#Union City Trail

[formeryelpers]

Tidewater Park, 30694 Tidewater Dr Union City, CA 94587

Tidewater Park is located in the Tidewater residential community. The homes there are older but fairly nice. The park seems to be very small but it connects to the entrance of the Union City trail. The boundaries are a bit unclear but the park seems to consist of a gazebo, walking path, weeds, a playground, and a wooden bridge that crosses the Alameda Creek. There are some flowers and trees but no one has trimmed the weeds recently. The weeds are overgrown. I also kept seeing swarms of tiny flies.

The park is so small that it’s only worthy of two stars. However, you can extend your walk by crossing over the bridge. There are some interesting birds that live in the creek area.

The park is flat and so is the paved path near the creek. I crossed over the train tracks to continue my walk along the creek and when I exited, the sign said no trespassing. I didn’t even realize I had trespassed. I spotted homeless encampments along the train tracks. The creek area has weeds that are taller than I am.

2 out of 5 stars

By Lolia S.

[autotrails]

American Auto Trail-Oregon Trail (Union to Baker City OR)

American Auto Trail-Oregon Trail (Union to Baker City OR) https://youtu.be/bNjfnQss7-0 This American auto trail explores the old route of U.S. Highway 30 from Union to North Powder, Oregon. At North Powder, the route follows U.S. 30 into Baker City.

[courtofblooming]

favorite elriel quotes ! 💭ྀིྀིྀ

art by: stephdaydreams & trxxvon_

“A faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork, but he kept silent” — acomaf

“Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly? “Yes. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.” “That’s very beautiful,” she said — acomaf

“And I think Elain — Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.” “I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together.” — acomaf

“Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. He, too, wore his Illyrian armor, Elain’s golden-brown hair snagging in some of the black scales across his chest and shoulders.” — acowar

“He set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door. Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face. Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” — acowar

“She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breadth of his shoulders. The wings peeking over them. But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded — just once.” — acowar

“Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” — acowar

“Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.” — acowar

“Already dressed for the Hewn City — the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it. “Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” — acowar

“What if — I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden —“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?” — acowar

“Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand.” — acowar

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now — unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.” — acowar

“It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.” — acowar

“While shadows gathered around Azriel, Elain at his side, wide-eyed at the spymaster’s display.” — acowar

“But Azriel asked softly, “What about Elain?” “From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” — acowar

“Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.” — acowar

“I shifted my face back into my own, raising a hand to my lips as Azriel knelt before her.” “Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?” “She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head.” — acowar

“Azriel scooped up Elain, looping her bound arms around his neck. “Hold tight,” he ordered her, “and don’t make a sound.” — acowar

“The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest.” — acowar

“Rhys lunged for Azriel, taking Elain from him and gently setting my sister down. Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, “We need Helion to get these chains off her.” Yet Elain didn’t seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger’s cheek.” — acowar

“Azriel, still limping, merely nudged aside Cassian and extended another option. “This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.” “Elain’s eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel’s scarred hand. The runes on the dark scabbard.” — acowar

“It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.” — acowar

“Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade — Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.” — acowar

“Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade.” “I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.” — acowar

“That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.” — acowar

“Don’t,” Elain said flatly, starting once more into a walk, veils of steam drifting past her shoulders from the roasted rosemary potatoes in her hands, as if they were Azriel’s shadows. “She won’t listen.” — acofas

“But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.” One moment, his hand was spearing toward the serving spoon. The next, it was stopped, Azriel’s scarred fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Wait,” Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice.” — acofas

“Elain swept in, apron gone and hair rebraided. “Please don’t wait on my account,” she said, taking the seat at the head of the table.” — acofas

“The shadowsinger was clad in a black jacket and pants similar to Rhysand’s — He still wore his Siphons atop either hand, and shadows trailed his footsteps, curling like swirled embers. Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy Solstice.” Elain turned from the snow falling in the darkness beyond and smiled slightly. “I’ve never participated in one of these.” — acofas

“The shadowsinger’s brows lifted, but his scarred hand extended to take the present. Elain turned from where she’d been speaking to Nesta. “Oh, that’s from me.” “I had Madja make it for me,” Elain explained. Azriel’s brows narrowed at the mention of the family’s preferred healer. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” — acofas

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.” — acofas

“Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous. Cassian and Rhys joined him, the former grabbing the glass bottle from Azriel’s hand and examining it. “Brilliant,” Cassian said. — acofas

“Elain smiled again, ducking her head. Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.” — acofas

“It was three by the time the others went to bed. Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight.” — acofas

“Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened.” — acosf

“Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain's face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.” — acosf

“Feyre said, “We won’t allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times.” “Eyes can be blinded,” Nesta said. “Not the ones under my command,” Azriel said with soft menace.” — acosf

“Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.” — acosf

“Nesta met the shadowsinger's stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain's breath caught slightly.” — acosf

“The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat.” — acosf

“Az tried not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift. She hadn't bought her mate a present. But she'd gotten Azriel one last year — a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he'd slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.” — acosf

“Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.” — acosf

“But tonight, here in the dark and quiet, with no one to see...He pulled the small velvet box from the shadows around him. Opened it for her.” — acosf

“The golden necklace seemed ordinary — its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.” — acosf

“It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?" — acosf

“His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.” — acosf

“He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took a long time fastening the clasp.” — acosf

“It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. Wrong - it was so wrong. He didn't care.” — acosf

“He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue” — acosf

“Elain bit her lower lip, and it took every ounce of Azriel's restraint to keep from putting his own teeth there.” "I should go," Elain said, but made no move to leave. “Yes," he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.” — acosf

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. But Azriel just stroked her neck again.” — acosf

“Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things far beyond their scars.” — acosf

"Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.” — acosf

“Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.” “Offer and permission.” — acosf

“Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.”

“But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.”

“He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.” — acosf

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?"

"The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” — acosf

the end.

[afeelgoodblog]

Best News of Last Week - July 3, 2023

🐕 - This dog is 'disc'-overing hidden treasures! Get ready for the 'paws'-itively successful fundraiser, Daisy's Discs!

1. Most unionized US rail workers now have new sick leave

More than 60% of U.S. unionized railroad workers at major railroads are now covered by new sick leave agreements, a trade group said Monday.

Last year railroads came under fire for not agreeing to paid sick leave during labor negotiations.

2. Missing teen found after being lost in the wilderness for 50 hours

Esther Wang, 16, had been hiking with three other people through the Maple Ridge park on Tuesday.

