#seaboard air line

[collinthenychudson]

Here's something classic and colorful, an EMD E4 in the Seaboard Air Line's "Citrus" Scheme.

Reference Image: https://www.american-rails.com/images/30058u225ki2582409282068.jpg

Drawing C) Me

[zponds]

What-If: American Railroads — Maps

I deeply apologize for not coming back to this alternate railroad history topic in over a year, I’ve had a lot of other things to do and i merely scratched the surface of this railroad history topic. and therefore, I’ve thought long and hard about this whole thing.

Aside from that apology, i thought to myself since I have Procreate, why not make maps of the 20 American railroads in my alternate history about said American railroads? And that’s what I did. Each map below shows the 20 railroads after they absorbed the smaller railroads as well as some of them expanding their networks in the 1980s wherever possible.

New York Central — this map shows the New York Central after the road to the future absorbed Boston & Maine, New Haven , Delaware & Hudson, Rutland Railroad, Bangor & Aroostook, Central Vermont And Maine Central railroads.

2. Pennsylvania Railroad — This map shows the size of the Pennsylvania Railroad after it absorbed Lehigh New England, Reading Lines/Railroad, Richmond, Fredericksburg and Potomac, Lehigh Valley, Lehigh and Hudson River, Central Railroad of New Jersey, Grand Trunk Western and Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines railroads.

3. Chesapeake & Ohio — This map shows the Chesapeake & Ohio after it acquired the Erie Railroad, Lackawanna Railroad and New York, Ontario & Western Railway, plus the northern section of the Louisville & Nashville Railroad throughout the 50s and 60s, as well as expanding its network in the 80s.

4. Baltimore & Ohio — This map shows how big the Baltimore & Ohio got after America’s first railroad absorbed Pittsburgh and Lake Erie, Western Maryland, Wabash, Ann Arbor, Virginian railroads.

5. Union Pacific — Here, this is how big Union Pacific got after absorbing the Western Pacific and Rio Grande railroads, as well as adding more mainlines in the eighties.

6. Southern Pacific — This map shows the Southern Pacific after adding more mainlines to its network in the eighties.

7. Northern Pacific — For this map, it shows how big the Northern Pacific Railway got after absorbing the Chicago Great Western and Duluth, Missabe and Iron Range railroads, as well as adding more mainlines to its network in the eighties.

8. Milwaukee Road — This map shows how big the Milwaukee Road got after the “Route of the Hiawatha” expanded its network by widening its existing mainlines and adding more mainlines (wherever possible) and expanding to northeastern Minnesota throughout the eighties.

9. Burlington Route — This map shows the Burlington Route after it absorbed the Kansas City Southern in the early 1960s and later expanded its network in the eighties.

10. Chicago & NorthWestern — This map shows the size of Union Pacific’s ancient partner; the Chicago & NorthWestern, after it absorbed the Wisconsin Central and the Minneapolis and St. Louis railroads in the 60s plus expanding its network in the 80s.

11. Illinois Central — This network map shows how big the Illinois Central got after acquiring the Cotton Bell Route in the 60s plus expanding its network in the 80s.

12. Gulf Mobile & Ohio — This map shows the size of the arch rival of the Illinois Central; the Gulf Mobile & Ohio, after it acquired the Chicago & Eastern Illinois and Missorui-Kansas-Texas railroads

13. Norfolk & Western — Here, the map of the Norfolk & Western shows how big the N&W got after absorbing Nickel Plate Road and the (original) Norfolk Southern in throughout the 50s and 60s.

14. Southern Railway — This map of the Southern Railway shows how big the Southern got after absorbing Nashville, Chattanooga & St. Louis railroad and the central section of the Louisville & Nashville railroad in the 50s and 60s, as well as expanding its network in the 80s.

15. Seaboard Air Line — here, the Seaboard Air Line is shown how big it got after acquiring the Central of Georgia and West Point Route railroads plus the southern section of the Louisville & Nashville Railroad.

16. Atlantic Coast Line — This map shows how big Atlantic Coast Line after it absorbed Clinchfield Railroad, Oneida and Western and Florida East Coast railroads throughout the late 50s to late 60s.

17. Santa Fe — This map shows the Santa Fe Railway after it absorbed half of the Frisco railroad in the early sixties and later expanded its network in the eighties.

18. Missouri Pacific — This map shows the size of the Missouri Pacific after it absorbed the other half of the Frisco railroad and the Texas & Pacific Railroad in the early to late sixties.

19. Great Northern — This map shows the size that Great northern Railway underwent after absorbing the Spokane Portland and Seattle Railway and adding more mainlines.

20. Rock Island — This map right here shows how big the Chicago Rock island and Pacific Railroad, or the Rock Island Railroad for short, has gotten after absorbing the Colorado and Southern Railroad and adding more mainlines and connecting to other mainlines order Rock Island ownership.

And with that, these maps show how big the railroads above have gotten. And since I’ve just returned to this topic, I’ll dig deeper into my thoughts and ideas about how things would go in this alternate timeline, which includes more posts talking about the history and posts talking about the locomotives and liveries on said locomotives, so stay tuned for all that.

[aryburn-kc]

Freight train about to leave the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad yard for the West Coast

March 1943. Argentine, Kansas. "Freight train about to leave the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad yard for the West Coast." Medium-format nitrate negative by Jack Delano for the Office of War Information.

[stone-cold-groove]

Frontiers to spare. Seaboard Air Line Railway ad - 1945.

[rodpower78]

Seaboard Air Lines passenger train at the Hialeah Market in Miami, Florida during the 1960s. Warren Calloway photo.

[arcane-vagabond]

No Rest for the Wicked: Prologue

“There’s no rest for me in this world. Perhaps the next.” - Tommy Shelby, Peaky Blinders.

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: You tried to steer clear of the north side of the city—something ingrained in you by your late mother. Nothing good ever happened there. Your younger brother, however, seemed hell bent on finding his place amongst the Doctors—a no good group of men that ruled most of the eastern seaboard with an iron fist. It just so happens that you're put in the path of one of the handsome leaders on one fateful day, but is he willing to let you go? Or are you his for the taking? (1930s!Mafia!AU)

Word Count: 1,475

Content Warning: Mentions of war, Prohibition, Crime, Speakeasies, Alcohol, Alcoholism, Depression, Suicide Ideation, Blood, Amputation, Robby being Robby, Jack being Jack. I think that pretty much covers it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Main Masterlist || Jack Abbot Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Jack hadn’t always been a criminal. In fact, he loathed the very word. Sixteen years ago, prohibition passed through Congress, ratified two years later. The taps ran dry at the various clubs, but the opportunities were plentiful for those looking to cash in on the opportunities.

Times were tough even then, the country having just won a war to end all wars, and Jack had been on the front lines, tending to the wounded until he had needed one himself. The searing pain was still fresh in his mind fifteen years later—the scarlet color of his own blood that soaked into the earth beneath him as he reached for the limb that was no longer there. He had prayed for a bottle to sink into, the alcohol to burn down his throat and help him forget all that he had now lost. Then his country had taken that escape from him and he was at the mercy of his own thoughts—the days dragging on as he watched the world move without him.

It had been Robby that had gotten him the prosthetic, and to this day he didn’t know how he managed it. His best friend had appeared at his small apartment one day, the contraption in hand and a beaming grin on his face as he leaned against the doorjamb.

“What do you want?” Jack had asked, eyeing the other man suspiciously. Robby shrugged his shoulders with a mischievous smirk before pushing off from the doorway.

“Thought I’d come by and pay you a visit,” he hummed, pushing his way in. Jack snorted, shutting the door behind him and watched as Robby plopped down in one of the armchairs, dust shooting into the air around him.

“Don’t bullshit me, Robinavitch” Jack warned, though there was no real heat to it. He stumbled slightly as he worked his way into the other armchair, grunting as he finally found purchase. “You know I don’t like a bullshitter, and it’s hard to hide that thing.”

