turns into a slight frown. “Oh, I don’t mean anything by it, friend! You look fantastic!” Robert insists. “In fact, I couldn’t be happier for Y/N. Looks like she’s got herself a real man. Those sniveling, uppity simpletons back home were never her type.”

“And I assume you are?” Arthur asks. This causes you to look at him questioningly. 

“Me? Oh, no. We were never like that.” Robert waves the comment off, not reading the underlying meaning of Arthur’s question.

“He’s right. Being married to Robert would be like being married to a puppy,” you joke, trying to lighten the ominous mood that Robert is thankfully oblivious to.

“True. But, you have to admit, we would have made quite the pair, wouldn’t we?” Robert leans over and nudges you in the side with that wide smile of his again. 

Arthur roughly grabs his glass of whiskey and throws it back, the bitter liquor hitting his throat, before he slams the glass down onto the table. 

“What are you gettin’ at, there, Robert? Hmm? You think Y/N would be better off with you than me? Is that it?” The icy stare that Arthur throws at Robert is cold enough to frost the windows of the room. His chiseled jaw sets tightly, his body tense as if about to explode. Your stomach drops as you realize that Robert has indeed crossed a line with Arthur, whether he has intended to or not. And you find yourself at an impasse:  do you stand by your man, or do you defend your oldest and dearest friend?

Finally, seeing that Arthur is not amused by his antics, Robert takes the hint and clears his throat nervously. “Well, it has been so wonderful to catch up with you, Y/N!” He stands up from the table and adjusts his vest, running his hand over his hair to make sure everything is still in its place. You and Arthur stand as well in anticipation of the farewell. You are reluctant to say goodbye to your friend, and Arthur is anxious to leave. 

The three of you silently file out of the little restaurant together and onto the busy sidewalk.

“I truly hope we can do this again sometime soon, Y/N. Maybe if I swing through these parts again, I’ll reach out.” Robert says hopefully.

“I’d like that, Robert. Please do.” You affectionately place your hand on his arm. “I’ve missed you quite a bit since I’ve been out here.” You give each other a tight hug, one that lasts a bit longer than Arthur’s liking. But then again, Arthur doesn’t like anyone touching you for any reason. 

“Arthur, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Robert smiles and sticks his arm out to shake Arthur’s hand again, which he reluctantly does. Arthur’s large hand dwarfs Robert’s as it clamps down extra hard. “Take good care of our girl, yes?” 

“Sure,” Arthur deadpans. “Our girl.”

Robert gives you both an awkward smile and turns to head back down the street towards the train depot. Your eyes follow him as your chest feels heavy at having to say goodbye to a part of your past. 

When you turn back to Arthur to thank him for his patience, you are met with his hard face. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he snaps. 

Sighing in exasperation, you cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t give me that.” You knew this argument was coming. 

“Just that you seem awfully close with that Robert fella.” The contempt in Arthur’s voice is not lost on you.

“Well, yeah, he’s my best friend.” 

Arthur’s jaw clenches just a bit more at your answer. “Uh-huh.”

Your head tilts slightly to the side, eyes narrowing as you study him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Like I said, you two seem awfully close.” His voice drops low and slow, almost spitting out the words like a spoiled piece of meat.

“That’s because we are. He was the only true friend I had, Arthur.” You shuffle your weight from hip to hip, becoming increasingly uncomfortable under Arthur’s scrutiny. You suddenly feel like one of his marks.

“Uh-huh.” Arthur’s simple responses quickly escalates your annoyance as you watch him pull a cigarette out of his pocket, striking the match on the nearby building with enough force that the wooden stick almost snaps between his fingertips. 

“Oh my God, are you jealous?” you ask, disturbed at the turn in the conversation. 

“Nope.” Dipping his head down, his eyes are hidden by his dusty, worn hat as his fingers bring the cigarette back up to his lips. 

“No?”

“Alright, maybe I am,” he suddenly spins on you, face turning crimson. “Maybe I don’t like how excited you get to see another man. Maybe I don’t like you all laughing and smiling at someone else.” 

Your heart begins to pound in your ears, taken aback by his surge of anger. “Arthur-”

“Don’t!” he barks at you. “Just…don’t! I can’t compete with that, and you know it!” He points his finger accusingly at you. 

“Arthur, I'm not asking you to compete with anyone! In fact, there’s a reason why I left all that behind.” You step towards him, arms raised to embrace him, but he blocks your hands with his own.