The group made it to Steve’s lookout around 2:45 p.m. that day.However, when they headed back down to the campsite, after about 15 minutes of hiking, the group leader realized Wang was missing. They returned to the lookout to look for Wang but couldn’t find her. The leader headed to the trail entrance to notify a park ranger and police.

“Esther Wang has been located. She’s healthy, she is happy and she’s with family.”

3. A dog has retrieved 155 discs from woods. They’ll be on sale soon, with proceeds going to the park in West Virginia where they were found

Meet Daisy, the yellow Labrador retriever with a unique talent for finding lost Frisbee golf discs at Grand Vue Park in West Virginia. Four years ago, while on a walk with her owner Kelly Mason, Daisy discovered a disc in the woods and proudly brought it back. Since then, Daisy's obsession with finding stray discs has grown, and she has collected an impressive cache of 155 discs.

Mason and park officials have now come up with a plan to return the discs to their owners if they are labeled, and any unclaimed discs will be sold as a fundraiser to support the park's disc golf courses. Daisy's Discs is expected to be a success, with many excited about the possibility of recovering their lost discs thanks to Daisy's remarkable skills.

4. Australian earless dragon last seen in 1969 rediscovered in secret location

A tiny earless dragon feared to be extinct in the wild has been sighted for the first time in more than 50 years – at a location that is being kept secret to help preservation efforts.

The Victorian grassland earless dragon, Tympanocryptis pinguicolla, has now been rediscovered in the state, according to a joint statement issued by the Victorian and federal Labor governments on Sunday.

5. Detroit is going to power 100% of its municipal buildings with solar

All of Detroit’s municipal buildings are going to be powered by neighborhood solar as part of the city’s efforts to combat climate change – check out the city’s cool grassroots plan. Meet Detroit Rock Solar City.

The city has determined that it’s going to need around 250 acres of solar panels in order to achieve 100% solar power for its municipal buildings.

6. Canada Officially Bans Cosmetic Testing on Animals

The fight for cruelty-free beauty in Canada has seen a significant breakthrough as the Canadian government legislates a full ban on cosmetic animal testing and trade, marking a victory for Animal rights advocates and eco-conscious consumers.

This landmark decision is part of the Budget Implementation Act (Bill C-47), not only prohibiting cosmetic animal testing but also putting an end to the sale of cosmetics that use new animal testing data for safety substantiation.

7. Belize certified malaria-free by WHO

The World Health Organization (WHO) has certified Belize as malaria-free, following the country’s over 70 years of continued efforts to stamp out the disease.

“WHO congratulates the people and government of Belize and their network of global and local partners for this achievement”, said Dr Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, WHO Director-General. “Belize is another example of how, with the right tools and the right approach, we can dream of a malaria-free future.”

----

That's it for this week :)

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[azrielslightintheshadows]

Heyoo! Can i request az x reader where they're mates and vowed to each other that till death do them apart. But az started questioning if he would die for his mate ever since elain came into picture, bcos of the 3 brothers for 3 sisters thing. And reader sort of found out about az's feelings and wanted time off from each other. Then all of a sudden war broke out in the court and everything was crazy. Reader went out to look for az making sure he is safe when she saw an arrow shot towards him and reader took the hit for az. And az started to regret his doubt in thie relationship and begging for his mate's forgiveness. Major angst pls and the ending is up to you! Thank you and have a great day 💖

Scattered Vows.

Azriel x f!Reader

Warnings; way too much angst, mentions of death and battle. Mental illness.

Masterlist.

Part 2

Uhm my heart broke. I think you will need a tissue box.

You watched the door of your bedroom for what felt like hours. A sigh escaped your lips, and you pressed your head on your mate’s pillow, his scent so faint like he hadn’t slept in your bed for weeks. And he probably hadn’t, you couldn’t remember the last time he stayed in bed for more than three hours.

The city was bright and warm offering a perfect view from the hill you were currently standing on. Your friends’ eyes were filled with tears as they watched you and your mate standing in front of the priestess.

“What do you vow to each other?” She asked.

“I vow to be by your side, protecting you and loving you until my last breath.” Azriel’s eyes watered as he spoke, his scarred hands grabbed your own and he pressed a soft kiss on your skin.

“I vow to always support you and love you. To always shield you from any harm, heck I would even take an arrow for you.” You chuckled and Azriel smiled.

“May the Mother bless this union and let it bloom like the most precious flowers” the priestess shouted and started murmuring a prayer.

“I love you my angel” Azriel whispered.

“I love you” you whispered back as the tears streamed down your face.

You teared up at the memory. Those vows meant something right? Even though he reeked of jasmine when he came back, he loved you right?

You heard the door open, and your mate’s footsteps filled the silence, making you wipe your tears and sit up. He removed his boots to not wake you and you suppressed the urge to scoff, you slowly slipped out of bed and walked down the hall to find him.

He was standing at the middle of the kitchen watching the two cold plates on the table with a frown.

“You’re here” you noted, and he glanced at you.

“Please don’t start I’m not in the mood.” He huffed.

“Don’t start what Azriel? You stood me up AGAIN” you threw your hands in the air.

“Fine you want to do this now? Okay” he yelled, and you flinched.

Azriel had never raised his voice at you, it was one of the things you loved about him, how you could always talk things out without wrecking your vocal cords.

“Where were you?” You asked and stepped closer.

“I had to finish some reports” he replied and you stepped even closer making him back off, you quirked a brow knowing exactly why he did it and marched to him sniffing. Jasmine.

Your hands clenched into fists, and you growled “you were finishing off reports or Elain’s cunt?”

His eyes widened and he bared his teeth “don’t speak for her like that”.

Your heart broke into million pieces, every fear suddenly felt real and deep down you realized that the union bloomed like a beautiful flower, but in Elain’s garden.

“You’re defending her?” You gaped at him, your face pale.

“I can’t do this anymore y/n. Lately I’ve been thinking about everything and especially our vows…” he trailed off and you felt like his feet were stepping over the pieces of your heart, crushing them into even smaller fragments.

“Go on” you whispered and let the tears escape.

“I’ve been thinking about Cassian and Rhys…they are mated with two of the sisters and I wonder if I should be mated to the third one. Three brothers and three sisters.” He explained and his eyes watered.

“What?” You asked him.

“I just don’t feel like I want to protect you until my last breath…. Because I can’t protect both of you at the same time…” he avoided your eyes

“You want to protect her until your last breath” you whispered and he nodded.

