#the train that disappeared

[puttingwingsonwords]

Dracula scrambling around the castle pretending to be his own servants is so important in showing that aside from being a super powerful evil vampire-sorcerer he is also a huge loser

[testormblog]

The Train That Disappeared

Railway employees kept an unwritten code of silence.  They didn’t report incidents or confess to anything untoward.  Everybody protected each other’s back and hoped somebody’s lips would remain sealed for their mistakes one day.  They all desperately needed to keep their poorly paid jobs to feed their families.  Engine drivers regularly drove their engines through the points that controlled trains’ right of way on the lines.  Their engines then travelled off the rails.  Men were called out to set the engines back on their lines.  Officers rostered for duty swapped their shifts with others because they were intoxicated.  This even happened at Bethania Station.  Nobody said anything about these episodes nor claimed any overtime for them.

Sometimes though, something occurred where the circumstances couldn’t be quietly ‘swept up’ because of the ramifications.  Then somebody made the problematic decision to escalate the issue to Central Control.  Unfortunately, Central Control usually exacerbated the situation.  Consequently, the fallout fell on seemingly everybody; even those who were innocent participants.

I liked to quietly eavesdrop on my father’s conversations with other men.  These were generally about the Railway and spurious goings-on, so of great interest to me.  I listened to numerous discussions about the train that disappeared between Beenleigh and Bethania.  Whilst I wouldn’t attest to this tale’s facts, I surmised from the snippets, I overheard, that the following happened.

Just south of Beenleigh, a small branch line connected the Beenleigh Rum Distillery to the main line.  Goods trains detoured via the distillery at night to leave behind empty wagons and to collect loaded ones before proceeding to Brisbane with its freight from various sources.  One night, the engine driver and the fireman may have enjoyed an extended break at the distillery and also may have sampled its product whilst the night’s consignment was loaded.

Afterwards, the engine driver and the fireman drove the train towards Bethania but stopped it midway on the long bridge at Holmview, the same one I had been caught on.  Their manoeuvre isolated the guard at the train’s rear from themselves.  With the train parked on the track, the guard couldn’t hop down from his carriage nor walk along the sleepers to the steam engine at the front.  Neither was it safe in the darkness for him to hike the few kilometres back to the prior station to obtain assistance.  He could do nothing, except perhaps have a snooze in his chilly carriage whilst the others kept warm with the engine’s embers and their booze.

When the train had departed Beenleigh, its station master had notified his counterpart at Bethania by a code ring of two bells on the dedicated telegram line between the stations.  This advised the train had departed and could be expected to arrive in the specified time for the distance.  Alas, this train didn’t arrive at Bethania on time but much later.  Once the engine driver and the fireman had finished the quantum of rum, they had souvenired from the distillery, they refired the steam engine and continued the train’s journey to Bethania.

On its arrival, the Station Master, in consultation with the guard, assessed the engine driver’s and the fireman’s condition, and wouldn’t permit them to proceed with the train.  He walked up the road to the first Railway employee’s house, that being ours.  Like most people, we didn’t have a telephone.  He knocked on our front door to awaken my father.  He wanted Dad to take charge of the train and the two miscreants.  This meant Dad was to oversee the train’s journey into Brisbane.  After assessing the situation, Dad agreed the driver and fireman weren’t in a fit state to operate the engine.  However, he disagreed with the plan.  He wasn’t fit to drive or fire the engine either.  He didn’t have the necessary tickets.  This was a serious situation given the gravity of a loaded train being significantly delayed.

To cover their backsides, the Station Master called a doctor from Beenleigh to drive out to examine the men.  Time was ticking by.  The doctor arrived and checked the men over but failed to make any diagnosis for either of them, never mind one supporting the general observation of their drunkenness.  He and the engine driver belonged to one religious flock whereas Dad and the Station Master were of another.

This left the Station Master and the guard with a difficult predicament.  If the train didn’t leave, the early morning trains on the Brisbane Beenleigh line couldn’t run through Bethania.  Eventually, they found another engine driver and fireman to take control of the train.

