#River Rail Photo

[bucktransit]

[smidge-j]

I went to see the first major hydroelectric system (not a dam) built in New Zealand today

Coleridge Power system in Canterbury, New Zealand

Water in the natural Lake Coleridge is diverted through some tunnels (pic 3) under a small mountain, then down the side of the hill through the penstocks (pic 1), where it goes through turbines to generate electricity before being discharged into the Rakaia River(pic 2), which runs parallel to the lake, at a significantly lower elevation. It is not a dam, like most hydroelectric systems are, instead using the natural elevation and tunnels to power the turbines.

Stats:

Operational in 1914

The tunnels through the hill are around 2km long

Elevation difference between the lake and the turbines is around 160m

Output of 270 gigawatt hours annually.

Tagging @possumofdoom because I know you are also interested in hydroelectricity

[grainelevator]

Canadian Pacific 3065 (EMD GP38-2) leaving the grain elevator in Rockglen, Saskatchewan [source]

[photosbyjez]

Silent Sunday Jun 02

Tay Rail Bridge I did a couple of Gothic re-imaginings in DALL-E of this iconic bridge.

[vox-anglosphere]

Victorians didn't plan for obsolescence. It was all about permanence.

Here’s what 11 million bricks could build you! That’s roughly the amount that went into the construction of the Ouse Valley Viaduct in Sussex, captured beautifully here at sunrise. The viaduct is 1,480ft in length and carries the London-Brighton railway line over the River Ouse. Some feat of engineering

[rjzimmerman]

A least Bell’s vireo (Vireo bellii pusillus) sings at Taylor Yard on March 22. California placed this songbird on its endangered species list in 1980, but this rare vireo has recently returned to central L.A. thanks to habitat restoration and the return of the natural riparian ecosystem along a section of the Los Angeles River. Alecia Smith / Audubon California

Excerpt from this story from the Smithsonian Magazine:

Along a gentle bend of the Los Angeles River, in a stretch of land called Taylor Yard, a sound like a high-pitched record scratch can just be heard above the cacophony of city life. This is the call of the least Bell’s vireo, an olive-gray songbird that is only five inches from tip to tail. The riparian species native to Southern California has lived an endangered existence for more than 40 years. Now, the small bird’s return here symbolizes a new future for one of the country’s most maligned waterways.

Before the concrete tide of urbanization washed over the Los Angeles River Basin, the river-fed wetland that was here represented the perfect habitat for this rare species. But for the past century, this area was one of the largest rail yards in the region, and as an expanding city grew right up to the river’s now concrete-laden banks, the vireo all but disappeared.

Until, suddenly, it returned. The 2007 creation of Rio de Los Angeles State Park, which is itself part of the sprawling rail yard, set the stage. In the early 2010s someone reported hearing the vireo’s memorable call. A few years later, a photo captured a vireo mid-song, and in 2022 a nesting pair took refuge in a tree. This year, the news was even better.

“We actually saw fledglings,” says Evelyn Serrano, the director of the Audubon Center at Debs Park in Los Angeles. “We saw the nest and we saw the babies, so we were very excited. It’s tough to survive in an urban environment when you’re a little bird like that, but it’s definitely possible.”

The return of the least Bell’s vireo shows what’s possible along a more natural Los Angeles River, and Taylor Yard represents the city’s largest opportunity to create vital habitat for many of its vulnerable endemic species. For years, a partnership of government groups and nonprofits has pushed to make the remaining 100 acres of the abandoned rail yard the “crown jewel” of L.A.’s river restoration project. The resulting collective, known as the 100 Acre Partnership, hopes to complete the restoration by 2028, which is just in time for the L.A. Olympic Games. The project is just the latest effort to create a new vision of Los Angeles that’s been in the works for nearly a century.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 37

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Steve’s glare follows you out the door. You don’t look back as you flit out with your roll of pencils and sketchbook. Peter stands casually at the bottom of the steps, his camera hanging around his neck. He smiles and you show your teeth. Your cheeks are tight. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asks as he walks behind you. 

“Fine,” you like. 

He reaches around you to open the gate and you lead him out. You turn down the pavement and he comes up next to you as the latch clanks shut behind him. You shrink down as his arms brushes yours. Your steps are wide and stiff as your clothing rubs against your pelvis. 

“You looked sad when you drove by so I thought maybe you’d like to see the frogs again.” He says. 

“Oh?” You peek over at him. 

“Uh, not that you don’t look nice. I like your hair.” He grins. 