“Save it!” And he storms off, leaving you standing there on the sidewalk. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, leaving you queasy. A storm of guilt, frustration, and yes even anger, rages inside your chest. You wrap your arms around yourself as you try to make sense of what just happened.

“Damn it, Arthur,” you mutter. 

—---------------------------------------------------

Rather than chase after him, you decide to leave Arthur be and give him time to cool off. There’s no talking to him when he gets like this, as it usually escalates into a fight if you push it. You feel awful for making him feel bad, as you are well aware of how self-conscious he is. But then again, what about your feelings? You have every right to visit with an old friend and a dear one at that. Yes, you know how it looks. You and Robert always did have a special bond that bordered on the flirtatious side. But you love Arthur. And he knows that. You love him with a depth that could swallow the stars. And you are getting tired of having to constantly prove that to him.

After an hour of wandering the local shops to stall for time, you decide to find Arthur, knowing exactly where you’ll find him. Your boot heels click along the worn floorboard of the porch outside of the saloon. You can hear the chatter and piano music coming from inside. You look through the window, eyes searching for your target. Between the small sea of dusty hats and hulking shoulders, you catch sight of that familiar form that you seek. 

Walking into the building, your hands roll over each other, fingers intertwining, as you take a shaky breath when you approach Arthur at the bar. You glide onto the stool beside him, fidgeting slightly to get comfortable. He sits quietly, still brooding with a menacing vibe radiating off of him. You motion to the bartender, who walks over when he catches your eye. “What’ll it be, Miss?”

“A beer, please.” 

“Comin’ right up”. It only takes a minute for him to grab a bottle and set it next to the coin you’ve already placed for him. His thick, ready fingers pick it up off the bar top with a pleasant nod of approval as he sets about his previous task. 

You spin the bottle between your fingertips, looking at Arthur from the corner of your eye. “So, are we going to talk about this?”

He continues to sulk quietly, lifting a shot of whiskey to his lips and downing it in one. His jaw clenches at the sting of the cheap liquor, but he promptly pours another shot into the diminutive glass, the bottle half empty at this point.

“Alright, fine.” You take a swig of your beer.

“Where’s your ‘friend’?” Arthur grunts without even looking at you. 

“Robert is about to get on a train.”

“Mmhmm”.

“Arthur-”

“Alright, look, I’m sorry,” he interupts, slicing his hand through the air as if to end the argument right here. “Please don’t make a big deal outta this.”

“What were you worried about? That I’d run off with Robert?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he blurts out bitterly.

“You can’t be serious?” Your face twists up in shock. He only answers you with a snort of derision. “Arthur, I was excited to see an old friend. That’s all,” you stress emphatically. “You have to remember, I am surrounded by your people, your family, all of the time. This is the first time I’ve seen someone from my previous life.” Your tone unwittingly begins to take on one of annoyance as you try to plead your case. But it is an argument that is falling on deaf and angry ears.

“I’m sorry, I thought the gang was ‘your people’, too,” he bites back. Arthur can be a reasonable man until he is provoked, and then reason doesn’t factor in at all. 

“Well, they are,” you backpedal sheepishly at his harshness. Your gaze falters to land on the bottle in your hands before attempting to meet Arthur’s again. “But you know what I mean. You can’t be angry because I was happy to see someone from my life that, heaven forbid, didn’t involve the Van der Linde gang.” 

Artur just pouts in silence. You are getting really irritated at this point, but trying to remain calm and not cause a scene.

“So you’d just let me run away with Robert rather than talk to me and ask me to stay with you? Is that it?” you huff.

“Couldn't help but notice how excited you were to hear about everything back home. Almost like you miss it. Pretty damn clear after your little visit today that you don’t even belong here. Maybe you should.” And another shot gets poured into the glass.

Damn it, and there it is. The thing that always seems to be present in your relationship:  the idea that you still don’t belong, even after all this time and everything that you’ve done. Arthur still doesn’t see you as “one of them”. And it is a sting that doesn’t sit well with you at all. 

Your eyes begin to well up as you try to fight the lump forming in your throat. ”I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Your lips tremble slightly with emotion, a mix of betrayal and anger swirling and bubbling up inside you like one of Pearson’s stews.

The very insinuation is hurtful to you. You have turned your life upside down for the gang and for him. And yet, it seems it will never be enough. It’s as if you are being punished for having a decent life before you were thrust into this new one. You didn’t fit into society back east, and it seems you still don’t fit here either. 