“Okay, please pack your things and leave.” You continued.

“Don’t do this” he breathed “I’m so confused, I’m not even sure if this is what I want. I just spend time with her to see if I’m really interested or if it’s just a sick thought”

“You want me to stay with you until you decide which one you want?” You gasped at his nerve.

“I-i don’t know. Can we just take a break? I won’t touch her I promise I just need some time to think.” He pleaded.

You felt numb, and an adamant wall fell on your side of the bond, blocking him entirely.

You just wanted to be alone, you didn’t have any more power to argue. “Okay. Pack your things and leave and we will speak again when you make your decision.” You lied hoping it will get him out of the house as soon as possible.

“Thank you” he gave you a sad smile and walked into your bedroom. The small cottage you two had built a few months before the ceremony felt empty and dull now as every promise of love died slowly.

You covered your mouth with your palm to keep the sobs in as you clenched your eyes shut and let the tears flow. Azriel reached the door with a small bag thrown over his shoulder and glanced back at you. You turned your back on him and waited to hear the door shutting.

“I’ll be back” he promised and left.

When you couldn’t hear the beating sound of his wings anymore you let it all out, a heartbreaking scream wrecked your throat and you dropped on your knees. Every kiss, every touch, every promise pierced your skin and escaped to the darkness of the sky.

You remained on the kitchen floor for two days, letting every feeling out hoping that it would stop hurting so bad. You reached a point of numbness, where even your love for him was dull now, cursing at yourself for trusting him. He had your fragile heart in his hands, and he crushed it into mist, without a care, without a hint of regret. You pictured him in her arms and rage made your body tremble, you despised her even though it wasn’t her fault. She sure was a wicked female for leading on a mated male but then again why should she care? He was the one who should have said no.

A booming sound pulled you out of your thoughts and you felt the ground shaking making you furrow your eyebrows and peek out the window. Velaris' shield was gone, you couldn’t feel the magic anymore and winged creatures descended from the sky, slaughtering everyone in their path. The autumn court’s banners emerged from the mountains, with an army behind them. You gasped and quickly grabbed a dagger, running out of the cottage and winnowing to the main square, Feyre and Mor were there holding swords and shouting at people to hide.

“Where’s Azriel?” you shouted at Feyre.

“He….” She paused “He took Elain out of the city, he’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You shook your head, not letting your family’s betrayal cloud your senses. They knew and they supported them, like you never existed.

You ran towards the creatures letting all your feelings out as you sliced their necks, your vision clouding and the image of Azriel flying Elain to safety was the only thing you could see. You crouched and placed your hand on the ground screaming, your eyes became white, and your power flowed out of you, destroying creatures and buildings on its way. You gasped for air and glanced around you, Azriel had landed a few steps behind you, his eyes wide as he stared at you and what you did. You noticed a creature lurking in the corner with a bow in its hands, it grabbed an arrow and pointed it to your mate making your face pale.

“Az” you screamed and ran… ran like your life depended on it, the arrow was shot, Azriel whipped his head to the direction, and you jumped, using the remaining power to lunge yourself in front of him. Silence, deafening silence, a cry, pain, fear and darkness.

Azriel watched the arrow piercing your skin and the tip emerging from your back.

“I vow to always support you and love you. To always shield you from any harm, heck I would even take an arrow for you.” It rang in his mind.

“I would even take an arrow for you.” He cried out your name.

"I would even take an arrow for you.” “Stop” he ordered himself.

“I would even take an arrow for you.” He grabbed his head, his hands covering his ears.

“I would even take an arrow for you.” “No” he screamed and started hitting his head.

“I vow to be by your side, protecting you and loving you until my last breath.” He fell on his knees.

“Lately I’ve been thinking about everything and especially our vows… I just don’t feel like I want to protect you until my last breath…. Because I can’t protect both of you at the same time…”  Darkness.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel woke up with a groan, he was in his room in the house of wind. He glanced around and noticed Elain sitting on a chair by his bed, her hand holding his own.

He stirred a bit and pulled his hand back making her flinch and open her eyes.

“Az” she whispered and tried to pull him in her arms.

“No! Where is she?” he shouted.

Rhysand entered his room and nodded at Elain to get out.

“Rhys where is she?” Azriel raised his voice again.

“Calm down, you need to rest, your shadows almost strangled you to death” his brother spoke.

“What? Why?” he gaped.

Rhys sighed “I went into your mind while you were asleep, you ordered them to strangle you because you wanted the thoughts to go away”.

Azriel’s eyes watered “Where is she? I have to go to her, I have to apologize. I need to beg her not to leave me”.

“I’m sorry brother, you’ve been out for five days. We couldn’t wait any longer so we buried her at the garden of your cottage”

“No!” Azriel screamed “No no no”

“I vow to always support you and love you. To always shield you from any harm, heck I would even take an arrow for you.”  “NO” he screamed again as his body started seizing.

“Lately I’ve been thinking about everything and especially our vows… I just don’t feel like I want to protect you until my last breath…. Because I can’t protect both of you at the same time…”  “Make it stop, please make it stop” he cried out.

Rhysand quickly moved to his side and grabbed his head making him go to sleep again.

“I’m sorry brother” he whispered and glanced at Feyre who was standing at the door, tears were streaming down her face.

“It’s done” she informed him and let him in her mind.

“Are you sure you want to do this y/n?” She asked you.

“Yes, this is for the best. Just tell him I’m dead.” You replied.

“Okay, please take care of her.” She spoke.

“I will, I promise to give her a place in my court” Eris nodded.

“Thank you” Feyre replied, “for everything, we wouldn’t defeat Beron without you”.

“It was my pleasure” Eris smirked and grabbed your hand.

Feyre let a tear slip as she watched you disappearing with Eris.

“Do you think he will survive this?” She asked Rhysand.

“I doubt it.” He sighed and they walked out, closing the door and locking it.

Sorry <3

[wannabepoeticischiya]

if I can stop one heart from breaking

[ 01 ] — the offer

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He existed in the morning dew, in the afternoon haze, within the illusions of twilight. He was there. In the silence of midnight, in the wake of dawn... he was there.

Hoshina Soushiro was everywhere... except right here. He existed in every corner of the cosmos-just not in the space beside her.

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f! reader genre: romance, angst wc: 46.5k status: completed art by: keumza on twitter

“Hoshina-dono, thank you for accepting.”

“Nonsense, Uehara-san! The union between our clans will open many opportunities for the future!”