“Uh, yeah, Steve... Steve took me to the salon.” 

“That’s really nice of him. Weird, he seemed a bit grumpy.” He remarks as he checks out his camera, walking casually without a glance ahead. 

“Mm, yeah. He was.” 

“But he still took you out for all that?” 

“Yeah...” you drone. “Thanks for stopping by. I... don’t go out much.” 

“Gets kinda lonely by myself. The frog doesn’t always show up, then it’s even lonelier.” He chuckles and you try to. You feel heavy. 

When you get to the bridge, he goes to the railing and works at adjusting his lenses. You perch yourself in the grass, just at the apex of the rise that leads down to the river. You open your sketchbook to new page but don’t bother with your pencils. You don’t feel like drawing. Usually, it’s what helps you calm down but now you can’t even focus. 

Peter snaps photos and points out the tadpoles rippling across the surface. You stare through the water, minnows speckling shadows onto the silt. It’s beautiful and peaceful. It’s a stark contrast to what you know awaits you at home. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Peter asks as he leans on the railing and looks at you. 

You nod and shrug. You can’t lie anymore. You bend your legs and toss your sketchbook beside you. You hang your head and cross your arms over your knees. The bridge creaks as Peter comes around. He lowers himself next to you. 

“Hey, you know, it’s been a while and all but you can talk to me.” He says. “Is it your mom? She bad?” 

“She... she has a nurse now. They take care of her.” 

He exhales softly. “Mm,” he hums thoughtfully. The water babbles gently as he fiddles with his camera. “Is it Steve?” 

You’re silent. Deathly so. Tellingly. You shift and grimace at the burn along your thighs. 

“You uncomfortable or something?” He asks. “You’re fidgeting a lot.” 

It's gnawing at you from the inside. You can't hold it in any longer. You're terrified.

“Peter,” you squeak. “I don’t... I don’t want you to judge me.” 

“Judge you?” He chuckles. “For what?” 

Your eyes glisten and you sniff, leaning your head back. You look at him slowly. “At the salon...” you quick avert your gaze and hunch down again. “They waxed me.” 

“Oh? Yeah, your brows look pretty good.” 

“No, my... my privates.” 

He makes a strange noise, “really? Uh, I think yeah, a lot of girls get that done.” 

“I didn’t-- I didn’t want it. Steve he... he made me.” 

He sighs and sniffs. “Why would he do that?” 

You raise your head and your tears spill out. His brown eyes are warm. You feel fuzzy. 

“He touches me. Says things. Does things.” 

“What?” He hisses. “Oh, god, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I asked for it. I... deserve it but... my mom needs help and he can give it to her.” You sniffle and wipe your nose. 

“You don’t have to stay there. Oh god, you should come back with me. To my Aunt May’s. She remembers you.” He insists. 

You shake your head, “I belong with my mom.” 

He huffs, “you don’t belong there. Not with that. With him.” 

“Please. Please. I can’t leave her. But...” you quaver at the thought in the back of your mind. “I’m scared.” 

“Yeah, well, who wouldn’t be--” 

“Please, just let me talk. And I’m sorry because it’s going to be really strange.” You shake your head and chew your lip. You think of last night and the car ride and all the things Steve promised. You want to hurt him too and you don’t know how else to do so. “Will you do it with me first?” 

He garbles and winces. His breath turns shallow and he looks around, “do what?” 

“Peter.” You touch his arm. “I don’t want it to hurt and I know you’ll be nice.” 

“But... we... it’s a lot.” 

“Oh,” you cover your face. “I told you it’s weird. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just... I can’t stop him.” 

“Just come with me,” he pleas. 

“I told you, my mom!” You snap. “It’s okay. I’ll... I’ll just... hold my breath.” 

He wallows beside you. A tense silence rises between you, around you, consuming you. You’re embarrassed and you think he is too. You can hear him swallow. 

“I’m... I’ve never done it before either so... I... I’m nervous.” He confesses. You slowly turn to him. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I just never got to it, I guess but maybe it’s not so bad knowing that neither of us... have?” His brows squiggle and he pushes his shoulders up. 

You nod, “is that... are you going to do it?” 

He bites his lips and his brown eyes scan around the grass and water. 

“My aunt’s at home right now, we can’t really sneak in so...” 

“It’s okay. We’ll do it here.” 

“Here?” He gurgles. 

“Yeah,” you reach for his hand and stand up slowly, “come on.” 

He blinks widely and gets up. He wiggles his hand free and lifts his camera straps from around his neck. He follows you with his head down. You carefully walk down the incline to the river and dip under the bridge. There’s just enough dirt to stand on. 