He gestured to the prosthetic, finally addressing the elephant in the room. Robby lifted the prosthetic with faux shock.

“What, this old thing?” he smirked. “Just found it lyin’ around. Don’t suppose you’d want to take it off my hands.”

“Where’d you get it?” Jack asked, eyeing it warily.

“Not important.”

“You steal it?”

“Do you want the damn thing or not?”

Jack sighed, leaning back in the chair as he gripped the arms tightly. He eyed Robby for another moment before wordlessly reaching out. His best friend grinned and handed it over, watching as the other strapped it on. It took him a moment to figure out how it worked, but he finally managed to strap it on.

“How’s it feel?” Robby asked, watching with a steady gaze. Jack shot him a look, not answering as he settled back in his chair.

“Why else are you here?”

“A thank you is customary, I think,” Robby teased, smile fading as Jack continued to stare at him. He sniffed, leaning back in his own chair before casting a look at the stern man.

“Got a proposition if you’re interested,” he continued. “Old pal of mine is out in the sticks making up his own giggle water and needs a place to dump it. Just so happens, I’ve got a place on the north side of town that would be perfect to open up a drum.”

“A speakeasy?” Jack hummed, a brow arching in intrigue. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a perfect idea,” Robby countered, an easy grin on his face. “The connections we got? It’ll be perfect. We’ll spruce up the place, of course—make it nice and pretty for the dames, and there’ll be plenty of entertainment for the fellas. What do you say?”

Jack mulled over his best friend’s words, chewing on the inside of his cheek before letting out a sigh.

“I dunno,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m tired, Robby.”

“Jack, listen to me,” Robby urged, leaning forward to look the wary man in the eyes. “Aren’t you tired of being tired? Don’t you want to feel alive again? This is how you can do it, pal. You and me—owners of the hottest place in town. We’ll make a killing, and you’ll be king of the castle.”

Jack shot him a look, and Robby chuckled.

“With me, of course.”

Jack sighed once more, a grimace playing on his lips as he considered the other man. It was a tempting proposal—to feel alive again. He almost forgot what it felt like. He often found himself on the roof of his building, pondering the pedestrians below, wondering how quickly he would go. And then the sun would rise, the warmth curling around him just as it did every day, and he would begrudgingly make his way back down the stairs and into his apartment.

“Alright,” he nodded. “What do you want from me?

It wasn’t long before the pair opened up their secret club, their reputations growing bigger as their appetites for the finer things grew as well. The pair ran a tight ship, bringing younger men into their fold as the years went on and the need for more enforcement grew. Their group earned the moniker “the Doctors,” which had originally started when one of the younger men overheard Robby teasingly refer to Jack as “Doc.” Jack had scowled, of course, but let the name slide, and before he was even aware, the name had expanded, and the younger members boasted about being one of the “city doctors.”

“It’s a stupid name,” Jack had grumbled one evening as Robby sat in one of the chairs opposite the great oak desk. Over a decade had passed now, and both men’s hair were more grey than anything. The lines on their face spoke to the many years of hard earned respect in their city, the brutality by which they gained it. They traded a speakeasy for an actual club—The Pitt they decided to call it. Robby said it was a nod to it being the very heart of the city, the pit of the fruit. Jack had snorted and said it was the pit of hell.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Robby smirked, leaning back in the leather armchair. “But it commands respect, apparently, and the boys use it with pride.”

“It’s still stupid.”

Robby sighed, the smirk slipping from his lips as he watched Jack. “How long you been working on those books?”

“Long enough,” was Jack’s curt reply.

“You should go home,” Robby told him, scratching at the beard forming on his chin. “Go find a girl downstairs to go with you. You’re too tense, and it looks like you could use the rest.”

“Not interested.”

“Come on,” Robby goaded. “Maybe you’ll find a nice girl and settle down finally.”

“What part of ‘not interested’ is not clicking for you?” Jack griped, shooting a half-hearted glare at the other man.

“The part where you said ‘not interested,’” snickered Robby. Jack set his pen down, fixing his full attention on him.

“If I take a girl home with me, will you shut up and leave me alone?” he asked. Robby grinned, shaking his head.

“Probably not.”

Jack rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he assessed the other man. “Why don’t you go downstairs and find yourself a girl, hm? Leave me in peace.”

“I would if I were interested in any of them,” Robby replied with a shrug.

“You’ve been interested in a few before,” Jack pointed out, earning a snort.

“Yeah, and none of them have panned out, have they?”

“So what makes you think I’ll find anything worthwhile down there?” Jack countered. Robby arched a brow at him.

“I think you’d be surprised what’s out there if you’d let yourself look,” Robby threw back, standing with a grunt. Jack watched him silently, thoughts hidden behind his usual stony exterior. Robby sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Just,” he paused, thinking over his words before shaking his head and heading for the door. “Just think on it, alright?”

Jack didn’t say anything in return, only moving once the door closed with a click. He tilted his head back to lean against the back of the chair with a sigh. He wasn’t interested in settling down—not when he had an empire to run. He ruled the eastern seaboard with an iron fist, and it would stay that way until his last breath. He wasn’t concerned about the frivolity of dating. No, if he did settle down, he needed someone by his side who understood what they were getting into. Someone who could balance him out in the right ways while still commanding the same respect that he did.

And he was certain that person didn’t even exist.

A/N: Typed this up to feel something again. Idk, are we back? Let's see if the Pitt fandom really is better than the TGM fandom lol

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[peachyjinx]

LYHOM: Ch 1: The Menace

Summary: Now that summer is coming to an end, Loki returns to campus in preparation for the new school year. Charlotte meets Professor Laufeyson for the first time. W/C 6k

Warnings: TW for anyone who's been in the weeds working in a restaurant 😂

Masterlist / Ao3

Five Years Ago.

Loki stared out of the window of Stark tower as rain pelted and dripped down the sides of the glass building. Not twenty four hours ago, his silhouette had dominated the skyline, a commander before his chitauri legion, every muscle coiled with purpose and determination. Determination to make Thor suffer. Determination to conquer and rule. This planet was to be his kingdom. Now it would be his prison.

Yes, his fate could’ve been worse, but that didn’t stop the dread inside. The resentment that had simmered about Thor, that unshakable conviction of superiority over the mortals of Earth, now seemed like the remnants of a dream. His mind drifted in a haze of internal conflict, the sharp edges dulled by shame and the sting of powerlessness. The magic that had been an extension of his very essence was now gone; it left him exposed, raw in a way that pained him more than his physical wounds.

Loki could feel the cold emanating from Thor’s posture in the chair across from him. His brother’s presence was like a statue- immovable, severe- a stark contrast to the warmth that usually radiated from the God of Thunder. Not that it wasn’t warranted– Loki had just yesterday killed a dear friend of Thor’s and the Avengers, plus countless other civilians. 

“The Avengers and SHIELD want you to stay on the Eastern seaboard, so that they can easily keep an eye on you,” Thor’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and cool.

“Great, I’m homeless on this godforsaken planet and I will be under surveillance by those who could never understand our ways,” Loki muttered to himself in a bitter tone, sighing as his eyes focused on nothing in the grey skies out the window. 

“You know that Father was lenient. It’s only because of Mother that you were given this sentence, and not death,” he said, his tone more patronizing than Loki had ever heard it.

“And what of Thanos? Odin said nothing to the truths I laid out for him!,” Loki spat.

“Father will do what needs to be done. But you cannot deny your place in this scheme. What you have done. The lives you have taken in vain!,” Thor’s voice raised, echoing in the modern room. 

Loki didn’t respond, he was done discussing this again with his family. Instead, he sat with the weight of the situation he had found himself in. That he had put himself in. He could almost taste the tang of his own pride as it fought against this imposed humility.