Empty-eyed, the offering of the Uehara Clan stared far off into yonder: tired, hopeless, shackled by the thought that this would be nothing but a marriage of convenience—and it will. One that is fated to leave her on her death bed, reminiscing memories of unhappiness and regret, leaving in her wake a catastrophe of regrets; plagued by the thought of what it could have been—who she could have become—the life she could have been living… if only she had done things differently.

If only you did not come to me that day…

The Uehara heir was not ignorant; often being told that she was too intuitive for her own good—that her own self self-assurance would one day be her downfall.

So, when her father had called upon her that fateful day, she knew that the fate her family had set for her would soon begin, and she would—without question nor reluctance—obey what they wished.

Because that is what they expected of her.

… if only you had left me to this cruel fate.

As twilight faded and the canvas overhead was dyed with midnight, life echoed by the city stilled into silence within the grounds of the Hoshina estate. The late winter breeze rustled the undergrowth that littered the gardens, taking the blossoms of the cherry trees into a never-ending waltz towards the horizons of the sky. Moonlight flooded through the cracks left by the clouds, flowing like water over the cheerless hue painted upon the face of a girl still restless at this unearthly hour. Slender fingers trapping a handful of golden fabric in between their grip, soiling her once pristine kimono.

“Who are you?”

Without a single second to spare, the woman had crossed the distance separating her from the intruder—nothing but a knife to his throat standing in between them.

[Name] swore she could feel her heart itching to escape from its entrapment, her blood circulating far too fast for her head to catch up—her weapon, slowly but surely, crossing the gap to meet the flesh of the poor soul that had carelessly walked in on her, stopping only when the voice raised once more to put a halt to her intentions.

“Hey—Hey! Relax. I only asked who you were…”

Urgency rippled in the waters of her stomach, certainly not having expected such a warm tone to flow from the lips of the trespasser. The Uehara heir expected a nosy servant, or at the direst of situations—an assassin. A frightened protest or even a calm proclamation would’ve been the anticipated outcome, certainly not… whatever this is.

[Name]’s gaze lingered on her hands that threatened to take the life of the person before her, rising like fireworks on New Year’s Eve; painting the abyssal canvas overhead with their trails of fire, disappearing momentarily into the heavens, leaving silence in their wake—only for them to burst forth into multitudes of color. Illuminating the darkened sky even if it was for just a few moments.

And she felt the same.

[Name]’s kaleidoscope of colors exploded at the sight of him. Moonlight shaded his face in a warm hue, decorating the eyes that looked at her with a thousand glimmers, as though the stars nestled in the depths of the cosmos were made just so they could replicate the shimmer in his irises. Threads of violet covered the distance above his forehead, swaying with the gentle gale gifted by the season of autumn. Carved upon his lips was an anxious smile as he looked at the weapon pressing against his neck before trailing his gaze to the one holding it.

He did not hold it against the woman that the initial thought she had having discovered his existence was to take his life. How could he? When he had every intention to observe her undetected; failing shortly because he could not stop the foolish question from leaving his curious lips.

It wasn’t every day that a visitor stepped foot into the estate… much less a woman.

Wine-red irises reflected the eyes that glowered at him with such ferocity. Eyes that shone like fire in the darkened room, like they could cover him in warmth yet burn him if they so ever wished. Her hands that looked as though they did not work a single day in their life, smooth with no remnants of scars, but held a blade like they’d known the harsh territory of the enemy.

At the sight of her, he wondered… would they someday slip through his own? Would her fingers twine with his like vines should the threads of fate decide to weave the tapestry of her destiny into his? Would her gaze burn through him and send him to damnation? Or would they envelop him in mellowness for the rest of eternities to come?

“I should be the one asking you that—who are you?” A harsh tone shattered his reverie, dragging him back to reality where he stands with a blade being pressed further into his neck. It split his skin open, and flowers of crimson blossomed into waterfalls—far from the daydreams of his life in happily ever after.

“Did someone send you?” The woman coerced; for every step he took to get away from her blade, she took one equal step forward. And this would progress until he would find himself cornered with nothing but an answer deemed worthy by her as his decree for freedom.

“Mark my words, I will have your head before you even think of stepping foot outside this room.”

As someone from a clan whose prowess lies with the blade, he found it pathetic that he could not get the upper hand in this situation: here, in his own household, with a weapon that was supposed to be his claim to fame now being used to threaten to snuff out his life.

He knew he could overpower her in a single move, one small gesture would’ve been enough to turn the tables in on her. But he stood there, frozen. Like he could be everything, but he still chose not to be anything.

Because for a small moment, it felt like all the hardships and failures he endured to perfect his abilities… had faded into serenity. The tears he shed, his hands that bled for heaven knows how many times, the callouses—scars—wounds—everything… they all dwindled into a dull ache until they remained as nothing but a distant echo. All the hurt and the pain… stilled into silence. Like they didn’t matter… or that he simply had no use for them anymore.

Because when time came to a standstill—there was no Kaiju, no Defense Force, there was nothing to prove, and there was nothing to gain.

There existed only him and her.

In the infinite grandeur of the cosmos, of all the stars and galaxies to have ever formed, every rift in time, the universes he could’ve been born in—here, in this moment… he found her.

“Hey, calm down—” He tried to bargain, attempting to grab the knife from [Name]’s hold. Because despite feeling at ease, she still had a weapon, and he didn’t. But he soon found himself with the world trailing upside down at a rate he was not used to, his front colliding with the floor he stood upon not even a second ago, with just enough luck to not have bitten off his tongue in the process. A weight was dumped on his back, from both the woman and her ridiculously heavy clothing.

“Ack. Ow. Get off. You’re really heavy.” He wheezed, trying to push her off; finding that his limbs were being pressured by her kimono. Seriously, how many layers do those things have?

A rhythmic tune echoed within the four corners of the room, seemingly putting everything to a stop; fleetingly distracting the man submerged in the sea of fabric from his impending demise. The silence stretched on for what felt like forever, before a muffled voice spoke the words, “Uehara-sama? Are you alright? I heard something fall…”

The man underneath [Name] looked towards the door in hopeful glee, glad to have another path paved to liberty. But his sanguine daydream of salvation shattered as a spine-crawling breath rattled his body into full alert.

“Servants.” she whispered, her lips grazing just above the lobe of his ear, the contact sending pins and needles all the way to the tips of his toes. “Now you have nowhere to run. Speak of your intentions and I will give you a painless death.”