“How--?” He asks as he sets the camera on the wooden plank that braces the bridge. 

“It doesn’t have to be romantic.” You unbutton your shorts as you turn your back to him. “I just wanna get it over with.” 

“Hey, woah,” he draws your hand away from the denim and pulls you back towards him. “I don’t want it like that. Let’s take it slow, okay?” 

You look at him pout. “Okay, slow.” 

“Can I... can I kiss you?” He asks. 

“Sure,” you smile without thinking. It doesn’t feel so scary. Not with him. 

He guides you closer and puts your hands on his shoulders. He wraps his arms around you and brushes his nose down yours. His breath tickles you and he presses his lips to yours lightly. He’s shy at first. His tongue darts out then away, then out again. He grows bolder and you let him inside. He groans in surprise and delight. 

You sigh into him and your body relaxes. You slide your arms around his shoulders and cling to him. He kind and warm and nice. You like the taste of him. You like that you can feel his heart racing. You like that his touch makes you tingle that way. 

You can do this. That way when you have to face Steve, you don’t have to be there. Not in your head. No, you’ll just think of Peter and the river and the smell of pollen. 

[writingforstraykids]

Letters Of Love - Seungmin🖤

Pairing: Seungmin x gn!Reader (poly!skz)

Word Count: 893

Summary: Next you remember a late-night walk by the river with Seungmin.

Warnings/Tags: fluff

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Jeongin

You scroll through the gallery until your eyes land on a photo that perfectly encapsulates the calm, peaceful essence of one of your favorite memories with Seungmin. It’s a simple picture, nothing too elaborate, but it’s the kind of image that captures the tranquility of the moment just as you’d remembered it. The two of you are standing beside the riverbank at night, the city lights glittering like tiny stars reflected in the dark waters.

In the picture, Seungmin is standing slightly ahead of you, his back turned toward the camera as he gazes out over the river. He’s wearing a soft, oversized hoodie, the sleeves pulled down over his hands, making him look even younger and more relaxed than usual. His hair is slightly windswept, the cool night air lifting a few stray strands as he tucks his hands into his pockets. The moonlight reflects off the water, casting a gentle glow around him, making the scene look almost surreal. Your own silhouette is faintly visible beside him, your head tilted slightly as you watch him, completely absorbed in his quiet presence.

It had been one of those nights where sleep just wouldn’t come. You’d both been feeling restless, unable to settle after a long, hectic day, and Seungmin, with his usual calm demeanor, had suggested taking a late-night walk. “Let’s go to the river,” he’d said softly, his voice almost a whisper in the stillness of the night. There was something comforting about the idea, so you’d thrown on your jackets and slipped out into the cool evening, just the two of you and the quiet world around you.

The city had felt different at night-quieter, softer, as if all the usual noise and rush had been muted into a gentle hum. You’d walked side by side along the riverbank, not saying much at first, just listening to the steady flow of the water and the distant sounds of the city winding down. Seungmin’s presence was steady and reassuring beside you, and even without speaking, you’d felt the tension of the day slowly melting away, replaced by a peaceful stillness that seemed to wrap around the two of you.

Eventually, he’d stopped, leaning slightly over the railing, eyes fixed on the shimmering lights reflecting in the water. “Isn’t it beautiful?” he’d murmured, his voice quiet and thoughtful. There was a soft smile on his lips, the kind that made you want to lean closer, to capture that fleeting look in your heart forever. You’d stood there beside him, just taking it all in-the soft glow of the streetlights, the gentle ripple of the river, and the calm way his eyes traced the patterns on the water’s surface.

As you’d stood together, you’d found yourself talking, words flowing as easily as the river itself. You’d shared little stories, whispered thoughts, and dreams-nothing grand, just simple, honest moments. And Seungmin, ever the listener, had taken in each word with that gentle focus of his, nodding slightly, his eyes never leaving the water. It was one of those rare times when time seemed to slow down, leaving just the two of you and the quiet intimacy of the night.

With a smile, you attach the picture and let your fingers drift across the keyboard, thinking of the boy who always seems to bring a sense of calm wherever he goes.

Message to Seungmin:

Hey Puppy,

I found this picture from our late-night walk by the river, and it made me think about how much I treasure moments like that with you. It was such a simple thing-just walking and talking and watching the water-but somehow, it felt more special than anything else we could have been doing.

