#postal carriage

[unknown-art-room1]

I don't think many of you will be interested in this, but if you are, I made a StEx oc! This is Hermes! He's a mail carriage! Mail freight? I couldn't find the exact term.

But it's very on the nose to what he is and what he does, he is the delivery boy! He takes packages and letters all over because that's what he loves, it's his hyperfixation. He's so hyperfixated that he will carry the supplies to write letters, or wrap up a package on him at all time. You need tape? He's got it! A stamp or two? Here you go! Paper for something? Plenty of it!

What can he do? Well apart from carrying everyone's packages, I imagine he could store a lot of stuff inside himself almost like the Tardis. Plus, like his name sake, he's really fast. As a joke, I like to imagine he's faster then then engines but not interested in racing himself. But, he does like to watch to see who is the fastest, cause he wants to couple up with the fastest! The faster the engine, the faster Hermes can make his deliveries.

I wouldn't recommend giving him sugar or caffeine... He's hyper enough as it is, don't want to make it worse. He Is also always fidgeting, if he can't roll about he's trying to do something crafty with his hands. Way too much energy he needs to burn off.

Finally his relationship with the others:

For the most part, he hangs out with the other Freights since that's basically his family he works with. Especially CB, those two are basically brothers with how similar they look.

The Rockies and Dustin don't seem to mind him, though Flattop does try to keep throwing bricks at him... Thankfully he misses.

Slick, Lumber, Porter and Hydra are at least chill with him, I think they use him most for long distance calls with other Freights in other yards.

Both Momma and Poppa find him a handful with his endless energy, but they also find it useful. If he doesn't have much work to do for post that day, he is very willing to help do any little job given.

With the Coaches, I would imagine he is treat much nicer than the other Freights since humans work with him more. They do remind him not to be dozy and be polite, but they love him since he is the one who brings them their packages to keep their carriages up to date.

The Components... It's a bit of a love and hate relationship. Despite Hermes being hyper, he is just the delivery guy, he doesn't get in their way. Like the coaches, they like that he brings the packages. Which brings us onto the hate part... The coaches I imagine live closer to the Freights, so they are more used to him just speeding along and *popping* out of nowhere. It always gives them a fright... Killerwatt and Krupp like him the least.

Now onto the Racers. Rusty growing up with the Freights, he knows about Hermes and probably enjoys his company, especially if he can get his help with work. Greaseball and Electra on the other hand... I don't think they even know Hermes exists, and if they did, they would be in for a shock.

I can't say how the trucks and the other Racers would get on with him, since I don't much about them. But I hope you enjoyed this little fact file on him!

[postcard-from-the-past]

Carriage in Marseille, Provence region of France

French vintage postcard

[witekspicsoldpostcards]

CRAZY BULL / BUFFALO & OTHER VEHICLES from the past.

PHILIPPINES

MEXICO

ZANZIBAR

SRI LANKA / COLOMBO

INDIA

[monkeyssalad-blog]

Going To The Play postcard by A Ludovici by totallymystified

[tllgrrl]

Grimes 68 by @tllgrrl aka nefertiri jones

Summary: After almost 8 years apart, Michonne finds Rick Grimes, the love of her life and father of their children, and he brings her into the Civic Republic Military. For the time being: 1) She has to pretend to be someone else to avoid being seen as a threat; 2) He has to figure out a plan for the two of them to get out; and 3) They have to try and act like they’re strangers to each other instead of reunited lovers.

(The key word is “try”.)

* * * * *

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

The steel kill sticks striking against the brick wall rang in the parking lot of what was left of a post office.

A former postal service semi that now had protective grills over the windows led the next herd of the dead, or what the CRM called “deltas”— “delts” for short—into the large space on the one side of the harvest wall.

The shuffling hoard was drawn by the noise and flashing lights mounted on the truck.

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

The consignees readied themselves on the other side, and as the delts shambled to open spaces in the wall, each one was met with a blow that drove a sharp, prong-ended spear (“kill stick���) into its skull, followed by a twist of the wrist that destroyed its brain, effectively and finally killing it.

It was a repetitive, bloody, mind-numbing grind, and some said that it was brutal for the workers because it wasn’t easy to completely forget that the delts were once living human beings too.

Grimes had done his time at The Wall. He’d even become a legend with the number of kills he could rack up in a shift.

It was painted in big letters on the side of a nearby building, for all to see:

GRIMES 68.

He was also well-known for the number of attempts he’d made to do something no one else in the City wanted to do: Escape. Wanting to leave the safety and security of the CR so badly that he actually cut off his own shackled hand at the wrist, only to fail again and be brought back to the Wall.

Time and time again an officer in the Civic Republic Military gave him a chance to join up, and he refused each offer, preferring to be at the culling facility, killing the dead and planning his next escape attempt.

Then one day, he accepted the offer. He traded his Consignee jacket for a CRM uniform. Instead of using a kill stick, he got a fancy, deadly prosthetic hand with a retractable blade. He got all kinds of specialized training, all the perks as he rose through the ranks, and he never had to cull delts again.

But now, after having been gone for years, there he was. Back at the Wall. Watching.

Watching her.

The new consignee.

The dark-skinned Black woman with her hair cut short on one side of her head, exposing a beautiful profile; and locs cascading down just past her shoulder in the back and on the other side of her face .

The woman who, after her on-boarding interview, was designated a Type “B”, seeking safety, willing to work, and keeping to herself, but had the carriage and demeanour of an “A” who was always observing, was more than capable of defending herself, and being a provider of safety. A leader.

Word soon got around among the Consignees that the ex-consignee/now military officer known as “the famous Rick Grimes” had not only survived a chopper crash, but he’d started showing up at the harvest wall. Coming back to a place he’d gotten away from years earlier, only to return when a mysterious new consignee was brought into the CRM.

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

“Hey. Look who just pulled up,” said a consignee who had her red hair tied back with, of all things, a bright pink ribbon that was tied in a bow.

“Holy shit! ‘zat Grimes?” another consignee added, tying a bandana on his head, cholo style, then slipping on his face shield. “He doesn’t have to be here any more. What’s up with that?”

“Bethune’s not-so-secret admirer,” snickered the worker to pink bow’s left, stabbing his kill stick into a delt that sagged and dropped. “She doesn’t see him yet. But she knows he’s there. Watch. In 3..2..1.”

Michonne—known to the other consignees as “Dana Bethune” —stationed at the far end of the wall, continued to methodically dispatch delts.

Then she stopped, looked over her shoulder, and found the tall CRM officer. Standing there, at ease, even with his helmet and face guard on, she knew he was watching her.

It seemed like they stood there, the only people at the wall. 5…10…15 minutes. Watching each other. Breathing the same air. At last…

3 seconds later, she turned her head back to the oncoming delts, and went back to work.

Behind her mask, the other consignees couldn’t see the small smile that graced her lips, or hear her whisper “I found you.”

Behind his mask, no one could see the CRM officer smile as he whispered “You found me.”

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

“You see that?” drawled the consignee to pink bow’s right, continuing to spear oncoming delts. “Somethin’s up with those two.”

“I know, right? For the past two weeks, he’s here. Same time every day she’s on shift, just before third break. Look at him lookin’. Even wearin’ the consignee jacket, the mask, an’ her hair all tucked in, it only takes him a second to find her. And a second for her to know he’s here. Like they’re—”

“Might could be that ass is imprinted on his brain!” laughed a big man nearby with a bushy black beard.

“Maybe it’s because she saved his life out there.”

“Peterson said somethin’ about that. It’s true?”

“‘parently so. His chopper went down. Got blown right outta the sky and crashed.”

“You serious?!”

“Word is it was a scrub with some kinda RPG an’ shit,” a consignee added to the story while wiping a splatter of brains and blood off of his face guard.

“Stop lyin’! How’d they even get that? After the Fall, CRM took over most of the bases out there with a quickness.”