“Stop with the theatrics. I ain’t in a mood for it.” Arthur slings back another shot of whiskey. 

“You really are an ass sometimes, Arthur,” you stammer in disappointment.

He immediately slams his shot glass down on the bar, shattering it. The action startles you, your eyes shooting wide open. Arthur finally turns to face you now, his eyes burning into you so intensely that it causes you to cringe. You know damn well that you’re not perfect. But, it always made you feel special that Arthur seemed to think so. But the look he’s giving you right now is plain enough for you to know that he no longer believes it. 

And the wounded expression on your face enrages Arthur even more. The sight of you cowering like a lamb to slaughter because of his anger is too much. He’s furious at the everything right now:  you, Robert, this town, and more importantly, himself. He grabs the whiskey bottle on the counter and whips it at the wall, sending shards of glass flying into the thick smokey air to rain down onto the immediate vicinity. 

With your breath shaking, you slowly stand and back away from him. For the first time ever…you are afraid of him.

The tumultuous noise alerts the bartender, who promptly yells at Arthur. “Hey, watch it! You gotta problem, you take it outside! Don’t be causing a ruckus around here!” He shoves his thick, meaty finger towards the doors. 

“Mind your own goddamn business ‘fore I give you a problem!” Arthur shouts back, now standing as well, leveling his gaze at the bartender. 

With Arthur distracted by the barkeep, you turn and push your way through the now-curious crowd and make a dash for the door. 

Your feet clumsily carry you down the steps as you sprint into the street, eyes watering and hands trembling from anger. 

“Hey! Hey! (Y/N)!” It doesn’t take long before you hear Arthur’s gravelly voice hollering down the street for you. 

“Leave me alone, Arthur!” you shout over your shoulder, not even bothering to turn around. Tears of anger are dangerously close to flowing as you walk even faster, your arms pumping back and forth to propel you further down the road. But Arthur is quick to catch up to you with his long strides.

“Where you goin’?” You can hear him quickly stalking up behind you, his spurs jingling heavily in the dirt of the street. 

“Doesn’t matter, right? I don’t belong here, remember?” You throw his words back into his face with such a biting tone. “Maybe I’ll see if there’s a seat next to Robert on the damn train!”

“Like hell you will!” Arthur yanks on your arm, his grip painful like a vice, spinning you around. 

But before you can even think clearly, your hand flies as if of its own accord, and you hear the sharp smack land across his cheek, cracking in the air before you feel the sting against your delicate hand. Arthur’s head snaps to the side from the strike, his eyes twisted shut from the impact.

Gasping, your eyes shoot open in shock as your hands immediately cover your mouth. You stand there, silent and trembling. Your chest heaves with broken breathing and choked sobs as you take a few steps back from him. You hate him so much right now. Not because of what he’s said, although that is bad enough, but because he has pushed you to this point. You never, ever want to hurt him. Arthur is dearer to you than life itself. You had never imagined raising a hand or weapon to the man you so desperately love, and yet, he has pushed you, backed you into a corner, to do so. 

“Oh…I’m sorry,” you utter, the sound barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.” Your eyes are glossy with unshed tears as your unwavering gaze never leaves his face, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. As you blink rapidly, a tear finally escapes your lower lash to cascade and roll over your hot cheek. 

Arthur freezes before his gaze slowly turns back to you. But what he sees shocks him. The very sight of you in your heightened state almost breaks his heart in two. Shame coats his insides as he realizes his jealousy has gotten the best of him. And the pain and fear in your eyes is worse than any bullet to the gut, rocking him to his very core. 

Arthur’s expression journeys from one of rage to shock to one of absolute remorse. He says nothing, which begins to terrify you even more. Arthur is known for his temper, even taking his frustrations out on you when needed. You pride yourself on the notion that Arthur may be difficult to handle but never for you. You have always been able to read him, to know his mind better than himself, which is why he relies on you so greatly. You set his world to right when it goes off-kilter. But now, you feel a great divide between you. You stare at him with no idea of what will happen next. 

Arthur’s strong arms extend out towards you as a silent apology. But instead of falling into them, you shrink back from him. He halts immediately, turning his palms up in surrender. But slowly, he steps a bit closer to you. Arthur reaches out again, wrapping his hands carefully around your biceps. He can feel you tremble slightly under his fingertips. 

Regret sits heavily upon his brow. You can see the self-reproach embedded into his eyes as he stares into yours, searching for forgiveness that he prays you’ll grant him.