That’s what you do for me, Seungmin. You make the quiet moments feel like they’re enough. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but just being beside you, whether we’re talking or sitting in silence, makes me feel… at peace. Like I can finally breathe.

I think it’s because you listen in a way that no one else does. You always pay attention, not just to the words, but to the pauses, the silences between the words. You make me feel heard and understood, even when I can’t find the right things to say. So thank you-for always being there, for always understanding me in a way that goes beyond words.

Happy anniversary, Puppy. Let’s take more late-night walks, more quiet moments by the river, and more time to just be us, without anything else getting in the way.

Love you more than words can say.

Yours, always.

You read over the message, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Seungmin probably wouldn’t react dramatically-he’d just smile quietly, his eyes softening the way they always do when he’s moved. He’d nod, maybe murmur something low and teasing in that gentle voice of his, but you know he’d hold onto the message, treasure it in his quiet, steadfast way.

You hit send and sit back, closing your eyes as the memory of that night replays in your mind. Seungmin is like that-someone who lingers, who stays, not because he has to, but because he chooses to. Because he sees beauty in the quiet spaces, in the pauses between words, and somehow, he’s made you see it too. And that’s something you’ll never stop being grateful for.

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Jeongin

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@zehina @jinnie-ret @atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @theo4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuuru @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @minh0scat @dis-trict9

[sheerfreesia007]

Catching Snowflakes On Our Tongues

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Word count: 736

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Hyunjin wanted to do a photoshoot in the freshly fallen snow, who are you to deny him? But what happens when it starts snowing again while you’re out and you can’t hold back your quirky knowledge about snowflakes?

The soft shutter of the camera caught your attention and you turned to smile warmly at Hyunjin. He had called you this morning asking if you wanted to go out and do a photoshoot with him in the snow. It had snowed the night before and covered everything in a blanket of white which according to Hyunjin was the perfect backdrop for a photoshoot.

Eagerly agreeing to join him you had made sure to dress warmly enough before heading out to meet him at your local hang out by the Han river. As the two of you walked along the river Hyunjin would snap pictures of your surroundings lining it up perfect in his view finder before clicking the camera shutter.

You watched as he focused his camera lense on the river before taking another photo and couldn’t help but admire his concentration and his eye for pretty pictures. He’s leaning over the railing as his camera covers his face and he focuses on something across the river before snapping another picture.

Suddenly you spot a lone snowflake on his black jacket and you quickly whip your phone out and snap a close up picture of it. Hyunjin looks over at you with a furrowed brow before his eyes spot the snowflake as well. You grin at him before looking up at the sky to see that more snow is starting to fall. The sound of his camera shutter pulls your attention back to him and find him aiming his camera at you before lowering it with a bashful smile.

”You’re pretty when you watch the snow falling.” He excuses himself and you beam at him as a blush creeps up your face.

“I can’t help it. I love snowflakes.” You tell him honestly and he tilts his head at you quietly. “Did you know that all snowflakes have six sides because the hydrogen and oxygen molecules in the ice crystals for a hexagonal structure?” You ask him and he shakes his head no as he stares at you with wide eyes for a moment before a bright smile slips onto his face.

”Tell me more.” He says as you begin to walk further along the river staring up at the snowflakes falling with him following you.

”The smallest snowflakes are as small as a human hair and are called diamond dust crystals. And the largest snowflake ever recorded was thirty-eight centimeters in diameter!” You tell him excitedly as you look back up to the sky before opening up your mouth and letting your tongue loll out to try and catch some of the snowflakes. Hyunjin laughs softly at you before he does the same by tilting his head up towards the sky and letting his tongue out to catch some snowflakes as well.

”Tell me another snowflake fact.” He demands and you laugh at him before lowering your head and holding out your hands for the snowflakes to fall onto your mittens so that you can see them.

”Snowflakes are translucent. Reflecting light rather than passing it through. The light scatter in so many directions that it can’t be absorbed or reflected consistently, which makes them appear white.” You tell him and he silently watches you with his grin widening as he snaps a few more pictures of your enjoying the snow fall.

The two of you continue down the river some more before you begin to shiver from the cold air. Hyunjin wraps an arm around your shoulders and begins guiding you back towards your car so that the two of you can head back to your apartment to warm up. Just as you’re coming up to the parking lot where you parked your car he looks down at you with a fond smile on his face. 

“How about one more fact before we get out of here?” He asks softly and you grin up at him.

”At least one septillion snowflakes fall from the sky every year.” You tell him softly and his eyes soften as they stare down at you. You’re surprised when he ducks down and presses a soft kiss to your rosy cheek.