“I would—but you’re... you’re crushing my windpipe.” He tapped the floor in desperation; it was an action he saw his opponents would often do. Berating them for being over dramatic, or that they needed to work on their breath control if they lost it to something as measly as being sat on. Now, he was the one feeling the consequences of having his oxygen circulation cut short, and it wasn’t pleasant.

As a last resort for a chance of deliverance, he tried to yell to the other person behind the door, “Aoi—” only to have a cloth intercept his cries for aid.

“Shh.”

“Uehara-sama?” Aoi, or so he had called, remained behind the screens.

[Name] grabbed a fistful of what looked to be violet hair and raised his head to give him a clear view of the door, where the light from the hallway met the closed shoji screens, letting in enough luminescence to see the shadows of the two figures on the floor but dull enough not to be able to put a face to them. “You’re really asking to be killed.”

The head [Name] held by the hair shook in refusal, his vision blurring and clouding over, feeling his chest rise in an erratic manner as he tried to catch the breath he was losing, fast.

Lost in the fields of her thoughts, [Name] failed to hear the warning of the servant behind the door, nor was she quick enough to stop Aoi from sliding it open.

“I’m coming in, my lady—Hoshina-sama?” [Name] stared at the silhouette of the attendant standing by the threshold, startled by both her sudden appearance… and the name that flowed from her tongue.

Did she just say Hoshina?

⟵ prev | master list | next ⟶

pls believe me when I say this was supposed to be a one shot... but someone went overboard someone is me.

[ww2yaoi]

[In honour of Webgott Wednesday, here's the first scene of the other Webgott WIP I have on the go whose working title is too deranged to mention. Anyways, enjoy.]

Spring of 1952. San Francisco, California.

Joe and Web have a tradition.

In the middle of the week, every week, Joe closes up the shop for lunch and meets Web halfway to the Chronicle building in the park across from City Hall. Joe brings sandwiches he buys at the kosher deli next door and they eat and drink coffee and complain about work until their hour is up.

Today is no different. Joe finds Web in their usual spot on a wooden bench by one of the fountains, the afternoon sun beaming down and bathing the pavement in buttery light. Joe loves San Francisco in April. The air is warm and featherlight, the breeze comparatively cool with seaspray, and the soupy summer fog has yet to swallow the Bay whole. Everything feels new after winter’s damp and windy gloom, and Joe is briefly reminded of Austria, of its misty mountains and glass-like lakes. It had been a springtime of rebirth after a long, hard war.

Well, mostly.

Web is always a sight in his well-tailored suits, charcoal gray tweed today, his tie a deep maroon. He’s taken off his jacket and folded it across his knee, the sleeves of his starched white Oxford rolled up to reveal his hirsute forearms. This is his uniform now. The last time Joe saw him in ODs was probably when they disembarked in New York Harbour at the tail end of 1945. He thinks Web might have burned them.

“Hey,” Joe says.

Web beams like they didn’t just see each other this morning. “Hey.”

He hands Joe the cup of coffee that was resting on the bench beside him and Joe sits down in its place. He sets the bag of sandwiches by his feet and grabs Web’s usual order, a pastrami on rye with extra pickles.

“How was the cable car?” Joe asks like he does most weeks, passing Web his sandwich and grabbing his own, corned beef with lots of mustard.

“Swarming with tourists, as per usual,” Web says with a grimace, unwrapping the paper from his sandwich.

Joe smirks. “Y’know, some lifelong San Franciscans would consider you a tourist.”

“Ugh, don’t insult me,” Web says, shooting him a look. He takes a generous bite of his sandwich then talks out of the side of his mouth. “What do they want from me? I’ve lived here for five years.”

“Yeah, but everyone can tell you’re from New York.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you think you’re better than everyone else. The New York wafts off of you like the odour of a finely aged cheese.”

“You did not just compare me to stinky cheese.”

“Hey, I specified ‘finely aged.’ Didn’t I?”

Web rolls his eyes. “Just eat your fucking sandwich.”

Joe snickers, then takes a bite of it, chews and swallows. “How’s the paper?”

Web just shakes his head. “This election is going to be the death of me.”

“It’s seven months away,” Joe says, a pocket of corned beef in his cheek.

“That doesn’t mean the whole office isn’t worked up about it,” Web counters. “Journalists…” He trails off. “My editor is breathing down my goddamn neck.”

Joe wipes mustard from the corner of his mouth and licks it off his finger. “Well, that’s what happens when you miss deadlines, Schatz.”

“Astute observation, Lieb.” Web glowers, but Joe knows he’s just being difficult on purpose. Always the same song and dance with him. “The article isn’t right yet.”

“Which article is this again?” Joe takes a sip of his coffee. “The one about the, uh, the mayor’s daughter’s ballet recital?”

Web smacks Joe in the chest. Joe was expecting as much, and he grins at having gotten a rise out of him.

“Uh, no,” Web says insistently. “I’m writing about the steelworkers union.”

“Right, the steelworkers union.”

Joe takes another bite of his sandwich and chews thoughtfully. Web had probably told him about it at one point or another, probably after sex. Web has always been too talkative for his own good around Joe, but he’s especially rambly after an orgasm. Joe likely hadn’t been listening. It’s enough to keep up with the virility of a twentysomething in bed, he doesn’t need a fucking dissertation afterwards.

“How’s business at the shop?” Web asks, changing the subject.

“Slow.” Joe picks at his sandwich wrapper. “You’d think people’s hair had stopped growing.”

Web laughs. “Well, hopefully, that’s not the case. We’d probably get evicted. Maybe it’ll pick up this afternoon.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

“Is Sal still getting on your nerves?”

Joe makes a pft sound. “Does the day of the week end in Y?”

They finish their sandwiches and coffees in companionable silence, watching as people stroll through the park with their dogs or their children who aren’t old enough to be in school yet. A well-dressed housewife walks past them pushing an expensive-looking pram. A little boy in overalls, no older than two, toddles behind her, pulling a toy truck on a string. She smiles politely at them, her eyes shaded by a pair of cat eye sunglasses and her lips a rubious red. A scarf battens down her kempt blonde curls, tied around her head with a neat bow beneath her chin.

Mom, tot, and baby are making their way to the adjacent fountain when a baby blanket hanging out of the bassinet falls to the ground. A soft pink crumple, bleached by the sunlight against the gray pavement. The woman fails to notice and her little boy pays it no mind. They continue on their walk, unaware that anything is amiss.