Your eyes leave his face, a silent understanding settling between you as you focus on the buttons of his shirt, watching as his chest rises and falls with his calming breath. 

With a deep sigh, he silently escorts you into the privacy of the immediate alley, gently pushing you back against the siding of the post office. 

“You’re mine.” Arthur does not say this out of anger or possession. Nor has he faltered into a blubbering mess. He simply utters the statement as pure fact, no question.  

“Am I?” you stammer. Your eyes lift to search his, looking for any doubt that may still linger. 

“You sure as shit are.” Arthur’s voice is low but carries the loving undertone you always take refuge in as the slightest hint of a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“Really? Ten minutes ago, you were ready to let me walk out that door. Told me that I shouldn’t be here.”

Arthur pulls his lips inward at the dismay in your quaking voice. “I shouldn’t ‘ve said that. That was me being a goddamn idiot. But, it is true, ya know. You don’t belong in that gang, Y/N. I keep tellin' ya you’re too good for it. You deserve the finer things in life, things like Robert can give ya.” 

Your shoulders fall with a painful sigh as your eyes gently drift shut again. You are so tired of having this same conversation over and over again.

“But,” he continues, “I do want you there. I want you with me. I need you, Y/N. We need you. It’s selfish, I know.” His chin bobs slightly in acknowledgement. “God forgive me, but we do.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Arthur. I want to belong somewhere. And to someone.” You look at Arthur with an almost desperate expression on your face. Your whole life, you’ve been floating like a leaf in the wind, bobbing about with no particular place to land. You thought you had finally found your place, your home, with the Van Der Linde gang, no matter how unlikely it seemed. And when Arthur threw it back in your face, it was like being pushed off a cliff to free-fall backwards with no one to catch you. 

He lifts his rough hand to cup your face, his thumb ghosting over your cheek. “I won’t ever let you go, Y/N. Not ever. Not even if someone else comes along.” Your eyes begin to flutter again as the feeling of his skin on yours reassures you. You wrap your own hands around his wrist, holding his hand in place as you lean your face into his warm palm.

“Arthur, I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. The way you make me feel when I look at you is why I could never look at another.” Your eyes sparkle brightly in earnest, the last of your tears rimmed along your lashes. 

He only hesitates a moment before he pulls you close to him. He secures you safely against him where you belong, your chest pressed up against his as powerful arms coil around you to lock you in. Arthur lowers his face to nudge your nose with his before planting his lips to kiss you slow and deep, taking your breath away.

When his lips separate from yours, Arthur briefly rests his forehead on yours before pulling back to look into your face once more. His eyes are intense and reflect a deeper shade of blue than you’ve ever seen. A wolfish grin begins to emerge under that peppered beard stubble as his finger tucks a rogue strand of hair behind your ear.

“Like I said, Y/N, you…are…mine.”

[seat-safety-switch]

Near my place is a bit of disused rail line. I mention "disused" because that adjective is legally important: the local railroad asserts that they own it, they control it, and we must never, ever trespass upon it, in case they decide to start sending fully loaded freight trains down their 120-year-old train line through the middle of what is now a suburb without any prior notice.

What this means in practice is that, a couple times a summer, some teenager will come by with a truck to weed-whack all the grass grown around the rails. If they keep it maintained, then they still have a decent claim to it, I guess. They keep inventing little mini-projects like that, just to look busy and not abandoned. None of those legalities are fascinating to me. Only the truck is fascinating: it's a hi-rail.

In case you are unfamiliar with the concept of a hi-rail, it's a special pickup truck. Looks like a normal pickup truck, but they can flip down some little train wheels and drive it on the tracks. The regular rubber tires push, the little train wheels keep it from falling off. Genius stuff, really: it's a train until it doesn't need to be a train. The future of transport. So of course when these trucks get too old and are sent to auction, those greedy bastards at the railroad make sure to pull them off. They don't want anyone getting any ideas about driving on their tracks, you see.

That said, most people aren't that observant. If you grab a white pickup truck from the auctions and are very careful about your steering, you can head all the way down the train tracks yourself. Other folks won't bother you as long as you're wearing a reflective safety vest, even those folks working for the railroad. All this is to explain why the disused rail line next to the bike path has the remnants of a freshly-harvested weed farm on it, along with some asshole's truck with a broken ball joint stuck across the tracks. Turns out the railway is going to get another mini-project to justify their existence after they figure out how to tow it out of there.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Help Stop a Clearcut - Deadline May 17, 2024! Reblogs appreciated!