”I love that you have all this knowledge about snowflakes and want to share it with me.” He says softly to you after he pulls away and stares into your eyes. “It’s cute.” He admits and you blush prettily for him causing him to grin even wider.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids,

@hityoulikebahng

[charlesslut16]

-christmas with you in paris-

summary : you nad george take a trip to paris on christmas...

PAIRINGS : george russell x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : I hope that you had a great boxing day loves!

masterlist ; DECEMBER MASTERLIST 24’ 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The soft glow of the Christmas lights in the streets of Paris reflected off the cobblestone pathways as you and George Russell strolled hand in hand through the heart of the city. The crisp winter air was filled with the smell of freshly baked croissants and hot chocolate, the sound of distant carolers singing, and the hum of excited voices as the city itself seemed to celebrate the season.

It was your first Christmas together as an engaged couple, and you had decided to make it extra special. Paris. The City of Love. What could be more perfect for the two of you than experiencing the holiday season in this magical city?

George had his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you a little closer to him as the chill of the air nipped at your skin. His warm breath brushed against your cheek as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “This feels like a dream, doesn’t it?”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his voice. “It really does. I can’t believe we’re here, together. I feel like the luckiest person in the world.”

“Me too,” George said, his eyes softening as he met your gaze. The spark in his eyes, the way he looked at you with so much love, always made you feel like you were the only one in the world. “Paris, Christmas, and you. Perfect combination.”

You both laughed, the sound blending seamlessly with the hustle and bustle of the holiday crowd around you. The whole city felt alive—like it was wrapped in a blanket of joy, with everyone walking a little slower, savoring the season a little more. It was everything you’d dreamed of.

You wandered through the Christmas markets, sampling local treats and sipping hot mulled wine as the aroma of roasted chestnuts lingered in the air. George, always playful, insisted on trying every type of pastry he could find, laughing as he handed you a fresh éclair with a grin. “Might as well have dessert for lunch, right?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you teased, taking the éclair from his hand and taking a bite. The rich chocolate melted in your mouth, and you smiled at him. “I think you’re just looking for an excuse to eat all the sweets.”

He shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “Maybe. But I’m not complaining. This is the best part of the holiday season.”

The two of you continued walking, your laughter echoing around the market. After exploring the shops, you both made your way towards the Seine River, where the famous Christmas lights glimmered off the water.

George squeezed your hand, and you stopped by a bridge, leaning over the railing to take in the breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance, shining brightly against the night sky. The magic of Paris had fully taken hold of you both.

“Can we take a picture?” you asked, pulling out your phone.

George grinned, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your waist. You stood together, his cheek pressed against yours as you snapped a photo. The moment felt perfect—your engagement, the Christmas season, and Paris surrounding you like something out of a fairy tale.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” George whispered, his voice low and sincere.

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat. He always knew how to make you feel like the most special person in the world, no matter where you were or what you were doing. “I can’t wait either,” you whispered back, your voice full of emotion.

George’s hand cupped your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he leaned in and kissed you softly, a kiss that felt like everything. Time slowed as you wrapped your arms around him, the world around you fading away. This moment, here in Paris, with the love of your life, felt like the beginning of everything.

As you pulled away, George smiled down at you, his eyes still full of warmth and affection. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” he said, his voice full of wonder.

You nodded, your eyes sparkling with the same sentiment. “Me too.”

Later that night, after dinner at a cozy French bistro, the two of you wandered back to your hotel, hand in hand. You both stood in front of the grand Christmas tree in the lobby, marveling at the decorations, the lights twinkling in your eyes.

As you gazed up at the tree, George turned to you, his face serious for a moment before a gentle smile tugged at his lips. “So, how about we make a deal?” he asked, taking your hands in his.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A deal?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “How about every Christmas, we come to Paris? Just you and me, and maybe a few pastries, of course. What do you say?”

You laughed, feeling your heart swell. “I think I’d love that,” you replied, squeezing his hands. “I don’t think we can ever top this.”

George laughed along with you, his expression softening as he pulled you into his arms for one more hug. “As long as I’m with you, we’ll always make Christmas special.”

You closed your eyes, resting your head on his shoulder as you stood there, the warmth of his embrace making you feel like the world was at peace. This was the perfect Christmas.

This was your dream. And you knew that, no matter where you were or what the future held, you’d always cherish the memories of this magical time in Paris with George.

As you pulled back to look at him, he smiled, his eyes full of love. “Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow’s another day in Paris, and we’ve got a lifetime of Christmases ahead of us.”