Before Joe can even say anything, Web is getting up from the bench and jogging over to the abandoned blanket. He scoops it off the ground and approaches the woman, getting her attention by gently tapping her on the elbow. She turns and Web presents the blanket to her like some kind of fairytale fucking prince, eliciting a wide, white smile from the woman, her teeth square and straight like a row of Chiclets. She takes off her sunglasses and places them on top of her head, probably to get a better look at Web. Joe can barely suppress the urge to roll his eyes.

The civilian world isn’t like the Army. In the Army, a pretty face like Web’s might get you relentlessly teased, or cause the men to take you less seriously until you prove otherwise. On the outside though, it’s all anyone seems to care about. People are always accosting Web, asking him for directions or chatting him up in line at the theater or next to him on the train. In the rare instances they go out to the Old Crow or the Black Cat, Joe has to keep a firm grip on him, in case some flit tries to take Web off his hands.

Web and the woman are chatting now, glancing down every so often to look at the baby in the pram. They’re far enough away that Joe can only pick up fragments of their conversation above the rushing of the fountains. Joe catches the words ‘daughter’ and ‘paper’ and ‘sweet.’ He fishes for his cigarettes in the breast pocket of his button-up and lights one, just so he has something to do with his hands. The smoke churns in his chest and the back of his neck prickles.

The little boy is shyly clinging to his mother’s skirt. She bends over and picks him up, balancing him on her hip. Web is smiling even wider now than he was when Joe first greeted him this afternoon. He waves hello to the little boy. Joe takes another sharp drag of his cigarette as Web says his goodbyes and then walks back to the bench where Joe is still sitting.

“Nice family,” Web says, plopping himself down again.

Joe doesn’t say anything. He taps ash from his cigarette onto the ground and tries to look preoccupied. Web checks his watch. He gathers up their sandwich wrappers and empty coffee cups and puts them into the paper bag to be thrown away. He’s still faintly smiling to himself as he does it. It’s just enough to make Joe’s anger boil over.

He scoffs. “Jesus, Web. Didn’t know you missed flirting with broads that much.”

Web’s head immediately snaps to the left so he can look at Joe. “What? I wasn’t flirting,” he insists. “I was just trying to be nice, and she was very clearly married.”

“Then what the hell are you smiling about?”

“Her kids! Her kids were cute,” Web says, raising his voice. He promptly lowers it as more parkgoers pass by them. “The little boy, Peter, and the baby, Judy. Christ, Joe. You know I like kids.”

Joe looks at Web. Web looks back at him. His eyes are so goddamn blue. Sometimes Joe thinks if Web were lying to him, he would be able to see it in his eyes, spot the untruth somewhere in that clear crystal blue, like a droplet of blood in water. Right now, however, all he sees is the person he loves most in this world, begging him not to be an asshole for once.

Joe’s jealousy fizzles out, mild embarrassment rushing in to take its place.

“Alright.” He shifts, letting go of some of the tension in his shoulders, and fiddles with his cigarette. “Y’know, I did hear something about you in Holland, depleting the company’s Hershey bar supply by giving chocolate to every sad Dutch kid you saw.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” The corners of Web’s mouth turn up ever so slightly in a smirk, and Joe knows his attempt to break the tension has worked. “You know about that? Who told you?”

“I don’t know. Hoobler maybe.”

“Hoobler.” Web repeats the name thoughtfully, like he’s testing it out on his tongue after not saying it for a long time. “Well, in my defense, the Krauts were starving them.”

“Wow, my fuckin’ hero. Where’s your Silver Star, Web? Is it in your sock drawer with your Purple Hearts?”

“Shut up,” Web says, but there’s barely any bite to it. “How has this not come up in the last however many years?”

Joe shrugs. “Maybe we talked about it and forgot.”

The truth is, they don’t reminisce deeply about the war very often. It comes up every now and again. Sometimes they linger on the more lighthearted memories, like a particularly funny joke Luz told or the summer afternoons they spent swimming together in Lake Zell. Anything weightier than that spells trouble for the both of them. Web becomes unspeakably angry when he talks seriously about the war, while Joe feels like he could cry ten years worth of tears.

Half a decade ago, Web had given Joe a rough manuscript of his recollections to read. Joe had barely made it five pages into the thing. He’d quickly realized that if he knew the full extent of Web’s pain, he’d never be able to disentangle himself from his own. Since then, they’ve tried not to reopen the wound, although Joe supposes that implies it closed in the first place.

Web checks his watch again. “Shit, I’m going to be late.”

“Well, then, you better go.”

“Alright.”

Web squeezes Joe’s knee — about all the affection they can get away with in public — and gets to his feet, coolly draping his suit jacket over his right shoulder like he thinks he’s Frank Sinatra or something.

“Thanks for lunch, Joe.”

“You’re welcome, Dave.”

Web turns and smiles at him, walking backwards in the direction of Market Street to catch another cable car.

“Ich liebe dich,” he says in German, in case anyone is listening. “Du bist mein Leben, meine Familie, mein Lieber.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Joe waves him off. “All the same to you, kid.”

Web laughs, boisterous and beautiful, then finally turns his back to Joe. Joe watches him go, then heads off in the opposite direction.

[This fic is currently at 28k and hopefully I will finish it AT SOME POINT.]

[keganexe]

A second game has struck the itch page

It's always been my dream to mutate Blister City though a number of additional projects, settings, etc. and I'm happy to announce... It's going really fucking well. I'm so excited to show Blister Kingdom off/

Blister Kingdom is a small (I guess like comparatively... it still clocks in at 50 pages after all) setting zine designed to add some Blisterpunk flavor to your favorite dungeon fantasy TTRPG. Blister Kingdom is based on Blister City, and all the setting, locations, and NPCs included are translated from the more cyberpunk setting of Blister City into the dungeon fantasy world of Blister Kingdom. Among the major changes in the genre shift are:

The idea of a Mars Bubble City has moved more squarely into a more traditional dungeon game setting. Blister Kingdom is instead the only surviving kingdom after a long and bloody war poisoned the atmosphere, and destroyed all other known kingdoms.

The tech has obviously changed, with many of the high-tech elements of Blister City being swapped out for magic or divine objects instead. Where Blister City has body mods, Blister Kingdom has magical mutations.

The factions and NPCs have been transformed to fit the setting a bit better. Some changes are obvious, The Gravediggers of Mars for instance have turned into the Graveburners of Richterburg. Some changes require reading between the lines to catch, for example the Uplifters of Mars have been turned into the Automatites of Blister Kingdom.