Hey, folks, got a time-sensitive request for y'all--even if you aren't a PNW resident, can you please put in a word to save the legacy/mature forest on Mothball Hill just outside Astoria, OR? Comments to NOT clearcut the forest on Mothball Hill can be sent to odf.sfcomments@odf.oregon.gov and need to be received by 5pm Pacific Standard Time on May 17. Reblogs ALSO help!

As per this article:

"North Coast Communities for Watershed Protection requests your consideration and immediate action to help safeguard drinking water and residents’ health in rural neighborhoods east of Astoria. Written comments are needed by Friday, May 17, regarding ongoing and upcoming Oregon Department of Forestry timber harvests in Clatsop County. Anybody may submit a comment to ODF; you do not need to be a resident of Clatsop County. Please see below for more details.

Currently, the NCCWP Astoria Chapter is working to notify residents whose property is in close proximity to proposed 2025 ODF timber harvests in Clatsop County. On May 5, we surveyed Unit 2 of the Mothball Hill Harvest and met some of the concerned residents whose property is immediately adjacent to the timber sale. We are working with them closely.

Leading up to the May 17 deadline for comments about the ODF Annual Operations Plan (AOP), we are hoping to visit as many of these sites as possible — knocking on people’s doors directly adjacent to these potential timber harvests. Many people who live in these houses may not be aware that the forestland near their homes is scheduled to be clearcut and sprayed with a “cocktail” of pesticides. Our goal is to notify these homeowners and provide them with appropriate resources and support so that they can get involved and comment on the AOP before the opportunity ends. These clearcuts and pesticide applications may directly affect people’s health, livelihoods, recreational activities, and property values. Ultimately, they will adversely affect the quality and quantity of coastal drinking water by exacerbating the climate crisis, perpetuating drought, and increasing the risk of wildfires, landslides, and the runoff of sediment and pesticides into waterways.

Here’s a letter sent to community members, ODF, BoF, and Clatsop Co. officials from Darren Orange, a resident neighboring the Mothball Hill Harvest: 

A request for your consideration and action,

The Oregon Department Of Forestry released their 2024 Annual Operations Plan and has selected a previously unmanaged, non-intentionally planted, natural “Legacy Forest” for CLEARCUT AND AERIAL SPRAY. The location is in Clatsop Forest Astoria District on “Mothball Hill” east of Astoria in the John Day estuary. This proposed clearcut will impact a previously unmanaged biodiverse forest with trees, and mycorrhizal networks well over 100 years old. The geographical location is extremely steep and the boundaries for cutting would push into the Columbia River at its northernmost point. Slide potential is high, threatening the railroad, and homes both on private drive Phil Rd., Highway 30, and Deer Valley Rd. 

Located between Astoria, (2 miles to the west) and the Twilight Eagle Sanctuary (2 miles to the east) this rich habitat and watershed is home for bald eagles, beaver, blue heron, cougar, bobcat, coyotes, and waterways for native salmon.  The year-round streams run directly into the John Day and Columbia Rivers. The location will be seen on Highway 30, and visible from both rivers as a monstrous scab. 

The home and hobby garden I share with my wife borders 300′ of Clatsop Forest. Neon survey markers now weigh heavily, glaring at us 20′ from our kitchen window. Trees marked for cut purposely planted by homeowners over 50 years ago as property lines now marked for harvest. We watch: protected migratory birds, marine birds, bald eagles, blue heron, osprey, and others. We’ve listened to the call of bobcats and coyotes from their resting and breeding dens. We’ve seen beavers in the estuary. Salmon and crayfish are commercially harvested here. The rich native flora and mycelium network show the health of the forest and offer many plant medicines. This is just a window of the species we see everyday. 

The impact and damage on this ecosystem is vast. The unintended consequences of aerial spray, blowdown due to compromised forest integrity, slides, and aesthetic harm to private property value, boating/kayaking and tourism, commercial and recreational fishing are all part of the cost vs minimal $1.1 million dollar profit.

PUBLIC COMMENTS ARE ENCOURAGED, AND CLOSE VERY SOON ON MAY 17TH!

I’m asking the greater community to please write and pass along your concerns to the Oregon Department of Forestry about this clearcut timber sale in one of the oldest stands in the area. This stand has not been managed or replanted so it represents a key forest in its health and history. I ask that ODF look into alternative locations such as managed/planted forests with less impactful methods that follow the soon to be Federal Habitat Conservation Act that would preserve older stands. I ask that ODF follow their own Key Performance Measures of complex layered forest structure. I ask ODF NOT TO MOVE FORWARD WITH THIS TIMBER SALE.