Thor shifted in his chair, the leather creaking softly beneath his large build. He remained silent, the lines of his face taut with unresolved tension. The space between them was filled with the weight of yesterday’s tragedy, the lives lost lingering like specters in the air.

“Now we just have to find out what kind of Earth job suits you, and that Father would approve of,” he began, his voice echoing Odin’s edicts. “‘You must put in the work, help the Midgardians. And prove to them that we are not savages who have no regard for life on other realms.’”

The words hung between them, a gauntlet thrown at Loki’s feet. To labor among these mortals, to be judged by their standards and confined within their borders– this was his penance. 

“How could you make amends to the people of Midgard? Through the arts? Hmm…an actor? You are dramatic and love to lie. You could probably make a fortune doing that if you wanted,” his voice dripped with irritation as his eyes bore into Loki.

Loki let out an almost inaudible snort and rolled his eyes while he continued to try to ignore Thor’s anger. He had thought the lowest point in his life was his falling from the rainbow bridge. But this was more public– a loss for all of Earth to witness. The humans saw him as a monster, a being woven from darkness and chaos here to destroy their world- just as the Frost Giants of his bedtime stories. Maybe the accusations of his heritage were right. 

And yet, Thor was still helping him. A small pang of guilt surfaced– remorse for the lives lost, dreams shattered. Yes, they were mere mortals, but he had seen their courage, their capacity for love and sacrifice. In his heart, he knew what he had done was wrong. Even if there had been coercion, and magical forces, he had still committed atrocities. 

“Perhaps there is some way to channel this penchant for knowledge you possess. You do love to read books…what about a librarian?,” Thor suggested to Loki, his annoyance growing at Loki’s refusal to participate. 

Loki’s gaze snapped back to Thor, a flicker of irritation crossing his features, agitating the cuts on his face that mirrored his injured ego. “A librarian?,” he echoed, the word tasting like ash on his tongue. “You suggest I spend my days shuffling parchments and hushing children?”.

“An annoyance, I know,” Thor replied, the corners of his mouth threatening to curl into a smile. “But it would be an environment suited to your talents. And it may serve as penance of sorts.”

 “And how exactly will that ‘improve our relations with the people of Earth’?” he drawled, the imitation of Odin so spot-on it bordered on mockery.

Thor’s patience, hanging by a thread, finally snapped. He stood abruptly, the chair beneath him screeching in protest against the polished floor. Loki felt himself jump slightly, surprised at Thor’s sudden movement.

“Loki, you best try harder,” Thor barked, his tone sharp. “As I’m doing all of the work and I am sick of the sight of you. You need to help me find the answer so we can end this.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken truths and the shadow of deeds that could not be undone. Loki felt the sting of Thor’s words deeper than he cared to admit. He truly was in a dark place, and his brother was ready to be rid of him. The pang hit unexpectedly, a sharp twinge that resonated somewhere deep within him– a place he rarely dared to explore. It was more than the sting of humiliation; it was a profound sense of loss.

“Thor,” he began, voice softer than he intended, “I know my actions have caused you pain.” The admission cost him, his pride chafing against the humility of the words.

Thor’s eyes snapped to him, searching, perhaps for a glimmer of the brother he once knew. Loki held that gaze, offering a silent pledge to try– he couldn’t erase all he’d done, but he could do this for him– help Thor with this decision. 

“Let us consider this... fate,” Loki replied sullenly.

“Very well. A healer? Or a Doctor, as they’re called on Earth,” Thor suggested, his voice infused with a forced optimism that clashed with the tension that gripped the room.

“What, and work with humans when they are their most disgusting? No thank you,” Loki replied, folding his arms over his chest. Thor ignored Loki’s response, and walked over to a bookcase, running his thick fingers over the binds.

“I’ve got it! A teacher!,” he exclaimed, the words tumbling out like a revelation as he turned around to look at Loki, a proud smile starting to form on his lips. 

Loki’s eyes met Thor’s in a glare, “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, you’d be perfect! You could teach humans about Asgard!” His voice carried a note of excitement.

“And since you won’t have your magic, you’ll be relatively…harmless,” Thor’s brow furrowed as he drifted off in thought for a moment, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. 

“I do not think I am the person to be teaching children,” Loki commented dryly. 

“No, not children– they study as adults here, as well. Think about it– you’re fulfilling Father’s order to give back. And you’re so knowledgeable. Plus you could hold court and be the center of the room’s attention– you’d love that!,” a sad smile pulled at the corner of his mouth wistfully. 

With a heavy sigh, Loki turned his gaze back to the window, where droplets of rain raced each other down the pane. Loki thought about this proposal, it was the best idea Thor had had. Loki couldn’t be bothered thinking about taking a Midgardian job– they all seemed terrible. But maybe this was the best option. He didn’t want to spend an extra minute here in this tower, in this city. He needed out. 

“Great,” Loki muttered under his breath, “a pedagogue to these Midgardians.” He could already picture their puzzled faces as he unraveled the threads of ancient lore. Despite his frustration with his brother’s suggestion, a part of Loki couldn’t help but appreciate the poetic irony of it all. 

Thor, however, seemed deflated, the lines of frustration etched upon his brow as he slumped back onto his chair, “Well, brother, I have tried. I don’t know what else to do, other than having SHIELD pick a job for you. And you probably would not like whatever that would entail.”

“Okay,” Loki said quietly with resignation as he felt the metaphorical door click on his new jail cell. His voice carried the faintest trace of defeat- or was it acceptance?- as his reality narrowed to the confines of this Midgardian existence.

Loki didn’t need to turn to know Thor’s eyes were upon him, searching for signs of sincerity or perhaps the glimmer of rebellion. “Thank you,” Loki murmured, almost too soft to hear over the drumming rain. “For your... persistence.” His admission hung between them like a delicate truce.

“Of course,” Thor responded, his tone carrying a hint of surprise. “You are my brother.”

Loki nodded, wrestling with the discomfort of his own vulnerability as he continued to look into the rain clouds outside of the window. 

Now.

The slight breeze pulled the recently fallen leaves across the dark pavement of the parking lot with a skitter. It was a cool day for August– a promise of what was to come in the New England fall. Charlotte sighed contentedly as she looked at the apron thrown in a haphazard pile in her passenger seat. 

Today marked her third shift at The Mudd Puddle, the quaint coffee shop that had quickly taken a spot in her routine. Nestled near the heart of the university, it was a sanctuary for over-caffeinated students and sleep-deprived professors alike. 

Charlotte had arrived early for her shift and lingered in the sanctuary of her car. With the windows down, she let the sounds of distant chatter and the rustling of trees fill the space around her, a white noise backdrop to her wandering thoughts. For a few moments, her mind drifted to the recent months that had led up to her sitting in this car, in this parking lot, far away from home. All of the studying, all of the hard work– it brought her here, to this moment.

While she could’ve taken a gap year after she graduated with her bachelor’s, or entered the workplace, she had decided to start her masters program immediately. She’d be the youngest in the program, a fact that filled her with a mix of pride and trepidation. But this was her dream, crystallizing into reality at this very university. This anthropology program was one of the best in the country, and there was also an added bonus: Asgardian History and Culture with Professor Laufeyson.

In fact, his class was the reason she was here. Her mind danced through a montage of moments spent hunched over her laptop, replaying the few interviews Loki Laufeyson had given. His voice, filtered through speakers, had been a siren call to her hunger for knowledge. 

Before she had arrived, Charlotte had envisioned the upcoming lectures– the gateways to worlds very few humans knew about. Loki Laufeyson, the handsome former God of Mischief turned professor, would be her guide through the tapestries of alien traditions and ancient stories. The very thought sent shivers down her spine.

Everything she had idealized for the former god as her teacher had come crashing down when her new boss, Kate, told her about how he really was. The reality being: Professor Laufeyson was a dick. And he was a repeat customer at the place she had coincidentally gotten a job at. 