The shape of the city has changed. Whereas Blister City is notably tall with districts all living on top of each other, Blister Kingdom is wide instead. The class conflict is all still there, it’s just a different shape as it were.

The mood and the rebellion of Blister City remains unchanged though, players are still punks, the rich still don’t give a shit, you still have to do what you can to protect your community. Spread the good news of The Everburning Church, mutate horribly in the Balowealm, join a union as a sentient printing press, and figure out who or what is stalking through the Outer City, leaving behind a trail of corpses.

PS: If you missed it, I also dropped another game based on Blister City here, and there's now a Blister City News Network feed up here. While I'm excited to put Blister Kingdom out, and I'm excited to start work on Blister Island, Blister City will always be my baby, and I'm not nearly done with it yet.

[pxnsneverland]

Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 10)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 1557

warnings/notes: This chapter is NSFW, my lovelies!!! 18+ ONLY!!! Proceed with caution (gif source: felixscatton)

Chapter 10: The Wolf's Embrace

Bonnie could feel his hardness pressed against her, reminding her of his primal desires. She ached for him, craving the release that only he could give her. She moved her hips, inviting him to take what was theirs. Their kisses were hot and passionate, their need for each other tangible in every touch and taste. Their tongues danced together, exploring each other's mouths in a sensual ballet only interrupted by the occasional sharp intake of breath as they both struggled for air.

Austin's hand slid underneath the waistband of her pants, tracing the curve of her lower back.

With a growl of desire, he broke the kiss, his eyes burning with raw passion. "Tell me you want this. Say the words, Bonnie." His voice was guttural, the accent thickened by arousal.

"I want you, Austin," she breathed, her hands shaking as she clutched at his shirt. "I want this."

Austin's response was a feral growl of approval before he was crashing their lips together once more. The world faded away into nothing but the two of them, their bodies moving in a primal dance as old as time itself. With one fluid motion, he rid her of her pants and panties. His rough hands explored every inch of her, leaving behind a trail of desire in their wake.

Bonnie gasped, arching her hips towards him, her body craving his possession. Austin growled low in his throat, a predatory sound that sent shivers down her spine. With one swift, searing thrust, he entered her, their union a collision of need and want that had been simmering for years. As if their bodies were always meant to be joined as one.

Their bodies moved together in an ancient rhythm, their moans and pants mixing with the crackling fire. Bonnie's nails raked against his back, digging into the taut muscle as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She was aware of her own transformation now complete, the wolf within surfacing to claim its mate.

Austin's control shattered, his teeth grazing her neck as the beast within him surged forward. He growled with the ecstasy of their connection, his movements becoming more primal, more intense. Bonnie's grip on him tightened, her nails lengthening into claws as she met him stroke for stroke.

Their passion-filled mating ritual continued, fueled by the raw power of their primitive natures. The room felt like it was on fire, the air heavy with their combined scents of lust and desire. Austin's rough hands roamed over her body, leaving fiery trails down her flushed skin. Bonnie clung to him, her nails drawing lines of pleasure across his back. Their bodies moved together in a primal harmony, their heartsbeats thundering in unison.

The sounds of their flesh meeting filled the space between them - a slapping rhythm that echoed throughout the room, punctuated by the occasional gasp or moan. Their breathing was ragged and labored, hot puffs of air mingling with each other's lips and cheeks. The smell of sweat and desire mixed with that of wood smoke from the fireplace fueled the sensory frenzy they had created.

Austin's hips pistoned faster, deeper into hers, his muscular body flexing as he claimed what was rightfully his. His teeth grazed her earlobe, nipping gently as she writhed beneath him in ecstasy. The sheets beneath them were damp from their sweat and passion. Bonnie's cries mingled with Austin's growls as they reached their peak together, their bodies shuddering in unison. The air around them pulsed with the energy of their release, electricity crackling in the silence that followed.

Exhausted, they collapsed against each other, their hearts racing like two wild beasts running side by side in the dead of night. Austin's arms wrapped around her protectively, holding her close as they both fought to catch their breaths.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair, "I always have."

Bonnie, still quivering from the intensity of their union, nestled closer into Austin's embrace. Her head rested against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart as it slowly returned to a more serene rhythm. The warmth of his body enveloped her, providing a sense of security she hadn't felt in ages.

"I love you too," she murmured softly, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the firewood. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his skin, each touch reigniting small flickers of desire that pulsed warmly through her veins. In the stillness following their tempestuous union, Bonnie's mind drifted to the precarious situation they were embroiled in. The danger that lurked just beyond the safe confines of Austin's hideout whispered to her in the crackle of the fire. Yet, nestled in Austin’s arms, she found a sanctuary that felt far removed from her haunted past and the violent world she had fled.

Outside, the wind picked up, howling like the distant cries of wolves, reminding Bonnie of the reality they would soon have to face. Austin sensed her tension, his hold tightening slightly. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured against her hair, his voice a soothing balm. “Together.”

The reality of their situation settled heavy on her shoulders. Being with Austin wasn’t just a rebellion against her fears; it was a direct challenge to the very structure of the pack. Austin ran a hand through her hair placing his lips to her forehead. He spoke against her skin. “Why don’t you go shower?”

Bonnie nodded, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of sadness and resolve. She slid out from under his embrace, feeling the chill of the room contrast sharply against the residual warmth of their love-making. She looked back at him, a silent yearning in her eyes. Even though she didn’t say the words, Austin knew exactly what she was thinking.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he said with a soft smile.

Bonnie nodded suddenly feeling at ease once more. Was it her wolf’s need for him to be close? Or perhaps a deeper, more human desire to never be apart? Whatever it was, it had her heart swelling with emotions as complex and tumultuous as the storm raging outside their refuge. She headed to the bathroom, each step echoing slightly in the otherwise silent house.

As water started running in the bathroom, Austin considered his next move. The loyalty of his gang was fracturing, splintered by secrets and personal agendas. He needed to reinforce his position and remind them why he was their leader. The thought of confronting Jerry was particularly troubling. His old friend's trust had been a foundation stone in his leadership, but now it wavered under the weight of secrecy and doubt. If he found out about Victor’s death at the hands of Bonnie, he would never trust him again. He could easily turn the entire pack against him. They had rules, strict rules. And he had broken many of the ones he had had to upkeep.