Subsequently, an official enquiry was held into the events that transpired.  Even though Dad was an innocent bystander to the shenanigans and acted honestly and responsibly in terms of his abilities, he scored a hefty fine.  Despite him being an unskilled labourer, the Railway contended he should have taken control of the train and the miscreants to enable it and them to continue the journey to Brisbane unhindered.  Without an accurate diagnosis and blood test from the doctor, he didn’t have a defence.  Neither could he afford to pay for one.  I didn’t hear what consequences the other men suffered though the engine driver continued to drive engines.

I suspected Dad was set up as the scapegoat.  Whatever action he chose that night, he was boiled in the stew.  Unfortunately, the others didn’t stump up his fine.  The Railway docked this from his wages until it was paid.  At least, it didn’t dismiss him.  Railway men, they foolishly stuck together like glue.

[backpackingspace]

Okay so with the line "the olive tree where we first met" we have two equal hilarious options.

When penelope was sassily like oh I'll marry you if you make a living bed out of this tree right here! Cue penelope stumbling over odysseus very very carefully digging up the tree "because how else is he going to get it to itacha we can't have a wedding bed out in the open in sparta duh"

Or

2. Penelope, knowing that Helen's suitors would soon be arriving to take over her home for a while. Snuck out and went on her own wacky shenanigan filled journey where she scoped out all the major players. Odysseus caught her spying in an olive tree. And when she got back she told Helen she had dibs on the cutie from itacha.

[crnl-chicken-tots]

[timblrdrake]

i love lying on the internet

i used to use “i’m not press trained </3” as an excuse for everything and no one called me out for it?? guys im literally a CEO not to mention Janet Drake’s son im not incompetent im just an asshole

[transhawks]

this fandom doesn't get dabi tbh. Like outside of the aesthetic, if given half the chance, he would have become a workaholic to rival his dad. Like he'd complain about it more than Enji tho, but he'd still be out there working his ass off.

[andoutofharm]

[piratekane]

A post-ep piece from ep. 7 of Agatha All Along, Death's Hand In Mine (aired October 23, 2024) below the cut!

Death comes for Lilia, softened at the edges.

No, not Death. Rio. Rio, face rounded in sympathy, so unlike the vision in the tunnels. She smiles and it’s warm, caring. In all the dreams Lilia had about Death, it was never a face she recognized, never a face so open and kind. But as reality leaks away, she thinks: maybe this is a face I’ve seen before. Maybe I’ve been seeing this face my whole life.

“Did you take Alice?”

Alice. Her coven sister. Protector. The Knight of Wands. Lilia hopes she was held, helped. And Rio, that softness still etched across her face, nods silently. Lilia exhales, some of the pressure in her chest easing away.

“And Jen? Teen?” She pauses. “Agatha?”

She doesn’t imagine the slight flinch on Rio’s face. She can see now. Everything. All threads. All motes in the air. All flecks of want in Death’s eyes.

“They will face the road,” Rio finally says. “I will be there if they are ready.”

Lilia hopes—if, if they fail, if the road swallows them whole—that Death is kind to them. That Death comes in a soft green shawl like the one she’s wearing now, a flower in her hand and a warmth in her eyes. They deserve that. Jen. Teen. Even Agatha deserves a moment where the world stops pushing at her. If only she would stop pushing back.

But they are her coven. They are her family. She sacrificed for them, gave them a way forward and stayed behind to seal the path from the danger she could control. And she would do it again. It’s probably why Death comes to her as Rio, a kindness for a kindness. The choice she was always destined to make. All roads led to this Road, led to these people, and for the first time in centuries, she had something worth losing.

They are her coven. Death will not take that away from her.

“I’m ready.” She declares it with a strength that she thinks has always been there, just dampened for so long.

Rio smiles, a slight sharpness in the corners before it’s gone, and offers her hand. “Then let’s walk, witch.”

Witch. She loves the sound of that.

Lilia takes her hand and the world shifts into muted colors that stretch as far as she can see. At the end, something sparkles. She knows that place, the face at the end of the tunnel. Hope blooms in her chest as the picture takes shape. She feels herself running, body shifting as she goes, and it becomes easier. The air tastes sweeter. The sun is shining.

Rio’s hand slips from hers and she feels weightless, but tethered to a moment in time—a first in a long while.

She doesn’t hear the goodbye. Death whispers it still.