“There was military stuff out in the wild even before everything went to shit. All kinds o’ stuff is still out there,” bushy beard opined. “Shouldn’t be a surprise all these years later somebody has a bazooka or some ordinance hidden away. There’s jeeps, even tanks here and there. I lived in one for a couple o’ months before I got found and brought here. CRM scoops ‘em up quick as they can, but—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. So anyway, the scuttlebut’s that Sargent Major Loverboy there, an’ the other troopers jumped out of the wrecked chopper an’ the scrub starts firein’ on ‘em. The ones he could catch, he slit their throats…with a sword.”

“A what?” bandana scoffed, stabbing into what was left of the next delt’s face. “Get outta here with that BS, man!”

“I’m just tellin’ you what I heard! Grimes was about ta get got, when Bethune comes runnin’ outta the woods, grabs one of the dead trooper’s weapons and shoots the scrub!”

“Wow. Maybe that’s why he’s here all the time,” pink bow chuckled. “Hell, I’d be in love with her too.”

“Get in line,” beard snarked. “You really think those two know each other?”

“Know each other?” the woman laughed, stabbed a delt and shook its eyeball off of her kill stick. “I think they’re fuckin’.”

“No way!” bandana exclaimed. “She just got here!”

<<<Good work, Section 5 and 6 Consignees. Bethune and Clifton, please report to post-shift health check before boarding transport.>>>

“Think about it,” pink bow explained. “Grimes is an officer on the inside now and doesn’t need to be at the Harvest Wall any more. Who’d come back to this shit after their 6 years of consignment is up? Now, all of a sudden, he’s back. Out here almost every day. Why?”

She tipped her head toward the driveway and they watched Grimes remove his helmet and turn completely around to watch “why” aka “Dana Bethune” walk past, avoiding his eyes.

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

“Oh, yeah…” pink bow grinned. “They’re fuckin’.”

* * * * *

This bit of nonsense was inspired by The Walking Dead spin-off, The Ones Who Live - Episode 3: “Bye”.

Click HERE for the AO3 version.

Thank you for reading!

[city-of-ladies]

“Esther Manuel was born in Hanau in 1785. In her early twenties, she married an artisan who changed his name from Müller to Grafemus, and they had two children. Her husband was a Christian, but there is no record of Esther’s baptism. Grafemus abandoned his family in 1808, and she heard rumors that he had joined the Russian army. Esther eventually traveled to Berlin to find some charity to support her, and because she was too poor to afford the postal service carriage, she dressed as a man to travel on horseback. 

Once in Berlin she appealed for funds to the Jewish charities, but to no avail. In a patriotic gesture, after Queen Louise died in 1810, Esther changed her name to Louise. She was still very poor, frustrated in her continuing efforts to locate her husband. Eventually, sometime in the fall of 1812, using connections in the Jewish community, Louise went to the king’s son and daughter-in-law, Prince William and Princess Maria, and told them of her desire to join the army. Touched by her predicament and by her passion to fight, they purchased her a horse, a uniform, and a gun, and arranged for her to enter the army, dressed as a man! She was not the only female fighter motivated to take up arms for Prussia. Berliners just then were celebrating the heroism of Leonora Prochazka, a disguised woman soldier who had just died in battle, with popular songs and poetry.

By March 1813, in the first days of the War of Liberation, Louise Grafemus was already in battle, on her horse with rifle in hand, and although she was quickly wounded, she kept on fighting. One day that spring, during a battle, by some astonishing fortune, she chanced to meet her long-lost husband, who was indeed a soldier in the Russian army. In front of all the soldiers, she tore off her uniform and revealed her identity as a woman in disguise, causing a huge sensation. But fate took away what it had just delivered, and Herr Grafemus died the very next day.

Louise then left the army, and wandered to St. Petersburg, where she worked for a Russian nobleman. In time she returned to Berlin, where she spent her days writing appeals to the government to receive a pension as the widow of a fallen soldier. When the king did give her a tiny pension of two thalers a year she became a most modern publicity seeker, finding journalists to tell her story. The owner of a porcelain factory even ordered cups made bearing her image! Her family back in Hanau refused to help her, because they were angry that she had continuously neglected them as well as her two children. Eventually she married a German publisher in Russia and settled in Riga, where she died in 1852, at the age of 67.”

How Jews Became Germans: The History of Conversion and Assimilation in Berlin, Deborah Hertz

[josefavomjaaga]

Bessières' letters from Russia...

... or at least some snippets thereof, translated to the best of DeepL's ability from a sales catalogue (Osenat 15 June 2014). At sale was a collection of letters from Bessières to his family and from his family to him, starting in 1805 (?). Volume III contained the correspondence during the Russian campaign, and there were several quotes in the catalogue that I thought somebody might find interesting:

– Mayence, 12 May [1812] : ‘... Here we are at Mayence, despite heat and dust. The emperor got here a long time before anyone else, because the other carriages had to be repaired en route... We are going to a country where the climate may well be variable at times...’. (volume III, no. 239).

- Dresden, 17 May 1812: ‘... The Emperor and Empress of Austria are expected tomorrow, and everything suggests a few days of Court and festivities. I am very satisfied with all these meetings; the Empress has borne the journey very well. I confess that I feared she might be indisposed. The Emperor is in good health. As for us whose health is of no consequence, we are doing well or badly, depending on whether we are treated well or badly...’. (volume III, n° 240). - Dresden, 26 May [1812]: ‘... The stay in Dresden has been longer than we thought, it is likely that the arrival of the King of Prussia will delay the departure until the end of the week...’. (volume III, n° 241, with autograph apostille signed by the marshal's father-in-law). - Dresden, 28 May [1812]: ‘... This mark of esteem infinitely flattered me on behalf of the Emperor of Austria. Empress Marie-Louise will remain in Dresden for a few more days, after which she will go to Prague where she will stay for some time...’. (volume III, no. 244). - Dresden, 29 May [1812]: ‘... We are leaving today. The emperor has allowed me to spend a few days in my estate while he stays in Thorn [Bessieres had received an endowment in Kruszwica in Poland]...’. (volume III, no. 243)

- Thorn [Toruń, in present-day Poland], 6 June [1812]: ‘... I spent a few days in Crucewice [Kruszwica in present-day Poland]. It is a vast piece of land, as big as a province, and earns nothing... The Emperor leaves this evening for Danzig. I'm not going, I'm going to wait for His Majesty in Osterode. Until we arrive at Conisberg [Königsberg, i.e. Kaliningrad in present-day Russia], there will be gaps in my correspondence, because the couriers do not leave regularly, and the passage of the army has temporarily interrupted the postal service...’. (volume III, no. 246). - Schippenbeil [Powiat Bartoszycki in present-day Poland], 15 June [1812]: ‘I have not written to you since Torhrn [Toruń in present-day Poland]; it would have been difficult for me to send you my letter, because not having accompanied the Emperor to Danzig and Königsberg [Dansk in present-day Poland and Kaliningrad in present-day Russia], I found myself far from the line of the estafettes. I am not to join His Majesty before Insterburg [Cherniakhovsk in present-day Russia] on the 8th...’. (volume III, no. 247).

- Gumbinnen [Goussev in present-day Russia], 19 June [1812]: ‘...Yesterday I rejoined the Emperor. (volume III, no. 251). - Kowno [Kaunas in present-day Lithuania], 24 June [1812]: ‘We crossed the Niemen this morning... I hope that this campaign will soon be over... I do not write to you as often as I would like, the passage of the army temporarily affects communications; we ourselves sometimes remain three or four days without news from Paris...’. (volume III, no. 249) - Wilna [Vilnius in present-day Lithuania], 4 July [1812]: ‘... You complain that I rarely write to you. It is the effect of circumstances; communications are often interrupted because of the march of the troops...’. (volume III, no. 251).