Sincerely, 

Darren Orange

local resident of 25 years

business owner

property owner

Email – odf.sfcomments@odf.oregon.gov

interactive map

[the-literal-kj]

SHOW THE WAY

Chapters 1 through 7 out of 10 -- 2 new chapters up!

Written for the 2024 Good Omens Theatre Reverse Bang, with concept & stunning art by the incomparable @illustrious-slimeman!

~

Good Omens fanfiction. 14k/25k words. Currently Rated M. Read it on A03.

SUMMARY: There was a point in Crowley’s life when he wouldn’t have been caught dead aboard the Metro-North Railroad commuter train bound for the hell that was Connecticut. And yet, here he was. Far enough from New York City so his reputation doesn't precede him and at his latest gig as a lighting tech, he meets stuffy, rules-following, interim-director Aziraphale. But is there room enough in Greenwich for two drama queens?

CW: Mind the CWs at the start of each chapter!! We're getting a bit serious now before that happy ending!

Thank you to my betas @hakunahistata, @gaiaseyes451, @angie-words, @ines2925, @playdohangel & @secretlywingedphantom and to the @goodomensafterdark and @whickberstreetwriters communities for all their support!!

Excerpt:

There was a hush out here. No highways, no birds even. Not at this hour. But Crowley could hear the blood rush in his ears as he drew closer, as he watched Luc twist the deadbolt shut. Just the two of them, falling back on old habits that hadn’t been buried far enough under the farmhouse dirt.  Crowley’s lips were on Luc’s before he could convince himself otherwise, tasting nectar and cinnamon undercut by a hard line of his own guilt. He’d said he wanted to forget, but everything about this was excruciatingly familiar, right down to the feeling of Luc’s body pressed between his and the wall, though perhaps a touch softer than he’d known before. It was home and safety and asylum and Luc did that thing with his tongue that he’d always liked and then those hands were pressing on his chest and– “Anthony, wait.” 

Read the rest on A03!

💚 kj

[theology101]

I’m bored, so I’m rewriting fallout 4. Lets start with the big factions

Part 2

Fallout 4 Enhanced, part 1 - major factions

The Minutemen

So despite trying to uphold the values of Old World America, it’s a military junta made up of disorganized paramilitary troops. My brother in Christ, thats Yugoslavia.

After retaking the Castle, we should have the ability to form a democratic government and perfect the Commonwealth Provisional Government. And then have elections for Governor that the player can run for but also very much can choose not to. If you’re playing an evil Institute run one candidate should be Mayor McDonough as your puppet, but forbidding you from running. If we’re rebuilding America, let’s start with Democracy, eh? I think that the president should be Abigail Finch, but I’ll take Blake Abernathy or Preston Garvey.

Also, I want there to be a continuous through line of the Gunners-Minutemen rivalry. Honestly, once the Institute is gone, I want a big set piece battle against the Gunners in Quincy (maybe destroying the Overpass with Artillery?) and freeing the still captive population of Quincy. Give us a fourth act, semi protracted factional conflict

I think it would actually be fun if this was a multi faction battle, but we’ll get there.

Railroad

The biggest negative for them (besides the brain wiping) is that they put a lot of focus and effort into freeing *only* Synths. Which makes sense, because there are only Synth Slaves in the Commonwealth (besides ones explicitly being removed) - so here is an idea, say that is because of the Railroad. Make them be this famous and legendary group who’s broken up countless slaver groups and factions, and have no turned to the Synth as their latest Crusade.

It’d definitely give them a lot more good will with your average citizen who, even if they don’t like Synths, remembers their story. A large, established network that stretches across the entire East Coast that has the vast resources to fight the Institute on a level, if asymmetric, playing field. Hell, let’s even have a few long-term Brotherhood infiltrators who are leaking secrets to the Railroad (Maybe they’re a vertibird pilot who “throws their trash” and agents pick up the encoded message). They know of the Brotherhood and have agents in the Capital Wasteland, it isn’t impossible. There should be an option to assassinate Maxson and replace him with Danse whos more sympathetic and wont attack them, but also won’t work with them either.

Speaking of, during the Battle of Quincy, they should be freeing slaves. We see massive empty cages when we go in game, have them filled and make it the basis of the Gunner’s new slave trade operation. We convince Desdemona for a joint strike, so while our artillery is firing, a few squads of heavies and infiltrators hit the cages, free the prisoners, and bounce before anyone notices.