“So, you know “Professor” Laufeyson, right? The asshole who invaded New York and the Avengers had to stop?,”  Kate had asked on Charlotte’s first day at The Mudd Puddle. Charlotte nodded, recalling how her heart skipped a beat at the mention of the name that had been echoing through her mind for months.

“Macchiatos are his thing, but he’s super particular,” Kate had continued, her brows knitting together in annoyance. “We called him the ‘macchiato menace’, and now he’s just the ‘menace’. He made one barista quit when he went off on her a couple of years ago.”

Charlotte remembered the shock that had bolted through her— the juxtaposition of her excitement over the lectures she yearned to attend and this unexpected revelation of his cruel nature.

“Really?” she had managed to say, trying to keep her voice light despite the unease coiling in her stomach. 

“Yeah, but don’t worry too much. Just...be precise with his drinks, okay?,” Kate nodded reassuringly. 

“Got it,” Charlotte had replied, more to herself than to Kate, not ready to tell her she would be in his class in a few weeks.

Now, sitting alone with the echo of that conversation playing in her mind, she refused to get worried over something that hadn’t happened yet. Who knows, maybe he would be nice to her? 

Charlotte was thankful that at the very least she had decent people to work with.  Her co-workers had been mostly friendly, and she had been enjoying the training with the owner of the shop, Kate. Kate was an amazing barista, and had even competed and won awards in her field. She was also a great boss, who was reasonable and level headed– something you didn’t always get in the restaurant industry. 

An alarm went off on her phone, signaling to her it was time to head into the coffee shop. With a smile on her face, Charlotte pulled her chestnut colored hair into a ponytail and grabbed her apron, making her way inside. As she entered the small cafe, she was surprised to see how busy it was as she pushed past the crowd. Kate greeted her with a relieved face, “Boy am I glad to see you! Che called off, so it’s just you and me until relief comes at noon!”.

“Alright, let’s do this!,” Charlotte replied, her tone cheerful and determined despite the rush. She tied her apron strings with nimble fingers and joined Kate, ready to tackle the wave of customers.

This shift had been particularly difficult, and nothing like her first weeks here. While Charlotte tackled the register, the crowd got busier and ruder. It was back to school season, and the bustling crowd had become impatient this morning. A forced smile had quickly plastered on her face as she treated each customer like they were her favorite just as Kate had taught her. An hour flew by in what felt like minutes. 

Charlotte’s fingers danced across the register keys with a deftness while the coffee shop buzzed, each customer’s voice stacking atop another in a cacophony of demands. The queue snaked out the door, a relentless stream feeding people into the cramped space. Yet, somewhere amidst the bustle, Charlotte managed a smile and found solace in the rhythm; take an order, give a muffin, smile, repeat.

“Hey, Char, can you grab another box of chai tea bags from the back?,” Kate’s voice cut through the commotion, her tattooed arms flexing as she steamed milk with precision. 

“Got it, Kate,” Charlotte replied, darting to the storage room and back with a nimbleness that surprised even her. She was learning, adapting, and the curveballs thrown by the crowd were no longer daunting.

“Thank you! Have a great day!,” she chimed to another satisfied customer. Today’s shift would not defeat her.

The atmosphere subtly shifted, like the hush that falls over an audience before the curtains rise. A tall figure materialized at the back of the line, his presence alone a silent command for attention. Whispers began to weave through the throng of people. Younger students craned their necks, some daring to giggle and point as they turned on their heels to catch a glimpse of the newcomer.

Charlotte’s breath caught as he began to move, the crowd parting with reluctant awe. He strode forward with an air of entitlement and grace, bypassing the waiting patrons. She felt herself stiffen, the surprise etching itself across her expressive features as  Professor Laufeyson approached, cutting through the line to stand before her.

“Excuse me! There’s a line!” someone called out, their protest feeble against his confident advance. The professor ignored it.

Charlotte found herself tempering her expectations about Professor Laufeyson as he stepped up towards the counter, towering over her in a finely tailored black suit and a placid look on his face. Should she tell him she’ll be seeing him next week? That she couldn’t wait to start his class? No, that’d be a weird thing to do. It’d be better to act like she doesn’t know who he is.

She couldn’t believe how handsome he was in real life. Like, stunningly so. She was not prepared for that. Sunlight from the window caught the angles of his face, casting light and shadow over the high plains of his cheekbones. His hair, the color of a raven’s wing, was pulled behind his ears; shorter than she’d seen it before. It suited him. The sexy curls of his hair framed his jawline, and danced above the lapel of his suit, which hugged his form with the precision only bespoke tailoring could afford. His appearance in the humdrum coffee shop seemed out of place. 

“Good morning,” her cheerful voice clung to the professionalism that had served her well throughout the morning rush.

Keep it together, she mentally chastised herself for the nervous flutter in her stomach. Her fingers betrayed her composure with a slight tremble, an involuntary reaction to the man who now demanded her attention.

“Good morning,” Professor Laufeyson gently smiled, his blue eyes nearly sparkling. 

“What can I get you?,” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“I’d like a macchiato, please,” he calmly requested, his eyes holding hers for a fraction longer than necessary.

She replied, “Sure thing!,” and put in his order, trying to focus on acting like this was no big deal. He paid in silence, his attention turning towards the crowd behind him with a smile. With the transaction complete, Professor Laufeyson acknowledged Charlotte with a nod and then turned and strolled towards the serving area where his order would soon appear.

That wasn’t so bad. He seemed to be in a good mood. 

Charlotte watched him go, admiring the confident set of his shoulders, the effortless way he navigated the bustling space. As he disappeared from her line of sight, Charlotte exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her pulse still raced, but she found solace in the small victory of having handled their interaction with outward poise. 

“Excuse me, hello?,” a voice jolted her back to the present, and she turned to face the new wave of customers.

“Good morning!,” Her self assuredness returned in full force as she greeted the fresh-faced group before her– a gaggle of freshmen flanked by their equally eager parents. They crowded around the counter, bright-eyed and buzzing.The order was very complicated, and she struggled to take everything right. Double shots, extra shots, no foams, the ticket for the 6 drinks was ridiculous. 

Charlotte’s hands hovered over the register, her fingers fumbling as she tried to focus on the screen in front of her. Her concentration was tested by the crowd’s discussion of Professor Laufeyson, who stood casually at the pickup counter,  reading his phone. 

“Isn’t that Thor’s brother?,” someone murmured, a ripple of excitement passing through the crowd.

“Looks way younger than I thought,” another voice joined in, edged with a mix of surprise and admiration.

“I can’t believe the school lets a terrorist teach a class,” an older man gruffly commented.

“Well, if the Avengers approved it, I’m sure it’s fine. He’s been teaching here for years, and nothing’s happened,” a father in the group contributed with self assured authority. 

Charlotte hit the wrong button, then another, and with a sigh, deleted the drink from the order for the third time. She could feel her cheeks flush warmly with a blend of embarrassment and frustration.

“Sorry,” she mumbled more to herself more than anyone else, re-entering the details yet again. She could feel the impatience growing in the line as she nodded thanks, looking towards the next in line.

The next order was also a group– more complicated requests, and it took Charlotte three tries to ring them up correctly. Doesn’t anyone just order regular coffee anymore??, she thought to herself. 

Kate, usually easy going, was now a portrait of strained patience, her arms moving in a blur as she crafted drinks as quickly as possible. “Damn it,” Kate exhaled, the sound barely audible over the grind of coffee beans and the hiss of steam wands. Charlotte glanced at the clock: thirty minutes before help was to arrive. 

They were officially in the weeds, and Charlotte was still new, so she didn’t know how to help Kate make the orders she had just taken. 

Three teenagers walked up, one of them with Instagram open and a picture of a coffee drink. She knew they were about to order some random concoction that had become viral. Just what she and Kate needed. 