- Wilna [Vilnius], 8 July [1812]: ‘... The enemy is on the other side of the Duina. So far he has done nothing but retreat. You are probably involved in politics in Paris; here we leave politics to the side, and we are very busy looking after our stomachs which, although they are no more difficult than usual, are always afraid of running out of the necessities...’. (Volume III, no. 252). - Gloubokoié, [July 1812]: ‘I'll give you some news of me... Since I left Vilna I have not been able to write to you because no couriers are sent on the road... I'm doing very well. I'm arriving a little tired...’. (Volume III, no. 268). - Witebsk, 1st August [1812]: ‘... Always on the march, and continually on horseback since we left Vilna, I have not been able to give you my news as often as I would have liked. Here we are in Vitebsk. We were hoping for a battle; the Russians have withdrawn again; so, with the exception of a few partial affairs, everything has been manoeuvres and marches...’. (Volume III, No. 255).

- Witebsk, 6 August [1812]: ‘...It is excessively hot here... we have been resting for eight days and we needed it.The enemy is still withdrawing...'.(volume III, no. 256).- Witebsk, 11 August [1812]: ‘... I am going to get on horseback to go to the Nieper where the Emperor has his headquarters. But I will write to you in three days because then we will have arrived, and as long as we are marching we must give up giving and receiving news… Do you know that we are a long way from each other... it is to be hoped that it will not be long; we want it as much as you do, but we have no will but that of the master...’. (Volume III, no. 257). - Smolensk, 24 August [1812]: ‘... I would have liked to write to you at length, but I cannot do so today, I am going to accompany with His Majesty on horseback...’.(volume III, no. 258)

- Dorogobouj, 27 August 1812: ‘We are now well on the way to Moscow... I am writing to you 60 leagues from this capital. It is a long way from here to Paris. I am bearing the fatigue very well and although I sleep in the bivouac most of the time, it does nothing to damage my health... I'm writing to you in a shed, sitting on a bench and on a table, both of which have the feel of the country. I have my horses left and right under the same roof, and I wait until after dinner ... which I find quite idle when I am hungry. His Majesty is very kind to me, and I have been very grateful. When I arrived from Smolensk I had my carriages at the rear. His Majesty sent for me to have lunch and dinner with Him. We were promised that we would be fine in Moscow. It seems to me that this is where this war should end... The army is marching; we will probably leave tonight. Tomorrow I shall be 8 leagues further from you. I hope we make enough of the war and of the journey to keep our children quiet and at rest...'. (volume III, no. 260).

- Gjat, 2 September 1812: ‘... You are ingenious at tormenting yourself. However, you must be reasonable and not believe that cannonballs always fall where no cannon is fired, because I must tell you the truth: I have travelled three hundred places without seeing a single one... It would be very strange if we arrived in Moscow without a battle. We are now only forty places away. I will tell you that everyone wants a battle, because they believe it will end the war...’. (Volume III, no. 261). <On the battlefield of Borodino> - From the bivouac’, 8 September [1812], “at 4 a.m.”: ’Yesterday we had a great battle... I am doing very well. I have often told you that I would make the epitaph of the world. All the Marshals are doing well. My brother [General Bertrand Bessieres] was slightly wounded in the shoulder. He is with me and will be riding in a few days' time. Write to my sister; he has nothing missing, he is doing very well, his wound means nothing although it is a little sore. Everyone around me is well. The Guard has not fought. The Russians got a good thrashing...’. (volume III, n° 262).

<In Moscow> - Moscow, 17 September [1812]: ‘I haven't written to you since we arrived in Moscow... because, with the city in flames, we had to relocate a lot and spend a lot of time on horseback. Imagine Paris in flames; you can't imagine such horror. This governor must be a great villain...’. (Volume III, no. 263).

- Moscow, 20 September 1812: ‘... We are in Moscow but all we have left are ruins, with the exception of a few districts that escaped the flames. These people must be very barbaric to burn down their capital. I've made a decision you'll appreciate. I have almost no carriages left - I've decided to get rid of them. The viceroy [Eugene de Beauharnais, viceroy of Italy] will probably take them. All I have left is a wagon and a chest of silverware. If things work out, you will be paid in Paris. One must know how to do without what is not necessary. I am very dissatisfied with my House. Pillage demoralises everything, and I don't like my people getting involved. If I see the banks of the Rhine again soon, I promise you a clean house...’. (volume III, n° 264).

- Krasnoié, 2 October 1812: ‘I have not written to you since 20 September... because I was detached for a few days with an army corps... I hope to return to Moscow in the next few days and I will compensate you for my silence... The viceroy [Eugene de Beauharnais, viceroy of Italy] has taken some of my equipment and silver. The bills had to be sent to Paris. I think the total is at least forty thousand francs. You must take care to have this money withdrawn... These funds will be used to replace what I have sold... An inventory of the items sold had to be sent. The two carriages were taken for 10,000 ff. each...’. (volume III, no. 265).

- Smolensk, 10 November [1812]: ‘It is a long time since I wrote to you... Since leaving Moscow, i.e. for nearly a month, I have not had the opportunity to do so. We learned of the follies and extravagances of some brigands in Paris [General Malet's conspiracy]. You can imagine what an impression it made on us; we find it quite extraordinary that all this should have happened without anyone knowing about it. Here we are in Smolensk, and soon closer, I hope. The weather is dreadful, snow and ice are the roses of the country...’. (Volume III, no. 266). - Witebsk, 16 December 1812: ‘I am doing very well... I am very much looking forward to embracing you, you, my son and our family...’. (volume III, no. 267).

- Posen [Poznań in present-day Poland], 27 January [1812]: ‘... I beg you... to calm down about me. I am well, and you know very well that I am not of a complexion to suffer from serious illnesses. I saw that the Corps législatif was to be convened on 1 February. I hope that this time I will be able to see the deputies from Prayssac at my leisure [the Marshal's birthplace]... Poor Fajol died in Konisberg [Königsberg, Kaliningrad in present-day Russia]...’. (volume III, no. 269).

- Posen, 29 January 1813: ‘General Lanusse [Pierre dit Robert Lanusse] left yesterday for Paris... he will probably give you a hundred louis that I lent him for his journey because he had only paper and could not get any money. So I'm increasing my little treasure, as you can see, and I'm sure of my guardian. Which doesn't prevent me from sleeping. I didn't want a receipt, as you can well imagine... Prince Eugène, who has a thousand regards for me, wants me to tell you that he sometimes talks to me about you, and that he esteems and loves you very much...’. (volume III, n° 270).

[somefinn-g]

Hiii everyone, just now an idea for a Hermitcraft + Friends train based AU popped into my mind, I wrote down my first thoughts

now I'd like to know if anyone would be interested or not (I'm currently obsessing a bit over trains :'3)

have fun reading

Mumbo

train broken from redstone explosion

lives "temporarily" in one of his passenger wagon that survived

Grian

plagues everyone by being a blind passenger, clawing himself to the roof

never had an own train

"pesky civilian"

kinda lives with mumbo (guy doesn't care too much about the "annoying" nature of Grian, he got other problems)

Scar

Zoo train

often visited by Grian

jokes about Grian living in his train because of his avian features

Bdubs

Doesn't really have an actual train but rather a horse carriage

get yelled at a lot by Joel because of the horses

almost all other hermits find them the cutest

4 person max if you prefer comfort

"smelly" - Joel

Docm77

kinda DB (is the most punctual person, but can never arrive anywhere on time)

somehow the most advanced train but there always something breaking (only when ppl look, when he's alone everything works of course)

gets asked to build a tunnel system a lot - he always refuses

gets asked if his tunnel can be used for the train tracks - he refuses

gets asked if he can help with the tra-

lives very far away from everyone

amphibia train because the tracks to his place aren't in the best shape

has a rail leading to nowhere !?

Postal service (Pearl + Etho)

The post system

Tango helped them out a lot

Etho does the more technical stuff

Pearl does the delivery and take in of the packages

Etho is never really seen around (he works on a secret project ?)