Brotherhood of Steel

This one is going to be the most radically changed, because I think the Brotherhood, while cool in principle, felt undercooked. Which is why I think there should be sub-factions within the Brotherhood of Steel - Hard Liners and Sympathizers, split between their view of Synths. Brotherhood Ideology is not monolithic, in fallout 2 there were debates if Super Mutants were bad, or Hostile Super Mutants only, and similar ones about Ghouls exist in Fallout 3. And then there are the ones who are Space Marines fighting for the God Emperor Elder Maxson.

Hard Liners: Kells, Quinlan and Teagen

Sympathetics: Ingram, Cade, Neriah and Madison Li

Maxson himself starts off as a Hardliner, but based off of choices in other questlines, the Brotherhood’s own new quest lines from the characters I just mentioned, and your charisma in dialogue checks, can be changed into being Sympathetic.

Kells is just a straight military man, also the easiest Hard Liner to convert once you convince him of the military impossibility of trying to actually find Synths, his quest would probably be making an airbase at one of your settlements for the Brotherhood. Quinlan is just a Maxson sycophant and propagandist and has fully bought into whatever Maxson says, even writing his propaganda piece, he also already has quests so he’s good. Teagan is a right bastard and Synth Racist, who will also disapprove of you making democracy if you’re a Minuteman - you have one quest were he sends a squad to intimidate your settlement and they kill the squad and you can either punish them or bring Teagan up on charges of plundering and terrorizing innocents.

Ingram feels a lot of sympathy for the Synths due to her own bio-mechanical nature and thinks that some institute tech can be used for good like agriculture or limb replacement. Her quests should be about finding a way to lessen her work load, maybe with robots, maybe by training and recruiting settlers, maybe by optimizing the Prydwen - her quest ends with her leaving the power armor frame and getting to sleep. Cade is a doctor, he isn’t too interested but since he cant tell a Synth from a Human under tests, he doesn’t really trust the Brotherhood to perform summary executions of them - his quest should just be getting the Covenant research to validate his assumption of ‘dont kill synths.’ Neriah thinks that Institute research in general, especially in bio science, and that Synth researchers with their long lives and rad resistance would be a massive boon for the Brotherhood, she also thinks Synths are similar to Star Paladin Cross and he was fine? - her quest already exists. Madison Li obviously values Synths and the Institute and, one step further, doesn’t want to destroy it either. Hold trials and take over? Sure, but not destroy a perfectly good lab filled with good people

Also, someone on the Sympathetic side is a Railroad agent but idk who, you decide! Not the only one, but definitely the highest ranking

Based off of all these people and their quests, I want a Far Harbor style “Everyone pause and let’s talk about it!” where there is just a full on debate between the leaders of the Brotherhood about wether or not Synths need to be destroyed, or just the method of creating and controlling Synths, allowing them to be free people. Hell, let this happen after Danse runs off but before you go get him. Make a case that the Institute records you stole have him as an escaped slave who then enlisted, of his own free will - while he needs to be taken off the active line of fire while the Institute still has the ability to control him (albeit only up close and if he hears it, so maybe just blast death metal?), let him be the thing that changes Maxson’s policy.

Or if you’re an absolute bastard, instead of doing anything that I just said you encourage everyone’s worst tendencies. Tell Cade that Covenant is almost there and that you let them carry on, get Proctor Ingram believing in conspiracy theories and Teagan an alt-right podcast where they debate whether or not the Brotherhood should have mandatory breeding regulations. I doubt anyone would play it, and all this option would do is lock you out of other stuff (probably preventing or toppling the Commonwealth Provisional Government but hey, at least you get to be Elder of the newly founded Commonwealth Chapter!), but if someone wants to be a bastard and not an unhinged freak who eats corpses, this is how

Let your choices in the story matter.

For the Battle of Quincy, just send a vertibird or two and drop in some guys in power armor and heavy weapons. Land them inside the walls while the Minutemen storm the gates - after the Artillery and Railroad have escaped, of course

The Good Ending

Before we get to the Institute, this is what I call the Good Ending. With the Brotherhood no longer having a desire to take down the Synth, and the Railroad, while powerful, very much lacking the firepower to take down the Institute, are both brought to the Castle for a meeting between Maxson, Desdemona, the Governor, Preston Garvey and you (if you’re not Governor-General). There is shouting, yelling, insults traded (maybe there is even an intermission) but unless you fuck up badly or intentionally screw yourself, you have a joint Minuteman-Railroad-Brotherhood attack force against the Institute.

