#thomas engine

[magicapunguart]

Cute potato thomas

[bruhstation]

you’re just like the rest of them

[brilokuloj]

recreation of a dream I had where my friend sent me this video and then apologized for not watching it first because it "wasn't funny"

[thekalpar]

God's will is what it is.

[captainhancock727]

Thomas Engine - Deep In Your Love (feat. Hayes)

[nartothelar]

guys do you want to see the coolest thing ever

ehehe vintage 2000 thomas and friends mini moving keychain!!!

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

 Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid. 

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving. 

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously. 

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride. 

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible. 

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer. 

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Part 5

Masterpost

[magp1e-starl1ght]

I had a very weird dream this morning about a webcomic about an older goth guy and his 2 adoptive “ant girl” daughters.

The goth dude kinda looked like if you combined young Trent Reznor and young Peter Murphy. The ant girls were kinda like cat girls but with ants instead of cats, like they looked mostly human but with ant features. They were about the size of the average teenage human. I remember one of the ant girls was like a red ant with long red hair and whatnot, and the other was a black ant with shorter black hair. I think the red girl had some kind of backstory about how she was a parasitic ant larvae that was sent to infiltrate a different species ant colony (???) but failed and got abandoned and that’s how goth guy adopted her. Idk about the other girl’s backstory or the goth guy’s backstory or what any of their names were.

The comic was REALLY popular online, esp tumblr and Reddit for some reason. On Reddit the red girl was more popular but on tumblr people were REALLY obsessed with the goth guy, I think my subconscious invented a new tumblr sexyman.

[arkethamz]

not cringetober bc i was busy today

but i did get a doodle done for 40 years of thomas the tank engine <3

[dianapocalypse]

generative AI is the future

[crankybugs]

Happy Pride Skarloey Railway

[magicapunguart]

My Thomas humanized au ✌️

[hazelcongestion]

pov thomas is giving you his business card

[bruciemilf]

bruce's publicist just gets so fed up with him that the next time he causes a scandal and he's just like "my bad sorry" they just go "kys"

I imagine Bruce’s publicist as this tiny old lady who reeks of cigarettes, laughs like a fire alarm, and can bury you 10 feet under with a single look. She’s been managing the Waynes before Bruce got his first diaper. She has this shit handled. But GOOD LORD.

Bruce’s primary excuse is “ok but my dad did worse tho” (which is very true. Thomas gave her so many gray hairs she could audition for Santa Claus)

and her go to response is, “follow his exemple. In the grave”. Still. She loves the kid. Wished he didn’t get into tussles with every single socialite who’s being a cunt to his children, but, she loves him.

The real PR nightmare of the family?

Dick “No, I WILL swing on the chandelier and smoke weed in the White House” Grayson

[offbeat03]

A silly and cute redraw!!

Unedited ver.

[gadgetini]

so alive