Pearl doesn't own her own transportation vehicle, but loves to use the postal van for her own deeds (nobody minds, take it as a work benefit)

Z. I. T. S. train company (Zedaph, Impulse, Tango, Skizz, Joel, Jimmy, Cub, Cleo)

they got a thing going on

Tango and Impulse want to create the most technical advanced train the world has ever seen

Joel is a train conductor in their main line passenger Train

Jimmy is the engine driver tho he finds his job boring

Lizzie tho not officially hired loves to drive the train (she kicks Jimmy out which he happily obiges) while Joel is working (he sneaks to her into the driver's cabin on his "brakes")

Jimmy is the only one, except for Joel, who knows about Lizzie driving the train (or maybe not)

Jimmy and Joel tolerate somewhat of Grian visiting them at work, Joel says "it's less boring with this idiot here" Jimmy thinks alike (maybe not the idiot part, sometimes he thinks he's more of an idiot, at least his clumsiness makes him feel that way)

Grian definitely didn't blackmail Joel and Jim (no Tim) because he saw Lizzie in the driver's seat (but nobody would probably believe him anyway if he one day decides to tell on Lizzie, his reputation of being an annoying prankster has exceeded him by far)

Joel always yells at bdubs because he's scared of getting the train delayed and he hates horses

Zedaph works as an engine driver too (Lizzie always needs to be careful not to accidentally walk in on him, because he sometimes replaces Jimmy last minute)

Gem, tho not alway very enthusiastically, helps out when someone falls ill (the pay isn't shabby so "why not" she thinks)

Gem owns a small boat on which she sometimes sleeps, she can't live on it completely because it would be to isolating

Gem loves to poke fun of Joel at work because she knows he's been scolded for ruckus behaviour before and now he needs to swallow his pride to the amusement of Gem (Lizzie, tho not in front of others at work, loves to join in on these shenanigans)

Cub is responsible for the train schedule and signals

False

she has the most beautiful steam train on the whole server

for the nostalgic feels she offers tours of the server

false has a wagon refurnished to be her now called home

some other hermits have wagons they live in and false does transport them to other places from time to time

Stress and Iskall

they both own together 3 refurnished wagons

Stress is a true cat lady (we don't know how many cats live with her, the number seems rising every minute)

Iskall isn't very amused by all the fluffy creatures, he implemented the rule that no cat shall enter the shared wagon

Iskalls wagon is a chaos of unfinished projects

Stesses quarters are something every proud mother of 4 legged furr balls could only dream off (Lizzie would definitely want to move in if she ever visited, surely)

False does transport their home to other places when they want a change of scenery (Iskalls excuse for this is always "A new start brings new creative thoughts and a tone of energy" Stress already knows by now that this enthusiasm isn't very long lasting)

i probably rather draw than write if I'll continue with this

[valtionrautatiet-official]

An introduction to VR passenger carriages, part 1: the blue carriages

In our next series of introducing our rolling stock, we will be looking at passenger carriages. I was actually thinking of doing multiple units next, but @hapotonradio requested I do the blue carriages and a lot of people seemed to like the idea so here we go.

A Dr13-hauled train consisting of blue carriages arriving in Turku Harbour, 1995. Falk1, Wikimedia Commons

I can already hear foreigners (and non-rail enthusiast Finns too) going "what the hell are the blue carriages?" Well, the blue carriages were/are the first Finnish steel-bodied passenger carriages, with over 600 units (depending a bit on what you count as being actual blue carriages) of different types built between 1961 and 1986. Today, almost all of them have been retired. Which is a shame, because they were sexy.

The first 15 blue carriages were built by the West German Maschinenfabrik Esslingen, who also designed them, in 1961. This original batch were equipped with different types of boggies, from which the Minden-Deutz boggie was chosen for the eventual mass-produced series built in-house by the VR Pasila workshop starting from 1964 (Valmet also built a small number of carriages).

A combined 1st and 2nd class carriage as built, 1964. At this point they still had steel covering the underbody from the sides. These hems were later removed to better display the arousing technical bits. Olavi Karasjoki, Suomen rautatiemuseo.

President Kekkonen (the bald dude) visiting the above carriage. Olavi Karasjoki, Suomen rautatiemuseo.

The initial batch consisted of ten 2. class carriages (littera Eit), four combined 1. and 2. class coaches (lit. CEit) and one 1. class coach (lit. Cit). As you can maybe figure out, the -t at the end stood for teräs, steel, to distinguish from the old wood-bodied coaches. In addition to the regular first- and second-class coaches, the blue carriages' base design was adopted for restaurant cars (litteras Rbkt, Rt, Rkt and Rk), combined condutor's and luggage cars (lits. Fot, Efit and Efiti), sleepers (CEmt), aggregate cars to use on non-electrified tracks (Eifet), carriages with children's playrooms (ELht), postal carriages (Pot), military transport (Ems), prisoner transport (Nom), special carriages for the president and cabinet (A), and even a one-off disco carriage. The latter in particular fucked severely. All those sweaty bodies having it on inside a train...

Some sources also list the Eil-class local traffic coaches as blue carriages, but since they had some structural differences and were originally painted red rather than blue, I'm going to cover them in a separate entry.

Interior of a 2nd class carriage. My photo

Over the quarter of a century the blue carriages were in production, numerous improvements were made to the original design; most notably, the original top service speed of 120 km/h was increased first to 140 km/h and then to 160 km/h in some units.

By the time the last blue carriages were delivered in 1986, their star was already waning. In 1988, the first new Intercity carriages (in a white and red IC delivery) were delivered, and Intercity trains replaced the blue-carriaged special express (erikoispikajuna) trains as the flagship product. With the arrival of the Intercity carriages, and the double-decker carriages from 1998 onwards, the blue carriages were phased out.

Blue carriages at the Turku depot, an Eifet aggregate car repainted in the Intercity livery in the 1990s and CEmt sleepers (both carriages visible behind the Eifet; the sleepers have asymmetric window arrangements). My photo

Today, the only blue carriages still in use in the iconic original livery as sleepers in night trains to Lapland, and prison transport carriages. Some restaurant cars, aggregate cars and conductor's carriages still exist, but they have been repainted in the newer liveries. Several blue carriages have also been preserved by different instances and they're relatively commonly seen in heritage/museum trains these days.

[best-movie-ever-tournament]

The Wind Rises was described as follow:

A Studio Ghibli film about a designer of war planes used by Japan during WWII and how he struggles with his pacifist beliefs while still being forced to design these machines made for death. The emotions ring true in every frame of this film and the flying sequences are truly unbelievably gorgeous.

La Grande Vadrouille was described as follow: (under read more because boy is it long. nothing triggering though)