“Together,” you whispered, the weight of his words sinking into your heart.

“Together,” he repeated, leaning down to kiss you once more before heading upstairs to your room, hand in hand.

And as you lay in bed that night, listening to the quiet of the city outside and the steady rhythm of George’s breathing beside you, you couldn’t help but smile.

This Christmas was everything you’d hoped for and more—filled with love, laughter, and the promise of many more holidays to come.

[crowleysgirl56]

One last Crowleysgirl in New York post (for now). Today I wandered the high line, which was just breathtaking with the spectacular views and the amazing history of the old rail.

What does it have to do with Good Omens I hear you ask? Well, if you’ve read @cemeteryangel725 latest fic I Wish I Had a River then you might have some idea. (This fic is part two of Down To The River which everyone simply has to go and read right now! It’s so gorgeous!)

Slight spoilers under the cut.

I took this photo in what I think is THE spot. @cemeteryangel725 did I get it right?

I feel a little silly but I honestly got a bit teary standing here. But like, joyful tears.

I’ve had such an incredible journey though. And glad that I can bring my Good Omens fandom love along with me.

[adanaac]

hey you know that mandragora photo the anime account posted earlier today

my geoguesser-pilled ass took one look at it and went "i bet thats findable". theres a couple notable landmarks: the river, the sports stadium floodlights, that weird scaffolding tower, the antenna tower, and also this style of railing is pretty unusual

so i spent the past hour on google maps and behold! i actually found the spot!

i believe this is roughly the spot the photo was taken from!

google street view doesn't have a great angle for this stretch of the river, and its also outdated and from 2022, but if you look at the other side of the river from here it does have the right railings, down to the rectangle base (if you head south down the river the railing looks similar but has an oval base)

heres another pic a couple steps from that first spot that shows the landmarks better, though that first spot is probably the spot the photo was taken from because 1: it's at the entrance ramp and 2: the scaffold tower lines up with the middle floodlight in the right way

heres googles satellite projection

does any of this mean anything? does this location mean anything? absolutely not! theres like no offices nearby or anything and i would hope this isnt anyone's house! (oops) ive just been geoguessrpilled since kyoto arc and this was fun

[thekadster]

such a pretty house (a silent hill 2 oneshot)

Fandom: Silent Hill 2

Word Count: 1,304

Content Warnings: Grief, mourning

Summary:

James didn’t really know what he wanted anymore. He wanted her—he always would. But he had been given a second chance. (Or: James' inner thoughts about grief and parenting after he adopts Laura)

also read it on ao3!

Of course he’d have nights like these again.

Black and white static flickered on the TV, gentle shapes dancing across James’ face. The channel had gone dead while he was asleep. Now, he was sitting on the couch, hunched over, propped up by his elbows on his thighs. He stared at some distant point on the carpet. The house stood as silent as the grave, save for the falling and rising of his chest.

The noise in his ears brought a certain solace; it seeped into his mind, filling in tiny networks of cracks and fissures. It reminded him of the sea. It had been ages since he went to the beach. The last time he’d gone was with…

Ah, there it is.

A familiar ache bloomed in his chest. He used to wince at the sensation, but these past few weeks might as well have been years. Guilt and shame had become two of his best friends and worst enemies. Ever faithful like the stars, they never failed to remind him that they were always there, looking out for him. That he could turn to them—whether he wanted to or not.

James didn’t really know what he wanted anymore. He wanted her—he always would. Gods, how he wished she were here. He could almost imagine the weight of the couch shift beside him. Maybe, if he stayed still like this for long enough, he could feel her hand on his shoulder, hear her whisper to him.

But heaven knows he lost his chance. They lost their chance.

No matter what they did, perhaps it was always going to end this way.

“James?”

He nearly jumped at the sound. Looking up, he saw Laura standing in the doorway. His gaze softened. “Laura, what are you doing up so late?”

“I just wanted a glass of water,” she answered, holding the half-empty glass in question. “What are you doing up so late?”

James paused, glancing away for a moment. “I fell asleep.” He switched off the TV. “I was just watching something.”

Even in the dim light, he could tell Laura wasn’t entirely buying it. A pit settled in his stomach; this kid had been able to see right through him since the day they first met.

“I bet you haven’t brushed your teeth yet.” She took a few steps towards him. “I bet your breath smells gross.”

The beginnings of a smile appeared on his face. “Lucky guess.”

“Ew!” she laughed, the sound bubbling through the room. Even with her mockery, it helped lift James’ spirits slightly.