The Brotherhood still play Pacific Rim, as a distraction, while Railroad operatives sneak through the tunnel system in the Charles. By the time Liberty Prime has blasted a hole into the Earth and Minutemen and Brotherhood troops are storming the base, Loyal and Rebel synths are already fighting on the ground for their freedom. Unlike in game, some of these scientists absolutely would not go down swinging. I can talk those nerds in bioscience or engineering are gonna fight to the Death? SRB sure, but come on. Maybe not all of them are genuine and there is some post game shit with that but with your planning and overwhelming advantage, the Institute falls rather bloodlessly

Now, you can decide to do what Arthur wants you to do and blow it up, or… you can decide to give the Institute to be jointly run by the three factions and the Synths. It’s just a social hub, maybe some act 4 shenanigans (racial conflict)

Oh boy,

The Institute

Hey what’s their goal?

Like, beyond keeping the surface permanently destabilized (Sabatouging any collective government, fomenting conflict between Goodneighbor and Diamond city, seeding Super Mutants at random to ensure chaos) so it remains their pretty, perfect little petri dish, what are their goals?

I got the idea for this from a youtube video, so I’m just gonna say it “Why did you program them to feel fear?” Like, what purpose does it serve to give the Synths complete, perfect sentience and then enslave them? The Gen 2s seemed to be doing just fine. Okay, maybe you wanted to make perfectly humanoid ones, why arent they all like Coursers? Why, why, why? And no one can give me a damn answer!

So, here’s an idea: Shaun is dying of Cancer, so he had his eyes set on True Immortality. A Gen IV Synth, perfectly capable of human thought and creativity, perfectly human in every biological way only superior - faster, stronger, quicker reflexes - immune to radiation, disease and starvation and, once they reach a certain age, become immortal. And I did say “reach a certain age.” Using biotech and nanomachines, lil Shaun is the first Gen IV Synth, born as an infant in a lab womb and fully capable of spreading as a new Ubermensch i mean, new tomorrow. Shaun was going to wait until the body was in its 20s, but his brain cancer is getting so bad that only fragments of his mind can be copied into the 10 year old body.

This should be an active debate of whether or not this is the next step in Cyborgs and Synths (after all, was Kellog not just a Synth at a certain point?) where as some view it as a gross violation of human dignity. Show me some angry academics, damn you! Regardless, some (especially older people) should be Quite Excited about getting flash copied into a “perfect” Gen IV body. This also, at least to me, explains why they needed to be perfectly human - they wanted a perfectly platform to hold onto their intelligence and not go insane or lose their “soul” like the Necrontyr-Necron. It gives an actual reason for all the weird shit they do

As Director you get to decide wether or not this gets to go ahead or not - also whether or not you should kill and replace people with Synths. Give me moral consequences, damn it, there is NO WAY Piper isnt getting replaced in an Institute Victory and you the player should have to carry that burden.

Also i want assassination missions where I replace people with Synths. I think it would be a fun stealth segment to get NPCs alone and either kill em or teleport em. We’re a shadowy cabal, we should be able to end all the faction disputes quietly. Send the brotherhood home, break apart the railroad in a single night. Right proper evil stuff. Or, if you want to play terminator, you role up with an army of death bots and destroy everything for the Gen IV Synth Army!

End Notes

Fallout 4 needed a fourth act. After the Institute is gone, nothing changes. I just blew up a solid chunk of cambridge and am i high ranking leader in two military governments and im a secret agent, and that’s it? No interaction with each other beyond killing? No “crossing idealogical boundaries for the greater good?” I don’t want to fanboy for New Vegas but there, I could cross boundaries and convince people to join their enemies for their own safety and betterment. Preston Garvey is just like “Hey, we can blow up the Blimp if you wanna. Danse is cool, and I know there are kids on board, but I don’t want them breathing down our neck.” Like, motherfucker I’m their Sentinel - no.

The point of the series is “War Never Changes, so Men Must Change.” There’s no change in Fallout 4. There is no seeing the bigger picture and reaching peace. Once the Institute blows up, most factions could probably just go home because the only reason they’d bother to do anything is to kill each other. And that’s deeply boring to me.

Next episode, the minor factions - Gunners, Children of Atom, Raider Gangs, and Super Mutants