1942. A Royal Air Force bomber is shot down over Paris (thinking they're over Calais because their navigator is bad at his job) and three aviators survive to meet out in the Turkish Baths of Paris. Their leader, nicknamed "Big Moustache" (coincidentally? he has a big moustache) lands in a zoo and has the help of a friendly zookeeper who gives him clothes in exchange for the parachute's fabrics, while the other two fall, one on the roof of the Opera Garnier, where he's helped by the whining, "i'm helping you out of moral and patriotic duty but boy do i wish I weren't" music conductor Stanislas Lefort, and the other on a house painter's scaffolding. Said house painter is at that moment repainting a wall belonging to a german military building and the british guy landing on his scaffolding makes a huge pot of paint fall onto a german parade just beneath, signaling his presence and forcing both to run away by the roofs. A woman helps the house painter (Bouvet) and the british guy n°3 escape a german search by pretending to be the wife of Bouvet and to be in the middle of an argument with him, making the germans leave early out of awkwardness, while the british guy is hidden in the elevator shaft. Lefort and Bouvet meet Big Moustache in the turkish bath, convene of a plan, all three run through different means to the station to take a train for the free zone but only british guy n°3 (Peter) and the girl get in it, the others narrowly miss it and steal a postal van. Peter is made a prisonner after reflexively saying "sorry" (in english) to a guy he accidentally walked into in the train, in ear reach of a german officer. However! the german officer takes Peter to Meursault for interrogation, but that's the city he was supposed to find the other two soldiers and the three french lads and girl! After again pretending to be married, Bouvet and the girl escape the vigilance of the nazis, Bouvet declares his love to the girl, Bouvet and Lefort are put in the same double bed because there aren't a lot of rooms left, two german officers are put in the same bed in the only other room, and because it's room 9 and 6 and one of the room's door's number fall, it looks like idk 6 and 6 or 9 and 9, and Bouvet and Lefort, after time in the kitchen, the bathroom, etc, go back to the wrong rooms and end up each sleeping in the same bed as a german officer. "There's only one bed but platonic and better" as someone summed it up. The next day, nuns help the british guys get to the free zone except OBVIOUSLY the nazis get them again after an accidental package swapping. The french guys get arrested too because some rabbits made their guiding dogs stray. All of them, all disguised in various stuff (german soldiers, wine barrels... long story) end up in the same building as Peter (british guy n°3) who notices them and makes a scene about being pushed around by a soldier to attract their attention and make them see each other (the french and british guys not the german ones, he's not a traitor or anything). The next step of action is obvious. Set fire to the building, confuse an interrogation officer to almost a panick attack by giving such contradictory and stupid statements that he can't stand it anymore, run away in a horse drawn carriage and put a plane with no propeller off a cliff in hopes to land on the right (free) side of the valley. And it works. Makes no sense. My favorite movie ever. If it makes it into the bracket I will try to find my favorites scenes in english on youtube to send them as propaganda and it IS a threat.

[leon-swedfinqs]

A Witch’s Letter

Anathema sends out a letter to the duo requesting help only one of them can truly provide.

Aziraphale gets some insight into other sides of his partner he was yet to be exposed to.

Crowley comes up with a compromise.

Read below the cut

Hell or any infernal torture dimension equivalent truly knew no fury like a dedicated Anathema Device. And now here she was, many strange paper trails and shoddy eye witness account later, clutching a parchment and watching as the mail carriage tumbled down the gravel road towards her. Upon seeing her silhouette against the shrubbery, the driver pulled back on the reigns of the feathered yet wingless bird lugging the trolley until it came to a stop before her.

“Madame” he tipped his hat to her before gesturing to her letter, “what’s this? Letter to a boy?”

“I’m not quite sure actually,” Anathema mumbled, recounting the multiple pronouns used to describe who she suspected to be the same person. Regardless, she held out the letter.

“Aw, young love. Reminds me of me and my Maud. I’ll make sure it gets to him in a few days, ma’am” he nodded as he took it from her.

“Actually,” she said as he other hand dug into her dress pocket and retrieved a small burlap pouch, “This needs to be delivered now. As soon as possible. Priority.”

She held out the sack, but the postman made no effort to take it.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t fast track any deliveries over others, even for a bribe. It would go against my oath, see,” he said. Anathema’s grip on the pouch tightened. The hard gold coins felt absolutely worthless in that moment.

Even though she’d normally prided herself on her cool temper, the postman seemed to have noticed a change in her expression. “Oh, I know the rate of snail mail can be frustrating, ma’am. At least we aren’t using giant snails anymore, aye? My old stead, Cepha, she did her time as a dedicated postal worker—lives at home in a happy retirement now. If you’re upset your note won’t get to your love before your anniversary or somethin, I’ll be sure to tell him it was my fault for the delay, alright?”

“It’s not for a partner,” Anathema mumbled, “It’s…it’s for a…a doctor, of sorts. The boy I tutor, he’s very ill. No one can help, this doctor may be my last hope,” her chin fell to her chest, “please, I can double my offer, I just need to get them here as soon as possible. I can get you more money, or I could-“

“Put the coins away, lass,” he said before she heard the trolley creek and two feet hit the ground. Slowly she looked up to find the postman looking at her letter in his hands. The corners of his mouth upturned in a smile, “I’ll do it. I’ll deliver this one, fast as you’ve ever seen. You have my word. In return I need no money, but I will need someone to finish my route for the day. Tomorrow another worker can cover, but today I’m out of luck. Would you-“

“YES!” Anathema gasped before quickly clearing her throat and regaining her composure, “oh, yes yes of course I will. Anything.”

The postman nodded before smiling, “we’ve got a deal then. Pick up and delivery list is in the front compartment, you’ll need to use your own stead to cart around the wares. And once you’re finished, just drop my cart off at the office on 3rd and Stenton in town.” Anathema nodded furiously at each instruction before the postman approached the large creature and pulled himself up onto the saddle. He undid the towing attachment and gave the creature a quick kick to the side. All at once, a bright yellow pair of wings sprouted from either side of its body.