He shook his head. “I’ll be up soon, you go on back to bed.”

But she remained there, taking a few more moments to look at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it. “Are you okay?”

His heart skipped a beat. Such an innocent question froze his world in its tracks. “Yeah, just… tired.”

Laura may have been young, but both of them knew she wasn’t stupid. The lines on his face, the grain in his voice, the burden in his eyes—they told enough. It didn’t take an eight-year-old to figure it out.

“Okay,” she mumbled. She stepped back and gave him a little wave. “Well… goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, returning the gesture.

Once the pitter patter of her feet faded away, his eyes scanned the room. His mind lingered on the girl’s gaze. He hadn’t expected nor wanted her to see him like that, especially not after the hotel. He couldn’t help but wonder how he looked through her eyes back then—what monster did she see?

Did she see it again tonight?

James heaved a sigh as he leaned back in his seat. His eyes landed on a framed photo on top of the television. He swallowed a lump in his throat. The picture was of him and Mary, posing together next to some railing overlooking a river. He remembered that day—the sun in their eyes, the ice cream, the big blue sky. They got lost on the way there; in classic husband fashion, he’d insisted he didn’t need the map. After they spent ten minutes in the winding forest and missed the turn two towns over, she eventually convinced him to follow it. Frustration and reprimand were evident in her voice, but neither of them stayed mad about it. It was their day, after all. Mistakes happen, and they’d only lost so much time. As the sun went down, they laughed about it on the way home.

Now, he didn’t even have a map. He’d never felt so out of place in his—their house before. They had long dreamed of having a child, and in some twisted way, James had gotten his wish. He wondered what she’d say now, what she’d tell him to do. She knew Laura better than he did, anyway. All while he stewed in his own impatience and hate, the two forged a connection greater than anything he could ever hope to see. In what little time Mary had left, she made a family of a stranger. And he never bothered to notice.

But that didn’t matter now. He’d been given a second chance, thrust back into a world now both familiar and foreign. While Silent Hill still sometimes haunted him in the unholy hours of the night—visions of the park, the nurses, that damned pyramid-headed freak—it couldn’t hurt him anymore (physically, at least). He had stepped into that town and walked away alive—and with company, too.

For himself and Laura, all they had now was each other. After the nightmare was over, she had nowhere to go, no one waiting for her, and he couldn’t bear to leave her alone. It took a while to organize the adoption papers, but she was now a Sunderland. Still, he knew well that she had her own reservations about him. He didn’t expect her to totally forgive him for what he did to Mary. Truth be told, neither did he.

Her letter sat safely in his bedside drawer. He hadn’t reread it since he got home; he felt he would crumple instantly. All the same, whenever James needed her the most, it always rang out to him. It wrapped its arms around him, laid its head on his shoulder, traced the bags under his eyes with gentle thumbs. Every line, every letter reached out to hold his hand, to remind him that their marriage, while doomed, remained a wonderful thing. That he had her blessing to go on.

And so, with trembling limbs and gritted teeth, he would. Come hell or high water, he was determined to fulfill her final wish. Though he was still reeling from the fact that he was now technically a father, he resolved in his heart of hearts that he was going to give Laura the best damn childhood he could. He’d take her to school, help her with homework even when he may not understand it. He wanted to eat ice cream with her on a sunny day, to walk with her in the rain, to hold her when times got harder. He would make sure her glass would always run over.

The future was wide open, almost swallowing him whole. His sins had shattered all he knew into angry, dreadful shards. But he continued onward, stepping over jagged fragments. Day by day, he would pick up the pieces, even as they cut his fingers, and reassemble what he could. His chest stung at the very thought, but at least he knew that grief wore the same face as love. Part of him was glad it smiled at him at all.

James was going to live for himself, and for others. James was going to live.

But first, he needed to sleep.

[kimberly40]

“The House on the Rock” on the North Toe River in the Lunday community in Mitchell County, North Carolina before and during Hurricane Helene. The house is still sitting on the rock and the water got that high!

The house was built in 1910 and was the former W. Bristo Ellis Store and Post Office. The store was supplied by rail. A swinging bridge was located on one side of the house and the railroad was on the other side.

(Photo shared by Amy Readling Shaffer)

[bullet-prooflove]

Photo Finish: Douglas Hamilton x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lucymalfoy18 @ashrionest @mimi-8793 @glamourous-eloquence

Companion piece:

Mississippi Meanders - Douglas doesn't expect to meet the love of his life.

Pedestal - Douglas puts you on a pedestal, much to his detriment.