Panic started to creep in, as the front door bell went off again, and Charlotte saw the line now going out the front door. She felt her chest tighten as she tried to concentrate on the customers, and ignore the eyerolls in the back of the line. 

“Can you add an extra shot to that latte?,” asked an annoyed man in a crumpled suit, phone wedged between shoulder and ear.

CRASH. Charlotte jumped as her head turned towards the sound of the calamity, and saw Kate had dropped a mug on the floor, sending porcelain shattering everywhere. The crowd quieted for a moment. Charlotte told the next couple in line to hold on a moment as she checked on the mess.

She took the brief moment to take a deep breath as she walked over to Kate. “Is there anything I can help you with?,” she asked hopefully, while Kate pulled blonde strands of hair behind her ear and reached for the broom and began to sweep up her mess. 

“Keep the line moving, Char. I’ve got this,” she reassured her. 

“Ummm excuse me- I ordered oat milk- this tastes like regular milk,” a young teenage boy no older than thirteen claimed with a condescending tone to Kate from the pick up counter.

Charlotte wanted to reach over the counter and smack him– she knew Kate wouldn’t have made a mistake like that. This morning was getting more intense by the minute, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was assholes. As the boy tapped his foot impatiently, a surge of protectiveness washed over Charlotte. Her cheerful facade wavered, the edges of her smile hardening into something less inviting.

“Oh, it’s oat milk,” Kate replied with a sickeningly sweet tone as she bent over and picked up the big shards on the floor, not looking at him.

“Shit!,” she muttered under her breath as she stood up to look at Charlotte. 

Charlotte saw the red seeping out of Kate’s finger, a cut from a piece of porcelain. Kate dumped the last of the mess into the trash, and shot Charlotte a “Can you fucking believe this??” look. She wrapped her cut finger in a paper towel.

“Can you just redo it? It tastes funny,” the teen replied to anyone who would listen, rolling his eyes. 

“Of course, dear, I just need to go clean myself up first,” Kate walked up to Charlotte, lowering her voice. 

“I’m going to tell the people at the register it’s going to be a few minutes, and try to calm them down before they start flipping their shit. Can you make that little asshole’s cappuccino? Oat milk,” she sarcastically saluted Charlotte. 

“Uh– yea, I can try,” Charlotte nodded, heading to the cappuccino machine.

Out of her periphery, she saw Professor Laufeyson walk up to the counter, standing next to the teenage boy. She shook her head, dreading what could possibly happen next. 

Charlotte completed the drink and delivered the coffee to the teen, “OAT. MILK.,” she enunciated, forcing a smile as much as she could, but she was sure appeared more like a sneer.

Then came the voice, deep and unamused, slicing through the coffee shop chatter like a blade, “This macchiato is not up to acceptable standards.”

Charlotte looked to her new teacher and saw a look of disapproval on his perfect face and tried to bring herself to smile at him, but she wasn’t sure if she was pulling it off. 

“Yea we’ll get to it in a minute, the line’s backed up, and–”, Charlotte tried to placate him while internally she felt like she might snap. This shift had been too much, and dealing with “The Menace” was the last thing she wanted. Her fascination with him from his arrival quickly vanished, and annoyance began to set in. 

“I do not have time. You will remake mine now, as I was here first.” His tone grew more stern, and his brows furrowed.

“Yes, sir, I get it, but we’re understaffed and I’m new. We’re trying.” She tried to hide her irritated tone unsuccessfully as she looked around at the chaos unfolding in the entryway. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks, the frustration and embarrassment of not being able to do her job getting to her. She hated feeling like this. 

“Trying? Well that’s not good enough, is it?,” he shot back at her, setting his cup down on the counter with emphasis. 

If there was one thing that really bothered her, it was treating service workers like shit. Charlotte’s heart pounded a furious rhythm. His words were a slap to her pride, a dismissal of her efforts. She felt herself snap.

“Look- I don’t know how to make one,” she could feel her blood pressure rise with anger as her voice raised and she met his steely blue eyes with a glare, the professor’s haughty attitude getting under her skin. 

“Hey- are we going to get some help down here??,” a man at the register yelled down to Charlotte. She looked back over to see the line of customers looking mad, some throwing their arms up in the air.  

“You’re just going to have to wait, like everyone else,” Charlotte said to her professor, venom appearing in her tone more than she had planned as she gestured to the situation unraveling around them. 

“Excuse me?? Do you know who I am?,” Loki’s eyes narrowed as he stared down at the small woman, stepping closer.��

“Yes I do, and like I said, I literally don’t know how to make your damn drink, so you’re just going to have to wait!!,” her raised voice cutting through the air, sharp and reckless, as her hands curled into fists at her sides. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, a battle drum urging her on.

Professor Laufeyson’s face was a canvas of barely restrained fury, his eyes darkening like storm clouds over an ocean. His stature loomed, a tower of indignation. Charlotte could feel every eye upon them, and her chest tightened with a cocktail of rage and mortification as she tried to ignore it.

The look in his eyes grew meaner. “You’re incredibly disrespectful for someone who can’t even make a simple coffee at her coffee shop job!” Professor Laufeyson snapped, his voice now threatening. 

Is this the part where I'm supposed to cower? Fuck that!

The corners of her mind whispered defiance, but aloud, nothing came– only the sound of her own breath, ragged and quick.

“Heeyyyy….,” Kate’s melodious voice interrupted the tension between them as she quickly sidled up to Charlotte.

“Finally, someone competent. You will re-make my macchiato, and this time, you will be less heavy handed with the milk,” he demanded, his focus shifting to Kate. 

“Absolutely, Professor. I’ll get on that right now,” Kate’s hand gently pressed against Charlotte’s back, pushing her away from impending disaster.

“Girl, what are you doing? He’s not the one to mess with,” she whispered as she ushered Charlotte away from Laufeyson. 

Charlotte turned quickly, plastering on a sweet smile again for the irritated man at the register. She could feel her hand shaking as she rang him up, her mind racing about what had just transpired. Even though this customer was also an asshole, he only annoyed her. Professor Laufeyson’s attitude and entitlement genuinely made her want to fight. 

As her Professor, finally satisfied, left the cafe without a look in her direction, Charlotte knew one thing for certain: she was not looking forward to class with him next week. 

Loki, irritated about the incident at the coffee shop, loudly slammed the door to his office. The insolence. He shook his head as he thought about the young woman who dared to give him attitude. He couldn’t believe the audacity of such a simple human brashly arguing with him like that in the coffee shop he had been frequenting since he’d moved here. Loki huffed, trying to push her out of his mind as he sank into the large brown chesterfield couch in his office. 

He sat quietly for a moment, refocusing his attention on his surroundings. Naturally, he had been able to get himself the best office on campus. After thousands of years, humans were still easily manipulated into giving him what he wanted. His office was tucked away in the library building, where it was quiet. It was also huge, with large windows overlooking the south quad. Loki hated to admit that the view was gorgeous, and that he had started to get attached to this space. This had become his sanctuary when he was on campus. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as his head rested on the back of the couch. 

Five years down. They had been the longest in his life. And he still had no idea how much longer he’d be here. Twenty years? Fifty years? While the time should go quickly for the former god, the days were feeling longer, and a sense of restlessness had taken hold of him. 

He would’ve preferred jail to this. He could just sit and read. Instead, he was made to get a job. Like a peasant. Odin knew exactly what he was doing when he delivered this punishment.

On top of the mundane life that Loki now led, he felt bound up not being able to use his magic. It was as if someone had tied his arms behind his back– the feeling of the phantoms of magic tingling his fingertips, never to truly form. Yes, he still knew his spells. He still had the innate knowledge of a divine magic user– but Odin had stripped him of the ability to use it. It was as useless to him as it was to mortals. 