“Give Adam my regards!” The postman called before with another kick, he took off into the sky.

~~~

Aziraphale was stubborn.

When he told crowley he was going to shill out money for a PO Box, crowley summoned the fattest eye roll he could muster. The type of people who used their services typically didn’t seek out specific blokes, just whoever was willing to do their dirty work. Not to mention they wouldn’t want to use the postal system.

Unsurprisingly, they received very few letters. They did occasionally get messages from previous clients or people they’d met on their journeys, that was welcomed. They also received a fair bit of junk mail—a concept Aziraphale didn’t initially understand and almost led him to sending their stash of gold to a ‘prince in need on a small loan.’

Even after Crowley pointed out that having a traceable place where their enemies could link them to could be dangerous, Aziraphale insisted, not out of disagreement but purely out of stubbornness. And now, finally was the day it was all paying off.

With his nose practically sniffing the sun, he placed the letter in front of crowley with a satisfied “hmph!”. Crowley only tilted his glasses down his nose and glances between the parchment and the satisfied cleric.

“What’s got you so pleased with yourself?” Crowley asked as he went back to whatever he was going, probably fiddling with a dagger.

“Take a look at this. You said it was silly, but ohhh it seems like our PO Box was truly useful. Especially because this lass sounds like she’s willing to spend a pretty penny” Aziraphale hummed. Crowley, making a great show of doing so, finally picked up the letter and read over the lines. However, the more he read, the less exasperated he seemed. His pupils moved faster across the page, until finally stopping on the final line.

To whom it may concern,

You do not know me, and I do not know you, but I am requesting your aid.

My name is Anathema Device, if you’ve heard of me it may be due to my family’s prophecies and our affiliation with the high royals. Rest assured, I do not collude with those people. I am an educator, a teacher of sorts. I’ve studied all forms of magic, specifically into ancient, lost, or hidden art forms. Due to my knowledge and vast array of skills, I have recently been hired to tutor this wonderful young boy.

I have heard of you, in passing. Of your wits and skills and ability to fight. Of your magic and intelligence. Tales lost to the gust of winds in the forest.

I have foreseen this day coming. But I did not expect it so soon, and as such I am unprepared. I cannot help him. No one can truly help him.

If I’m right, if what I’ve seen in my future is right, then you’re the only one who can. I understand your hesitance. I am willing to offer anything as compensation, for your help, with the promise of my quiet in return. I beg of you, please.

The zodiacs, the stars, are calling to him, and I cannot help him answer.

Aziraphale looked at him expectantly, waiting for some kind of admission of wrong. However, Crowley’s face looked pale and wordless he stood with the paper, walked over to a trash can, and slipped it in.

“Wh- oh come on now Crowley! Just because you don’t want to admit I proved you wrong that doesn’t mean you can just ignore the young woman!” Aziraphale huffed as he walked over to the can and went to retrieve it. However, Crowley held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s…it’s not that,” he mumbled, “that woman. I just, I don’t want any affiliation with her,” Crowley mumbled, “You were right, whatever, just forget it ever happened.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Aziraphale frowned, though his voice was laced with concern. Crowley was looking off and it didn’t seem like he was planning on meeting any gazes any time soon. When he didn’t answer, Aziraphale pursued his lip before suddenly turning away, walking over to his bag and rummaging before retrieving a scroll. He brought it back over to the rogue.

“Remember when you told me about the stars?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley didn’t move, but usually the lack of a “no” meant “yes” when he was in moods like this. Aziraphale suddenly pulled open the scroll, showing a star map.

“Ever since then, I kept my eye out for any literature about stars I thought you’d like. And I found out all about these beings called ‘Zodiacs!’ They’re affiliated with the stars, I think you’d really enjoy them!” Aziraphale tucked part of the map between his fingers to keep it open while the others gestured to a picture of scales overlayed over one of the constellations, “The woman mentioned them in her letter. I think you’d have a really great time on this mission if you gave it a chance, eh?”

Crowley wordlessly looked over at the star map, his eyes scanning over the constellations and symbols that decorated the page. Aziraphale frowned as he watched Crowley study the paper with sadness in his eyes.

Carefully, Crowley pulled the map from Aziraphale’s grasp and held it up as he leaned against the wall. He rolled the scroll and tucked one of the edges underneath the crook of his arm in order to look more intently at a different section of signs. The two stood in complete silence, the air thick with tension and confusion. Aziraphale was afraid to speak, afraid to scare Crowley off.

“Angel, I…” Crowley sighed as he rolled up the scroll and held it tightly in his hands, the paper squishing under his grip. He still wasn’t making eye contact. “…who do you think she wrote the letter to?”

“Why us, of course,” Aziraphale said firmly. “She so neatly addressed it to our business. Her penmanship is quite lovely.”

“Quite…” Crowley sighed. “Look, Angel, it’s-ngk-fuck…”

He turned, finally making eye contact. “It’s to me. The letter was for me.”

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he replayed the words of the letter in his head.

“What do you mean? The young woman pointedly notes both of our skills in her request.”

“And yet she never says either of our names,” Crowley reminded him. He turned his head to the side, momentarily breaking eye contact. “Frankly I don’t blame her, probably couldn’t pinpoint mine…” he muttered. The tiefling took a moment to take a deep breath and compose himself, before placing the scroll down on the table besides them and making firm eye contact with Aziraphale once more.

“You read about the Zodiacs, correct?” He interrogated.

“Wh-yes, but-“

“What about the magic they pass down? The blessing of stardust to mortals?”

Aziraphale owlishly blinked, staring up at Crowley in confusion. He had a million questions swimming around in his head — yes, while he would consider himself highly educated, Aziraphale is still blind to other forms of magic and the religions that surrounded these abilities. He’s been spending his years catching up on outside history and his own magic sector in order to properly assimilate. But one question couldn’t help but blurt itself out.

“Why, in Ecliel’s great realm, do you know about this?” he asked.

Crowley deflated slightly at the question, and for a moment his eyes appeared glazed and elsewhere. Aziraphale recognized that expression well and carefully dragged over one of the nearby stools before Crowley slumped onto it. He sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees and clasping his fingers.

There were no words that felt right, but Crowley forced words regardless. “For my 6th birthday, I asked my family for a star map. When I was 7, I asked for a sextant. And when I turned 8, they got me an astrolabe.” The tiefling smiled somberly as memories drifted in—many nights he would sneak out of his bedroom through the high up window with notebooks, astrological tools and his blanket. They’d wiggle themselves up onto the roof and settle on a perfectly comfy stop to observe, appreciate, and reach out to the stars. That was, until, one day the stars reached back to him.

“I was observing as I did every night. I would gaze and name every constellation and star system, identify which planets were in view, count all of the shooting stars and asteroids that would briefly pass by. Once I finished documenting what the sky looked like that night, I would lay on the roof and reach out towards the sky, my hands open as if I was waiting to catch something…”

Crowley sighed as he rubbed his right thumb against his left palm in a nervous gesture.

“I would concentrate on the constellation above me, Aries I believe it was that night. I would close my eyes and mentally sing out to it, almost like a prayer I guess,” he laughed. “I felt comfort in the gesture. Like my voice was a call and the stars would comfort me into the follow day. I always thought that those were their answers, that sense of protection I would feel. But, then…”

During their call, Crowley suddenly felt a comforting warmth building up in the palms, growing and pushing like a flower bud through the dirt. Breaking the ritual, they opened their eyes in curiosity, and were met with a bright glow sitting in their hands.

Crowley stared at the light in his hands and gasped. And the star seemed to gasp back.

The tiefling was incredibly careful with the star, though it was out of appreciation rather than fear. Curiously one of his fingers brushed over the surface, only for a smattering of starlight to flicker onto his thumb and scatter into the space around them. It almost looked like dust or flaky snow fluttering off, though once the first few particles dettached, others quickly followed. Crowley worried he may have hurt the star, though the nerves were dashed once the specks began to swirl upwards, moving to twist gently around his horns. When they reached the tips, the stardust shifted and curled to form another loop, similar to the rack of a ram.

The strangest thing? That stardust *tickled* almost. Well, not exactly tickling. Crowley could feel the small particles like warm, comforting pinpricks, but the feeling they transferred brought a light that made him want to giggle.

The stardust came back to settle in his hands, not as condensed as it had once been and still a bit drifting around dreamily or freckled on crowley’s skin like he had accidentally spilled the most beautiful paint in the world.

“A star’s blessing,” Crowley sighed. “A connection that forms deep within your soul, branching between the physical and celestial realm. It allows us to draw power from our rising and manifest it into magic.”

As he spoke, Crowley could feel the dormant warmth pulse beneath his skin, the fire now attached to his being, too stubborn to let go. Over the years he was able to subconsciously tune it out — constantly listening to it cry out would’ve driven him mad.