[notbecauseofvictories]

I know my experience is not universal, but I biked 5+ miles to do my errands today and I genuinely think we'd be much happier as a human collective if we increased residential density and switched to largely alternative modes of transportation.

[arielluva]

healed by the power of lesbians. goodnight

[newvegascowboy]

Ok so i personally believe that interstate trade in the wasteland is alive and well, especially along the coasts, but there HAS to be some like. Linguistic weirdness happening in the wasteland. With radio communication, I'm sure there's a "standard english" that prevents a lot of people from getting tooooo granular of a dialect, but it doesn't take that long for languages to change, really. Where are the pidgin languages? The new expressions? The funny sayings? The things that no vault dweller would understand because they come from an entirely different culture?

You'd probably have a lot of languages that are related, like the romance languages, or even Esperanto, where someone can parse the meaning even if they aren't a native speaker. Lots of English/Spanish variants of course, but can you imagine giving the Appalachian dialect 200 years to marinate? Cajun? Minnesotan?? The people in the Commonwealth should be speaking like theyre from another planet. The sole survivor is talking like a Jane Austen novel, unable to comprehend the words a Bostonian mind has had 200 years to come up with.

[saydada]

dnd au ( insp by @alkalinefrog !)

i tried to make hiccup less ooc in this clip ksdhsj

[lake-cosay]

i always get emotional over this bc like. jesse has to know that he is, by far, physically the weakest person there and the least capable of protecting lake, yet he does it anyways.

jesse's way of protectin his loved ones is by putting himself in between them and the threat.

he'd rather get hurt than let them get hurt. and it doesnt read as self-sacrificial to me, it feels like he does it bc he doesnt want to start a fight, but his priority is making sure his loved ones are safe

even if he knows he's not particularly capable to protecting, he's going to try. he's not confrontational but he is so, so protective.

[timaeustestified-official]

The people demand true Dirk x Jake yaoi. Give the people what they need, Dirk.

Is this what you want, you lunatic?

I feel like this is a good time to remind everyone that the art on this blog is satire. Levels of satire that you can’t comprehend. Unless you’re me, of course, in which case it comes second nature.

[wandixx]

Ghost of fries and hero of cookies final part

All work words count: 14 643 Words in this part: 244 Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway This part summary: What happened to Dani (author needs a certificate for being little shit) Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part, Previous part

Dani packed her stuff as soon as she got back from patrol. While doing it, she called Tuck and Sam to coordinate travel plan with them and to make sure she heard where and when correctly. Danny’s birthday were coming, an alien’s autograph would be a good present. Unfortunately she wouldn’t have time to get any of his merch on her way so the sky map she printed in Gotham’s Public Library would have to make it. Because of Sam’s demand she stocked herself in protein bars, other high calorie snacks and tons of drinks. Guy at the register looked disturbed but correctly guessed it wasn’t his business. Thanks for physics meets magic mess that made her backpack lighter. It worked like thermos in a way, though she didn’t even try to understand it.

This flight was going to be challenge not only to her speed but also, mostly, her stamina.

Ancients let her survive.

*

Turns out, phones couldn’t survive falling from over a hundred feet at around 60 miles per hour. Well she had all important numbers (Jazz, Val, Tuck, Sam non- and yes-emergency Danny) on paper phased inside her hip. From Sam’s money she could buy one in Los Angeles and explain the change of number then. She would have to come up with an excuse though.

She wasn’t going to admit she got distracted and bumped into a bunch of pigeons, got startled and dropped her phone like a silly child.

********

I know I could and should post it with previous part but I wanted to build the tension.

Batfam: We will finally meet our almost niece! Dani: Oh, look, plot convienient reason to leave city fast! Dani was setting up most intense and insane work-out playlist known to mankind to get her through her journey when she bumped with these pigeons face first

Starting notes are longer than this part.

Shit, I really should put it with previous part but the tension and potential for drama aaaa I couldn't resist

and @audhumla-sailor is an enabler

Tag list: @pickleking8 @mynameisnotlaura

[ratwithhands]

Pulled your and your bestie's mom ✨

Of all things I was listening to Oops! by Yung Gravy and I was like "what if I drew this with Emmet". I'm too busy to do a rough animatic but this is him with both player moms.