A new fear had begun to creep into the back of his mind over the past few months– that he would never have his magic returned. That he may remain mortal forever. That fear was the worst that plagued Loki, and he pushed it away to the farthest reaches of his mind, locked tight in a box he tried to ignore. 

His dreams of late had taken him to previous battles, or chaotic cosmic events where he was able to truly be himself. But the reality of his life now was that there was no excitement, no thrills that satisfied him. 

He had tried to fill this void when he first arrived by partying and fucking nearly half the city. Debauchery had been a great distraction, but that enthusiasm waned over time. Then he started joining dojos and trying to get accepted into local weapons clubs. He was quickly kicked out of all of them– mortal men do not like being shown up by a 1200 year old former god. And Loki wasn’t challenged, it was just too easy. He briefly missed Thor– he was a formidable opponent to spar with. 

Whenever Thor was on Earth, he would text Loki, reaching out to check in. Loki ignored those texts. It was bad enough that the Avengers would sometimes send someone to check in on him, showing up nonchalantly and disrupting his class. It was a reminder that he was in prison, and they were his jailors. Loki sneered a look of disgust thinking about their patronizing attitude. Everyone– Thor, the Avengers, SHIELD– was waiting to see him fuck up. Make one mistake, then he’s done. Odin would have no qualms with bringing Loki’s life to an unceremonious end. 

But Loki had stayed here this long, and one day, he’ll be out of here. He just needed to ignore this new, clawing feeling of agitation that had begun to grow in the last couple of months. 

Loki had also changed a small amount since he had been banished here, and he knew it. Softened. He had even begun to enjoy some of the student’s conversations last year. So maybe the growing feeling of unease was because he knew he was changing? Or was it the mischief– calling to him, urging him to cause disruption again? He had walked the straight and narrow for years…it was exhausting fighting against his own nature constantly. And boring. 

He hummed thoughtfully to himself as he relaxed in the warm yellow glow of the room, picking up the class roster and reviewing the list of names. Twenty five students, full class again. At least half of them would be gone by the end of the semester. They normally started off the year excited, asking him a bunch of inane questions in the beginning (this year he was going to start the first class with an FAQ to get those out of the way). 

But once they saw how rigorous the class was, and learned about Loki’s high standards, most dropped the class. Last year he was lucky to have a few very enthusiastic students who seemed genuinely interested in Asgard. It was often a mix of students who just wanted to brag about being there, those who were trying to fuck him (or trying to fuck Thor somehow), or lazy students who were taking the class because their parents made them. 

Loki stood and walked over to his record player, pulling out a favorite recording of Caprices of Paginini, and put it on, sighing. He stepped over to his large mahogany desk and opened his laptop for the first time since school had let out in May. 

He had spent the summer as he did every year on Midgard– exploring the far reaches of the planet. He figured that if he was stuck here, he may as well approach this realm with scholarly zeal. The planet had pleasantly surprised him in its range of biomes, cultures, sights, and foods. Somewhere along the line, Loki began to appreciate parts of living on Earth. He wouldn’t dare say it out loud, but there were some things he truly enjoyed that humans had produced. 

He spent a few minutes reviewing his emails, nothing of much importance that he had to respond to. They wanted him to do another speaker night, of course. That was a big donor night. And the librarian, Ms. Warren, who had a very obvious crush on him, informed him of the new literature they had stocked for the year. Nothing interesting there.

Loki unceremoniously closed the computer, bored with its contents. His thoughts drifted again to the young woman in the coffee shop, spitting attitude and disrespect towards him. He felt his irritation building back in his chest. She was a nobody, and she dared to speak to him like that. Why did it bother him so much?

Chapter 2

LYHOM Masterlist

LYHOM Playlists

Buy me a coffee 💚

[desos-records]

Magic's not allowed in Gotham, but Jason's never been one to follow rules. // Jason Todd helps out the local exorcist.

Jason Todd/Reader

Chapters: First/Prev

Word Count: 1,257

Warnings: none, just fluff

-

"Who would win? You or him?"

"Huh?"

Jason held tight to the sound of your voice. The two of you had been sitting quietly on the couch, eating the pasta he'd made. You were watching John Wick shoot thugs in a dance club with the volume low, but Jason was watching you.

"Could you beat John Wick in a fight, yes or no?" you asked, eyes fixed to the screen.

You were curled up on the opposite end of the couch, wearing the softest pjs and sweater that Jason could find in his closet. Your hair was still damp and he could smell his soap on you and his thoughts had bubbled and fizzed ever since you walked out of the bathroom. Why in God's name had he thought this would be a good idea?

The weight of his wanting pushed up against his chest, threatening to break his rib cage. He wanted to gather you up in his arms, wanted to feel your heartbeat and your breathing, wanted to tell you every sappy, embarrassing, lovely thought he'd ever had about you. And he really, really wanted to kiss you.

"Oi. Red." You snapped your fingers inches from the tip of his nose and he blinked back into focus.

"What?"

"No wonder you wear two masks. You don't want anyone to know that you're a total space cadet."

"I'm not…" He frowned. "Of course, I could beat him in a fight. He's just some guy with a gun."

Your laughter bubbled to the surface and boiled over. The clear, sparkling sound caught in Jason's chest until he found himself laughing too.

"Did I say something funny?" he tried to ask through the stupid grin on his face.

"You're just a guy with a gun," you said, still giggling.

"Oh yeah? Can John Wick do this?" 

Every cell in his body hummed off-key. It took a second to pull himself together and truly focus, but as he looked at you, the TV glitched with static. Your breath became puffs of white smoke as the temperature plummeted. Dogs howled outside.

You rolled your eyes. "Latent Lazarus magic and all you do with it is party tricks?"

Jason froze, his laughter shriveling down into his stomach. The air warmed again. The dogs quieted. "How did you…"

"For God's sake, I can feel it spilling off you from a mile away, always have. I didn't need to see your eyes glow to be sure." You huffed and set your bowl of pasta on the coffee table to gesture at him. "You're lucky I like you, otherwise you'd attract every demon, angel, and idiot with a spellbook on the Eastern Seaboard."

"What are you talking about?"

You shifted closer, turning to face him directly, and he tried not to tense up when your knee nudged his hip. "Can I see your hand?" you asked.

He placed his hand in your waiting palm, reassured by the familiar hum of magic under your skin. When you pressed your thumb against his pulse point, a symbol burst to life in his palm, outlined in golden lines of light. Then you pulled up your sleeve to reveal the same symbol inked into the soft underside of your forearm, now glowing to match.

"This is a protection seal," you said. "Instead of sensing unbound magic, anyone looking at you would only sense mine. And they wouldn't dare steal that."

Jason's grasp of language escaped him. He could only manage a strangled, "Why?"

You shrugged, trying for impassive, but he noticed how you glanced away. He noticed your tremor returning. And he couldn't bear that, not with how deeply you'd entrenched yourself—his apartment, his clothes, his food, and his skin. You looked up when he placed his hand gently on your arm, covering the symbol that bound the two of you together.

"Why would you do that?" he asked softly.

"I should've told you," you said, tracing the lines on his palm with your thumb. "I should've asked. And I'm sorry for that. We were teaming up for the first time and it was hard enough convincing your family any of it was real. I tend to attract the kind of things that steal magic. I knew that. And when I saw you had Lazarus magic grafted into you… well, I couldn't let that happen. But I should've asked."

"I'm not sure I would've believed you," he said. Then he laughed again. "Do you mark your territory on all the people you like? Or am I just special?"

You rankled and pulled your hands back, eyes wide. The scowl you leveled at him couldn't quite hide the way you squirmed as you spat, "I did no such thing!" But then a laugh burst out of you too and Jason's heart glowed warm inside him.

"Thank you," he said. "For protecting me." He tapped the symbol as it faded from his hand.

"Anytime, Red." Then you corrected yourself. "Jason."

A little bolt of lightning shot up his spine hearing his name—his real name—in your voice. When you smiled, he decided to chase the lightning.