“I was granted the blessing…this kid, I bet he was too…”

Crowley sighed. He was afraid, honestly. He still had unsaid words sitting on his tongue, his body felt rigid in fear of what the cleric might say or how he would react. He felt vulnerable, exposed and stinging like an open wound. He said too much, he said too much.

Aziraphale said nothing at first, his eyes purely studying Crowley’s form. He’d never seen him like this frankly, and in his mind a lot of connections were being made to previous mysteries about his companion. Although the memory was lovely, it didn’t need to be said that something must’ve gone wrong—the fate this meeting with a star had led to only ended in trauma that crowley had tried to buried, all undone by a single woman’s letter.

Gently and silently, Aziraphale approached and reached out, cupping his hands around Crowley’s nervous interlocked fingers. He held his hands with the same care and reverence Crowley had held his star with. He could feel a slight tremor coming from the rogue’s hands, the fear and memories shimmering around him like dust that was brushed off a shelf.

“The kid is cursed…I…I can’t help him. No-nn-I-no, I won’t help him,” Crowley sputtered. “I’m sorry…”

Aziraphale blinked in surprise as he frowned. This was incredibly uncharacteristic for Crowley, especially since Aziraphale had picked up on his sweet spot for children. Although he would swear up and down he “hated the little brats,” Aziraphale caught crowley sneaking extra food or supplies to street kids, and even agreed to going on a mission for free a few months back when a little girl asked them to help find her dad. Although it may have seemed cruel, Aziraphale knew it wasn’t easy for Crowley.

“I don’t think you should help him,” Aziraphale started. Crowley’s gaze snapped up in surprise, obviously expecting the cleric to try and persuade him the other way. But Aziraphale held firm gaze as he squeezed crowley’s hands gently. “You’ve obviously been hurt by this in the past. I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to get involved, dear. You’re very important, Crowley”

A tear slid down the rogue’s cheek, though before it reached his chin, he suddenly stood up and moved his hands under aziraphale’s arms, instead wrapping around him and grasping him in a desperate embrace. His breath shuddered as he buried himself into Aziraphale, only able to mutter a small “thank you” into the clerics shirt.

Aziraphale remained and embraced him for a long time, every so often whispering another affirmation or grounding crowley with a squeeze. However, his eyes couldn’t help but drift to the nearby table with the discarded letter, words desperate and pleading.

Once Crowley sufficiently calmed down, Aziraphale finally pulled away.

“Dear boy, I’m glad you’re doing what’s best for you. I really do think it’s best that you stay here for this” Aziraphale smiled.

“Yeah…wait, what do you mean ‘this’?”

“Well…I believe I want to go on a solo mission to help this boy.”

Aziraphale held his ground as Crowley bristled and looked at him oddly.

“I might not understand zodiac magic, nor am I able to cast it. But it sounds like it’s a deep spiritual connection. My magic stems from my faith, it was granted to me by my god as a…blessing, I guess would be the right term. This young lady sounds more like an academic, learning element combinations in order to cast magic. While not the same, I believe I can still help.”

Aziraphale was beaming at the concept. Any opportunity to help the cleric would take, that Crowley understood. He has watched him try to cast magic more “traditionally”, like how one would learn at an academy to become a sorcerer, but he greatly fumbled and was barely able to make a spark. His magic seemed to flow with his confidence, emotions, and faith. It was difficult in the beginning to translate those feelings and power into tangible and legit spells.

“It doesn’t sound like a typical quest, Angel,” Crowley frowned. “It feels like more of a, errr…babysitting job. Long term. A sit in.”

“Oh? Think I’ll have to become his nanny, do you?” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“I just mean, this seems like an extended commitment. And I don’t think it’s safe for either of us to-“ to be around zodiacs, including a kid that could explode and become an ultra powerful maniac, “-stay in one place for too long, you know.”

“You have a point,” Aziraphale mumbled before snapping his fingers, “then I’ll host a sort of boot camp! Short term but packed to the brim with lessons!”

Crowley bit his lip. “Err…uh…I have a hunch that the kid is, like, around 10 years old.”

“And how does that change anything?” Aziraphale asked as he tilted his head.

“Weren’t you a bit restless when you were ten? The ‘I’d rather do anything else’ phase?”

“…no? I quite liked my lessons, I wanted to be risen,” he said bluntly.

Crowley blinked as he thought for a moment. The image of a younger Aziraphale, sans halos, chubbier cheeks, and more wild hair, dressed up in a sort of ornate uniform, sitting in a back room frantically trying to memorize passages of scripture before a sermon.

“Right,” Crowley sighed. “Well, normal ten year olds won’t follow a boot camp learning program that easily. They’re like…uh…what’s that thing that’s slippery and hard to catch…”

Crowley trailed off in thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Right! Regardless, it’s unsafe for one of us to leave for a long time. So I’ll just, er…we’ll go together. I pick up some jobs for money, you deal with the kid.”

Aziraphale softly smiled. Of course he couldn’t help but want to help the kid anyway. “Oh Crowley, are you sure?”

Crowley sniffed and curtly nodded. “Yes, correctamundo, 100%—oh I’m not saying that again,” he babbled. “Now shoo! Go write back to that witch woman, I’ll cook some dinner.”

Aziraphale bright smiled as Crowley quickly waved him off before slipping off into the kitchen. As the cleric turned and grabbed the letter to leave to his study, he heard Crowley blurt out in exasperation “Fish!”, making him chuckle. He hoped that dinner would take a while, he’s got a letter to write and some supplies to organize and pack. He has a feeling this was going to be a big one.

[altairtalisman]

Astrid's Bio

"Anytime, anywhere, anything! That's the RPS motto!"

More details on Astrid is under the cut

Name: Astrid Bergström

Age: 408

Height: 161 cm excluding antlers, 186 cm including antlers (9.3 m in true form)

Birthday: 30 Durna 1614 (Wahaqr)

Orientation: Cisgender Bisexual Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Species: Reindeer Spirit

Country of Birth: Noragulkor

RPS Deployment Branch: RPS Tanasaq

Likes: Winter, tea, spinach, sorbet

Dislikes: Foothold traps, loud sounds, feeling like a deadweight, drugs

Hobbies: Swimming, origami, collecting stamps

Personality: A hardworking optimist at heart, she's able to look at the bright side of things most of the time which helps to bring the beings around her some cheer in their lives. She's also helpful as shown when willingly volunteering herself to be deployed to other branches, but is actually careful as she sticks to the paths she knows the best and doesn't actually offer to help if she knows that it's out of her abilities

Style: Wears antler-friendly tops and/or buttoned tops along with skirts and sturdy boots in order to protect her feet from frostbite

Abilities: Possesses enhanced strength, endurance and stamina, as well as able to shapeshift into a large reindeer. Also has extremely hard antlers, fists and feet

In her true form, her strength, endurance and stamina multiply by 50. Her antlers become nigh unbreakable, extremely sharp, and the tips are cold enough to freeze whatever it touches

Background: Raised by the Ratein Postal Service's Noragulkor branch, Astrid dreamt of working as a postal carrier and worked hard to be of service to them. Initially, she was tasked to pull the carriages on instances when the delivery was extremely demanding. However, as hovercrafts slowly made its way into the postal service, Astrid soon found herself a deadweight. Fearing that she would soon be left to fend for herself in the wild at eight years old, Astrid stole a delivery bag and tried to deliver the letters to their respective recipients

However, some of them were international letters and thus, out of Noragulkor. Due to her determination in proving that she wasn't deadweight, she persevered and managed to make it unscathed to Joltaris, where a postal carrier found her and delivered the remaining letters in her place. They then informed the Noragulkian branch about the incident, who decided to let Astrid deliver the local letters

Astrid, delighted that she could remain with the postal service, did her best to deliver the letters. When she turned 18, her body was starting to fail due to old age. She refused to accept this and persevered, ignoring the concerns of her fellow colleagues. To overcome her physical limitations, she turned to Princess' Burden, a drug that allowed users to overcome their physical limits at the cost of their mental health. The dealer who sold her the drug wasn't sure what the side effects were on animals, but went through with it anyways as he knew that Astrid was old and loved her job too much to let death stop her

The drug was proven to be effective for Astrid and she was able to continue delivering letters for 24 more years, with her dependency growing each year. One of her colleagues found out the secret to her 'longevity' and reported her drug addiction to the postal service. Not wanting a drug addict in their service as well as feeling that it was time for Astrid to enjoy whatever little time she had alive, they dismissed the reindeer and led her to the harsher parts of Noragulkor so that she wouldn't be able to come back

Feeling abandoned and suffering from the effects of withdrawal, Astrid could only let the snow envelop her as she waited to die. Drifting off to sleep, she fervently wished that she could continue delivering letters. She didn't expect to open her eyes once again, much less that she had a humanoid appearance. Astrid decided to make her way back to Noragulkor, but got lost due to the heavy blizzards obscuring her vision. As she ploughed through the snow, she could hear whispers calling for her to rest in the soft snow. This solidified her decision to stay off drugs, and persevered even though her body was reacting poorly without the drugs