The Prettiest Damn Thing - Douglas regrets having to leave the morning after.

Something Special - You decide to give Douglas something special after you notice how stressed he is.

Games - You decide to distract Douglas.

Martha’s looking for a pen in Douglas’s desk when she finds the photographs in his top drawer. They’re glossy, black  and white pictures of him at home in situ.

Sitting pensively by the fire, a notepad on his lap.

Chopping vegetables with that handsome smile on his features.

Standing in the mirror, watching his reflection as he ties his tie.

All of them are Douglas Hamilton captured in the moment, completely unguarded.

She knows it’s you that has taken them. She’s seen your work before, studied it diligently ever since the image of the Mississippi Meanders appeared on his desk in a matching black photo frame. You’re an exceptional photographer, she can’t fault that and the level of intimacy and vulnerability in these images…

You can’t get from staged scenes.

It’s exactly what she needs for the People’s Mayor segment running in The New Orleans Tribune supplement later this week. A way to show the masses that their mayor is a person, just like the rest of them.

When the article is released you smile when get the notification on your phone. You’ve set up a Google alert because you like to read the positive ones out to him to remind him of all the excellent work he’s doing when he’s having a shitty day.  

It’s when you see the pictures that your heart sinks. You scroll through every single one of them and the ache in your chest, it just grows because these images they’re meant to be private, a gift you gave to Douglas so he could see himself the way that you do.

You pause as you study the final one. Douglas’s tousled hair from the night you’d spent together, his sensual smile as he looked up at you, his back against the headboard. A minute after this picture was taken he’d tugged at the shirt you were wearing, drawing you back into his lap.

Noone was meant to see this side of him, it was meant to be yours and yours only. That’s why it’s hurts so badly, to know that he’s taken something so important to you and used it as part of his campaign.

You don’t respond to Douglas’s texts for the rest of the day because you can’t stand the sight of his name when it appears on your phone.

He comes to find you when you don’t turn up at his place that night. The two of you have a longstanding arrangement, you come over on a Thursday and he cooks for you. By nine o’clock he's concerned he’s not heard from you so he grabs his coat and drives to the museum.

He finds you standing on the bridge where the two of you first met, looking over the river as the lights from the city twinkle over the water. You don’t ask him how he got into the sculpture garden, you know being the mayor has it’s perks, that your head of security is a big fan.

“I’ve missed you today.” He says as he takes up residence beside you, his elbows coming it rest on the railing. “You haven’t been returning my texts, you didn’t show up at the house for dinner…”

“You used the pictures I gave you.” You say, your tone practically glacial.

He’s never heard you sound like that, so cold, so distant.

“Martha found them.” He tells you as he clasps his hands together. “She thought they’d make me seem more personable so she submitted them to the magazine.”

“Did you know?” You ask him, tilting your head so that you can study his features. “Did you know that she was going to use them?”

“Not until the article ran this morning.” He tells you rubbing one palm over the other. “They did the job they were supposed to…”

You jaw clenches and your swallow hard against the emotion that raises up in your throat because that’s what your relationship have been reduced to. A marketing tool, a way of making Douglas seem more likeable.

“Nothing is really ours is it?” You say, your knuckles turning white as you grip the railing of the bridge. “All of it is just one big marketing campaign, a way of making you seem more personable to your constituents. ”

Douglas sighs as he stares down at his hands.

“You knew what you were getting into.” He says, his voice pained.

“I can’t live like this.” You tell him resolutely. “I can’t have a relationship where the things I say or do can be leaked to the press by your publicist everytime she feels like your ratings need a boost. I’d ask you to fire her but…”

You trail off then and Douglas refuses to meet your gaze, confirming what you’ve always suspected. He needs Martha, her connections, her ingenuity, her ruthlessness. After all she was the reason that he got elected, that he wields all this power.

“I need to go lock up.” You say, pushing away from the railing.

“I’ll wait.” He says and you shake your head.

“No, you won’t.” You say as you tuck your hands into the pockets of your overcoat and begin to walk away. “We’re done Douglas, I don’t want to see you anymore.”

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[vox-anglosphere]

To think 1700 men had steady work at the height of the Depression

Queensway Tunnel lies underneath the River Mersey in Liverpool and was designed by engineer Sir Basil Mott.

It opened to the public on 18 July 1934 by King George V to an audience of around 200,000 people.

It was a masterpiece of engineering and craftsmanship, taking around 1,700 workers to construct the tunnel that connects Birkenhead to Liverpool City Centre.