Leaning closer, he asked, "Would you send me to Hell if I kissed you?"

He expected more surprise, but you only raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so determined to get yourself hurt?" you asked as your smile slid off your face, leaving a stony wall behind.

"You won't hurt me."

"No, but I'm an exorcist. Death is my oldest friend and my jealous ex. Why do you think Constantine lives at the bottom of a bottle?"

He met your eyes steadily and said, "I'm not afraid," and found it to be true.

"I am." You took his hand again and held it between your own. He could feel the storm of your heartbeat in the tips of your fingers. You added, "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." He touched his lips briefly to the back of your hand.

You stood up and pulled your hand away. "I should sleep. Or try to," you said, face unreadable no matter how long he looked at you. 

And you let him look for a while, long enough that he realized you were looking at him too—not waiting for anything, just looking. Shards of light reflected off the dark window glass, your glowing gold and his green.

"The bed's all made up," he said softly. As much as he didn't want to break the quiet, he couldn't let you stand there all night.

You nodded, reaching out one last time to squeeze his arm and say, "Thank you." He watched you go, but then you paused in the doorway to the bedroom, the last point of light before the darkness. Looking over your shoulder, you said, "I have something terribly selfish to ask you."

"Shoot."

"I don't want to be alone. Will you stay with me?"

He stood up and met you at the door. "All yours, sweetheart."

Together, you slipped into the dark room and under the covers. When he opened his arms, you crawled inside—a wild animal huddled in the hollow of a tree. Your muscles relaxed one at a time, your breathing slowed, and you were asleep before he even thought to ask if you were comfortable. He wanted to stay awake, to tattoo everything about you here onto the backs of his hands so he could remember it all after you'd left, but the humming warmth pulled him down after you.

Jason still liked churches, but he knew he didn't need them to find holy ground.

[asfaltics]

.

6645 . drawing under-sheet; levels adjusted . 20240720

6714   Morass     Connecting lines 11390   Sand     In writing

ex Seaboard Air Line Railway, Telegraphic Code. May 1st, 1902.

20240720  

[guerrerense]

What Do You Think? por David Blazejewski Por Flickr: l don't know how you all feel but, I REALLY like the flashy new scheme chosen for US Sugar's locomotive fleet. It is reminiscent if the old Seaboard Air Line's look but is brighter and really pops. It looks great in person and the nose on view is vast improvement in my opinion. Here's the power off the Sebring Turn which is all done for the day and the week and has tied their power down beside the South Central Florida Express railroad's shop beside Aztec Avenue. USSC 6325 was originally an SD45 built in Aug. 1968 as Penn Central 6237 one of only five acquired by the ill fated Class 1, thought originally ordered by the Pennsylvania Railroad pre merger which already had a fleet of 130 of the big 20 cylinder beasts. Passing to Conrail it was later sold to CNW and then served as an NRE leaser before ending up on Tacoma Rail where it served until 2003 until being rebuilt by Western Rail as an SD40-3 and dressed up for its new life here. To learn a bit more about this image change check out this link: www.trains.com/trn/news-reviews/news-wire/u-s-sugar-intro... Clewiston, Florida Friday March 14, 2025

[onefootin1941]

Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig departing for spring training in Florida on board the Seaboard Air Line Railroad passenger train Florida Limited in 1927.

[zponds]

Here’s another profile pic of me. The hat is light blue and regular blue with the Union Pacific logo on it. The shirt vertically halved with sunburst yellow on one half and CNW green on the other half, with the Chicago & Northwestern logo on it. This setup references the historical fact that both Union Pacific and Chicago & Northwest jointly operated three streamliners; The City of Los Angeles, The City of Denver and The City of Portland. That is until October 1955 when CNW pulled out and the Milwaukee Road took over CNW’s operations on the streamliners in November 1955. This setup also references the fact that UP and CNW were long-time partners for many decades, all the way to the point where UP absorbed CNW in 1995.

This profile picture has a hat that’s white and green with the logo of the (USA) Southern Railway on it. The shirt in this profile pic is coal black with the shirt collar and outlines being N&W red with the Norfolk & Western logo on it. This setup references the railroad history fact that Norfolk & Western and Southern Railway were rivals back in the day and later merged into Norfolk Southern in June 1982.

The hat is white and green with the (USA) Southern Railway logo on it. The top half of the shirt is dark green with the Seaboard Air Line logo on it while the bottom half of the shirt is royal purple with the Atlantic Coast Line logo on it. This setup is referencing the fact that prior to the late 1960s, the Southern Railway, Seaboard Air Line and Atlantic Coast Line were the 3 giant railroads in the southern United States.

[rabbitcruiser]

Millbrae, CA (No. 2)

The City and County of San Francisco first leased 150 acres (61 ha) at the present airport site on March 15, 1927, for what was then to be a temporary and experimental airport project. San Francisco held a dedication ceremony at the airfield, officially named the Mills Field Municipal Airport of San Francisco, on May 7, 1927, on the 150-acre cow pasture. The land was leased from the Mills Estate in an agreement made with Ogden L. Mills who oversaw the large tracts of property originally acquired by his grandfather, the banker Darius O. Mills. San Francisco purchased the property and the surrounding area expanding the site to 1,112 acres (450 ha) beginning in August 1930. The airport's name was officially changed to San Francisco Airport in 1931 upon the purchase of the land. "International" was added at the end of World War II as overseas service rapidly expanded.

The earliest scheduled carriers at the airport included Western Air Express, Maddux Air Lines, and Century Pacific Lines. United Airlines was formed in 1934 and quickly became the key carrier at the airport, with Douglas DC-3 service to Los Angeles and New York beginning in January 1937. A new passenger terminal opened in 1937, built with Public Works Administration funding. The March 1939 Official Aviation Guide shows 18 airline departures on weekdays—seventeen United flights and one TWA flight. The August 1952 chart shows runway 1L 7,000 feet long, 1R 7,750 feet, 28L 6,500 feet, and 28R 8,870 feet.

In addition to United, Pacific Seaboard Air Lines flew between San Francisco and Los Angeles in 1933; the Bellanca CH-300s flew San Francisco–San Jose–Salinas–Monterey–Paso Robles–San Luis Obispo–Santa Maria–Santa Barbara–Los Angeles. Competition with United led Pacific Seaboard to move all of its operations to the eastern U.S., and rename itself Chicago and Southern Air Lines (C&S). It became a large domestic and international air carrier. Chicago & Southern was acquired by and merged into Delta Air Lines in 1953, giving Delta its first international routes.[14] Delta used the route authority inherited from C&S to fly one of its first international services operated with Convair 880 jet aircraft from San Francisco to Montego Bay, Jamaica, and Caracas, Venezuela, via intermediate stops in Dallas and New Orleans in 1962.

Source: Wikipedia

[starset21]

Disclaimer: I only own my original characters, I've done some research but there will likely be Navy/military inaccuracies, and I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under @.itswildflower

A/N: This story is heavily inspired by the hallmark movie of the same title and is very self-indulgent. I'm also trying a different format than I'm used to using so it may change in the future chapters.

Looking for the other chapters? U.S.S. Christmas Masterlist 

Summary: The final day of the tiger cruise is being wrapped up and its time to say goodbye.

Chapter 6: Disembarking

“Kate, how is the article coming along?” Ron asked as they were decorating some Christmas ornaments.

“Um, unfortunately, it's not coming along as easily as I had hoped, but it's been a fun adventure and… Jake's been amazing,” she told him.

“Jake?” Jackson asked in a teasing tone.

“Wonderful. It's been, uh… Enlightening,” he told them.

“Well, I'm glad to hear it. And I hope everybody enjoyed the cruise,” Ron told them.

“This time with my kids… was just the best Christmas gift,” Elizabeth told him.

“That makes me happy. Family is everything,” Ron said, a bright smile on his face.