Eventually she made it out of the blizzard, but she knew that she wasn't in Noragulkor. She spotted a tall man with dirty cream-coloured hair patrolling in the distance, and approached him with the hope that he could direct her back to her home country. What she didn't expect was for him to scowl at her, but to also be called a "blasted trashaneer of a Rynn". Astrid then explained that she was a former postal carrier from Noragulkor, and used to be a reindeer before becoming a humanoid

The man sighed and briefly explained that she had became an animal spirit, soon bringing her to one of the country's post offices for them to deal with her. Upon arriving at the post office, Astrid learnt that she was in Tanasaq and that she had just met Malik, a polar bear spirit who served as an extremely reluctant guide for lost beings. Astrid then asked the Tanasuqi branch if she could help out around the post office, emphasising that she had experience prior to becoming a reindeer spirit. While reluctant as they had heard of a drug-addicted reindeer working at the Noragulkor branch, they decided to give her a chance as they needed all the help they could get

She then spent the next two centuries working in Tanasaq, in which she learnt that reindeer meat was a delicacy in North Steruleang and wanted a bite of her. Astrid then realised that the Noragulkor Postal Service treated her well during her service, and appreciated how blessed she actually was working at Noragulkor's branch even though they left her to die at the end

In Vierum 1897, the Tanasaqi branch was informed that the Dakröhese branch needed more postal carriers due to a shortage. Astrid decided to volunteer herself as no one else wanted to go, and she was given directions to Dakröhi. On her way there, she had to fend off numerous species trying to make a meal out of her and in the process, learnt more about her abilities in her true form. Still, this troubled her as she didn't like being actively hunted, something which she saw as ironic given Ratein's survival of the fittest philosophy

In Alstas 1897, she was caught in a particularly heavy thunderstorm in Xhing'Tien. As she trekked through the mountains, she slipped and injured her ankle. Mingyue, who was secretly tailing the reindeer spirit out of curiosity and worry, approached her and offered to let her rest in her cave as long as Astrid needed. The reindeer spirit asked why did she live in a cave when there was a village at the mountain's base, with the latter explaining that due to her appearance, she was ostracised from everyone around her

After spending a month with Mingyue, partially due to the wet weather and partially due to letting the ankle heal naturally as Mingyue didn't have easy access to medicine, Astrid was back to full health and ready to make her way to Dakröhi. Before leaving, Mingyue begged for Astrid to not tell anyone about her existence, which the latter complied despite not understanding why

Upon arriving at the Dakröhese branch two weeks after she left Xhing'Tien, she was briefly introduced to some of the other workers, including Mira, and was soon swamped with numerous local deliveries. The last letter she had to deliver was to Sarnai, a well-known business owner that controlled the sale of mountain herbs. She made her way towards the mountains, secretly relieved that it wasn't raining then and delivered the letter to Sarnai

Astrid was shocked that Sarnai was about to burn the letter in front of her, and asked if she could wait until the reindeer spirit left. Sarnai, annoyed, threatened to kill her where she stood and to display her antlers somewhere in the office. The postal carrier sighed, lamenting that she had enough of beings trying to kill her for food or as a prize and that there was only so much she could be optimistic about before she hit her limit

When asked who exactly she was, Astrid introduced herself and proceeded to explain that throughout her journey from Tanasaq to Dakröhi, she was hunted for her meat despite her size as a reindeer spirit and all she wanted was to unwind with some tea, not to be threatened by Sarnai

The snow leopard spirit then apologised, expressing empathy for her situation and related to her own experience of being hunted for body parts. Upon accepting the apology, the duo established a friendship, with Astrid leaving Sarnai’s residence with mountain herbs weighing a total of 300 grams. She then returned to the post office, who told her that she could have the rest of the week to rest. It was also during this period that she learnt who Mingyue truly was, as rumours of a rare white snake spirit in the Xhing'Tienese mountains started to surface

Once the Dakröhese branch was able to cope with their deliveries, she was asked if she could help out at the Wulfenzan branch before returning to Tanasaq. Astrid agreed and made her way to Wulfenz, arriving six months later in Trieme 1897. While working in Wulfenz, she bonded with Mira, who was also deployed to help the Wulfenzan branch before returning to Višoleka. While bonding over drinks, the latter informed her of a hunted victims meeting session held in the country, and Astrid decided to attend so as to meet others like her. She then instantly bonded with Radio, a ravel in attendance and expressed surprise when she discovered that Sarnai was also in attendance

The latter indicated that it was due to the contents in the letter she had delivered that brought her to Wulfenz, and proceeded to thank Astrid for preventing her from turning away a potential business opportunity. The reindeer spirit was also surprised to learn that the snow leopard spirit and Radio had met each other a while back, and that she was close enough to offer to buy daem a house at whichever country dae wanted to live in

Eventually, her service to the Wulfenz branch came to an end in 1900. As no other branches needed additional help, she went back to Tanasaq and continued working for them. Currently, she works as an international postal carrier delivering letters from Tanasaq and the extremely dangerous parts of Rynnholmen to the rest of the Ratein, occasionally meeting up with Sarnai and Radio at the Hallowed Hotel's bar as some of her deliveries are to the hotel. Astrid also occasionally encounters Mira during her deliveries and/or the hotel bar, and uses these periods to go on dates with the jellyfish spirit

True Form:

[postcard-from-the-past]

Lapp carriage in the Nordic Museum in Stockholm, Sweden

Swedish vintage postcard

[janjoycesmitz]

Music- rhythm and beauty ❤️⭐

"Night Mail"

by W.H. Auden (Wystan Hugh Auden)

(The rhythm of this poem is reminiscent of a train but it is also very reminiscent of a much earlier poem : " From a Railway Carriage" by R L Stevenson)

see under text of this poem

read by Jeremy Irons 👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽⭐

This is the night mail crossing the Border, Bringing the cheque and the postal order, Letters for the rich, letters for the poor, The shop at the corner, the girl next door. Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb: The gradient’s against her, but she’s on time. Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder Shovelling white steam over her shoulder, Snorting noisily as she passes Silent miles of wind-bent grasses. Birds turn their heads as she approaches, Stare from bushes at her blank-faced coaches. Sheep-dogs cannot turn her course; They slumber on with paws across. In the farm she passes no one wakes, But a jug in a bedroom gently shakes. Dawn freshens, Her climb is done. Down towards Glasgow she descends, Towards the steam tugs yelping down a glade of cranes Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen. All Scotland waits for her: In dark glens, beside pale-green lochs Men long for news. Letters of thanks, letters from banks, Letters of joy from girl and boy, Receipted bills and invitations To inspect new stock or to visit relations, And applications for situations, And timid lovers’ declarations, And gossip, gossip from all the nations, News circumstantial, news financial, Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in, Letters with faces scrawled on the margin, Letters from uncles, cousins, and aunts, Letters to Scotland from the South of France, Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands Written on paper of every hue, The pink, the violet, the white and the blue, The chatty, the catty, the boring, the adoring, The cold and official and the heart’s outpouring, Clever, stupid, short and long, The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong. Thousands are still asleep, Dreaming of terrifying monsters Or of friendly tea beside the band in Cranston’s or Crawford’s: Asleep in working Glasgow, asleep in well-set Edinburgh, Asleep in granite Aberdeen, They continue their dreams, But shall wake soon and hope for letters,

And none will hear the postman’s knock

Without a quickening of the heart,

For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

From a Railway Carriage

by Robert Louis Stevenson

Faster than fairies, faster than witches,

Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;

And charging along like troops in a battle,

All through the meadows the horses and cattle:

All of the sights of the hill and the plain

Fly as thick as driving rain;

And ever again, in the wink of an eye,

Painted stations whistle by.

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,

All by himself and gathering brambles;

Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;

And there is the green for stringing the daisies!

Here is a cart run away in the road

Lumping along with man and load;

And here is a mill and there is a river:

Each a glimpse and gone for ever!

From A Child’s Garden of Verses (1885)

[dicktoo]

from the book of premonitions 10

archery accident

train car derails

car stalls in a railroad crossing

buying stamps and postal employee goes postal

brain eating amoeba

acute anemia

acute ennui

was flying a kite during a derecho

fall off the roof while cleaning gutters

used paint thinner without ventilation

congenital heart defect

ate some bad fish

joy ride on a horse-drawn carriage goes badly

[jmdj]

I was thinking about this.

They abolished the slavery industry.

Trump wants to abolish the US Postal Service

The car industry abolished the horse and carriage industry.

We’ve legislated to abolish the gambling industry

They’re currently banning DJI drones which millions of people in this country use for work (my job for the past ten years) and recreationally

They’re banning tiktok which millions of people make a living off of

There’s plenty of precedent in American history.