“Apologies. I need to excuse myself,” Jake told them, standing up.

“Work?”

“Just a few lists I need to double-check. Excuse me,” Jake smiled before walking off.

“A toast. To friends… Family… And Christmas!” Ron added.

“Cheers, Merry Christmas!” they all echoed. 

“Merry Christmas! Ho ho ho ho ho ho!”

They all turned to see Santa walk over to one of the chairs.

“Yay, Santa's here!” some kids cheer.

The Santa adjusted his beard just enough for them to see it was Jake. Kate laughed and he sent her a wink.

“Oh ho ho! Merry Christmas! Come on, kids, line up in a single-file line, everyone can see Santa,” Jake bellowed.

“You are a miracle worker,” Ron smiled, turning to Kate.

“Me?”

Ron nodded. “What happened on that trip to New York?” he asked.

“Oh. Um, we just talked a lot about the past and the future, and... I reminded Jake what makes Christmas so special,” Kate told him truthfully.

“Well… He seems very happy,” Ron nodded, turning back to the ornament he was working on. 

Later that night Kate stood up in the crows nest, getting some air.

“I told you that first night I met you I can be spontaneous,” Jake said, coming to lean against the railing beside her, his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Yeah, you did. And I was wrong about you. Where'd you get that belly, anyway?” Kate asked, looking out at the water.

“Two life preservers, remember?” Jake laughed.

“Oh… Good use of a flotation device,” Kate shook her head. Jake pulled his hands out of his pockets and with it came a very glittery snowflake.

“Yeah, and sparkles. Tons and... tons of sparkles. Voilà. Not too shabby, huh?” he asked, handing it to her.

“It’s beautiful Jake…” she trailed off as little white things began floating down around them.

“Is... is it...?” she asked.

“Snow. It's the perfect night,” Jake told her.

“Absolutely… Perfect,” Kate echoed.

Jake took a step closer to her. He was never one for the romantic aspects of relationships, he was always so career driven, but with her, it was like he was an entirely new person. He would not lie and say he didn’t enjoy being this new guy, one who could open up and express his thoughts to her, watching him quietly. He leaned in and Kate did too. But before her lips could do more than brush his, she pulled away.

“Jake, this isn't a good idea,” she muttered before taking a step away from him.

“Why not?” he asks.

“I think you're so great, but whatever this is here on the ship, it's… It's not gonna work back home. I… I'm so sorry. I should go,” she tells him, turning and walking away.

“Kate, don't…” Jake trailed off but she was already gone. 

“Tigers, thank you for joining us on our 4-day cruise of the eastern seaboard. It's been a pleasure having you onboard, and we wish you the merriest of christmases,” the intercom clicked off after they had docked.

“Sayonara, ladies, Jackson, Have a wonderful Christmas. I'm off to Aspen to meet the rest of my family,” Charlotte told them.

“It's been real, Charlotte,” Kate told her, shaking her hand.

“Real fun,” she smiled and nodded before heading off with her brother.

“Oh! We just had the best time, Ron. Thank you,” Elizabeth gushed.

“You're welcome. And I hope I wake up to your article Christmas day,” Ron directed to Kate.

“I hope so too,” she told him. “I thought Jake would have shown up to say goodbye, but… Well, Merry Christmas, ladies,” Ron told them.

“You too, Ron. Merry Christmas.” Kate grabbed her bag and they were about to head out when they heard heavy footsteps coming from behind them. 

“Kate! I'm so glad I caught you before you left!” Nick exclaimed.

“We'll get the bags to the car. Do you have the keys?” Jackson asked their mom.

“My brother found a Jonah William who was a pilot on the polaris in 1965,” Nick hurriedly told her.

“That's amazing! What about the records? I thought we needed a freedom of information request.”

“Turns out he was awarded the Navy cross for extraordinary heroism. He shot down three enemy aircraft in Vietnam, and that makes him a person of exceptional prominence, which is an exception to the rule of releasing records to the public without a formal request,” Nick told her.

“That's so amazing. So where is he now?” Kate bit her lip in anticipation.

“He went back to Vietnam in 1967 and, sadly, went missing in action,” Nick told her and Kate frowned.

“Oh. Did they ever find him?” she asked.

“It's complicated. While Jonah was Mia, there was a fire at the VA storage facility in Missouri which houses the records. The strange part is, after the fire, the trail goes cold. My brother couldn't find any more from military records.” Kate’s head dropped.

“So we don't even know if he's alive?” she sighed.

“Okay. Well, I have his name, I can do my own search. Thanks Nick.”

Nick nodded. “Well, I hope it works out. Good luck,” he tells her.

“Thanks.”

Kate turned to leave but Jake walked out just as she did.

“Merry Christmas, Jake,” she said quietly.

“Merry Christmas, Kate.”

Kate swallowed, looking up at him.

“You stay safe, okay?” she asked and Jake nodded.

Kate nodded once more before heading off the ship. 

[grantgfan]

Hey, Max. In my alternative history of the railroads; “What-If: American Railroads”, a new type of steam locomotive is built and proposed by Lima Locomotive Works; the 4-8-6 wheel arrangement. The Chesapeake and Ohio was the first to buy this new locomotive and named the 4-8-6 wheel arrangement the “Ohio” type. The Chesapeake and Ohio was the largest buyer of the 4-8-6 Ohio’s, followed closely by the New York Central, Union Pacific, Milwaukee Road, Burlington Route, Chicago & Northwestern, Southern Pacific, Santa Fe, Southern Railway and Seaboard Air Line.

Max: wow

[jamieroxxartist]

✔ Mark Your Calendars: Thurs Sept 14 on 🎨#JamieRoxx’s Pop Roxx Radio 🎙️#TalkShow and 🎧#Podcast w/ Featured Guest:

#ArielleSilver Arielle Silver Music ​(#IndieFolk, #Americana)

☎ Lines will be open (347) 850.8598 Call in with your Questions and Comments Live on the Air.

● Click here to Set a Reminder: http://tobtr.com/12265869

Pop Art Painter Jamie #Roxx (www.JamieRoxx.us) welcomes Arielle Silver (Indie Folk, Americana) to the Show!

● WEB: ariellesilvermusic.com ● FB: @ariellesilvermusic ● IG: @ariellesilver ● YT: @ariellesilver ● BC: @ariellesilver ● X: @relsilver

Arielle Silver is a consummate storyteller whose rich, expressive voice and acoustic guitar frame expansive melodies that echo her tours and travels across the American heartland. Raised on folk festival fields and synagogue pews, in woodsy and watery places up and down the Atlantic Seaboard, Arielle now lives in Los Angeles, just a traffic jam away from the Pacific Ocean.

Out in Fall 2023, her fifth album WATERSHED is an earthy, luminous, and literate collection of songs that emerged from the watershed moments of the pandemic. This follows her 2020 album, A THOUSAND TINY TORCHES. Music Connection calls her "“A born communicator... exudes intelligence and humanity.” The SoCal Sound program director calls her "an incredible singer-songwriter right in our backyard." She has performed solo, with violinist Daryl S, and full band at venues across the U.S., including Rockwood Music Hall (NYC), Hamel Music Center (Madison, WI), Folk Project (Morristown, NJ), Hotel Cafe (Los Angeles), Ojai Underground Exchange (Ojai, CA), Club Passim (Boston), John Anson Ford Amphitheater (Los Angeles), FocusMusic (D.C./Baltimore), Eddie's Attic (Atlanta), and The Evening Muse (Charlotte, NC).

​Arielle teaches Creative Writing Antioch University, is co-owner of Bhavana Flow Yoga, directs programs at The SONA Foundation, and was recent faculty at UWisc-Madison's Summer Music Clinic and the International Women's Writing Guild, and currently serves as Board President of Folk Alliance Region-West.

● Media Inquiries: Nicole Poulos nicole@sideways-media.com Sideways Media