He rose from the bed, muscles stretching taut as he moved. The scent of Bonnie lingered in the air, a constant reminder of what he was fighting for. He knew he couldn't keep her hidden forever; the truth would eventually spill, and chaos would ensue. But he was prepared to face whatever came his way, for her.

Austin paused at the threshold, his presence merely a silent shadow amidst the billowing steam. He watched her for a moment, witnessing the serene grace that always seemed to surround her despite the chaos of their lives. It struck him then, how deeply intertwined his life had become with hers, how every decision he now made was weighed not just for its impact on the pack but on Bonnie as well.

With a resolve solidifying in his chest, he stepped into the shower. He moved quietly into the stream of warmth, closing off the rest of the world. Bonnie’s eyes fluttered open at his touch. The water between them mingled like their lives—turbulent yet full of an inexplicable purity.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started to say, his voice low and husky with unspoken emotion.

Bonnie looked at him in the shower, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him soaking wet and handsome. His muscles rippled as he moved, water cascading down his strong body like a synchronized dance. She stepped closer to him, her skin prickling with goosebumps as the warmth embraced her. Taking his hand, she carefully wrapped her fingers around his, feeling the roughness of his skin against hers. The shampoo suds mixed with their sweat, making bubbles that smelled of their intimacy. Austin leaned in to kiss her forehead, his lips leaving a warm trail along her damp hairline. Their eyes met in the mirror, their reflection distorted by the steamy surface.

"We'll find a way," she whispered back, "We always do."

Austin's expression softened at her words, and he brought her close to his chest, their hearts beating in sync once more. "We'll find a way," he repeated into her ear, as if willing it to be true.

Stay tuned for part 11!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @droopycoquette @buckysteveloki-me

[chiefdirector]

Mirroring | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Act One | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27

“So what was the big rush to go see Rosalind Dyer? I thought the plan was to keep our cards to our chest.” Nyla asked, breaking the silence that had filled the car for the hours.

(Y/N) thought about all the excuses she had made on the way to the Correctional Facility but quickly wrote them off, knowing that if anyone could see through her lies, it would be Harper. “It was Chen. We were listening to the bug we planted when she said that we were doing exactly what was expected of us. Dyer could have known that we were listening to Sullivan. It was predictable, we were predictable.”

“So you changed the game?”

“Well she certainly wasn’t expecting me. And if I had filed the paperwork, it would’ve taken days and she would’ve been informed beforehand.” (Y/N) explained, running her hand through her hair. “Can you drop me off at Union Station? My car is there.”

“Sure. But you’ll need the keys.” Nyla moved to open the glove box in front of the passenger chair, revealing the keychain (Y/N) had left on her tyre earlier this morning. “Leaving them on the tyre is just sloppy.”

“How did you-?”

“Bradford, you forget. I was you, I am you. Look, not to get sappy but I know you’re keeping Tim out of the loop. Whether or not I agree with it, which by the way I don’t, is not my problem. But if anyone can help, it’s me.” 

“Thanks…” (Y/N) trailed off, looking out of the window watching the city speed by. “Can I ask something though? How did you know where to find me?”

Nyla laughed, “Like I said, I am you. And we had pretty much the same idea. Except I called ahead.”

“That was smart.”

“Yeah, maybe you should really follow protocol next time.”

(Y/N) just hummed at Harper’s words, not willing to give Nyla that satisfaction of her verbal agreement. 

—

(Y/N) tried not to roll her eyes at the mountain of paperwork that had been stacked neatly on her desk, courtesy of Sargent Grey. On top of the stack sat two little post it notes, one standard yellow one from Grey himself, telling her to have the stack completed by 8am tomorrow. 

The other was a pink, flower shaped one. She recognised it as one of her own, stolen from the top left drawer of her desk. The flower was inscribed with a short message, I’ll bring lunch and we can talk. Not mad, I promise. Tim 

(Y/N) held the post-it for a moment, as she thought over the words before her. Of course he wasn’t mad, it was Tim. He had never been mad at her, sure he had been angry at situations caused by her, and she had him. But Tim had never explicitly been mad at her.

Before, she had taken it for granted, but now, as she thought over her actions from today, she couldn’t have been more glad. Time and time again, she had taken the situation into her own hands, keeping her husband out of it. He understood, he always understood, but now (Y/N) could not be more grateful. 

Nyla had told her how panicked he was this morning, finding an empty bed and a silent house. She should’ve woken him, left a note. Anything really

Sighing, she shook the thought away, pulling her focus to the stack of paperwork before her. Although she didn’t work for very long until she was pulled away by the smell of a burrito bowl and a chair being pulled up beside her. 

Quickly, she turned to face Tim, apologies rapidly spilling from her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. It was really stupid. It went against what we agreed. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you.”

Tim looked at her softly as she rambled on, before placing a couple of forks on her desk. “Did you not see the post-it? I’m not mad. Harper spoke to me when she got in… explained it all.”

“Oh?”

“She said what had happened, and you were right, I would’ve stopped you. Or at least gone with you. And Dyer would’ve expected that. You needed to keep her on her toes. But you could’ve left a note.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” (Y/N) promised. “I’ll leave a note when I go.”

“It’s a big adjustment for us both.” Tim sighed, hating the words that he was saying, no matter how true they were. “You’ve changed, (Y/N), and so I have. We were expecting everything to go back to the way it was, and it won’t ever be again. But we can change together.”

“Together.” (Y/N) repeated, smiling softly at Tim. 

"Besides, that's the only thing that hasn't changed. How much I love you." Tim let the gentle silence hang in the air for a moment before changing the subject. "So, tell me what you found out."

(Y/N) leaned forward in her chair, grabbing her lunch as she began to recall her visit. "Right, I don't think we were right on the motivation. I don't think this is revenge, or the next move in whatever game she's playing. I think she wants something."

"Like what?"

"She said 'freedom' but she knows she won't ever be released. So it could be a code, or the name of some group or something. I haven't made it that far yet."

Tim hummed through a mouthful of food, barely chewing before he swallowed. "What if it's not a thing at all. What if she's lobbying for freedom in the metaphorical sense?"

"The woman is crazy, babe." (Y/N) took another bite before placing her fork back down onto the desk. "God knows what she means. Maybe she wants her soul to be free, your guess is as good as mine"

"Like redemption? Please." Tim scoffed, “You don’t know just how insane she is, but there is one thing that is consistent, she is so proud of herself for what she has done to repent anything.”

“Maybe she is finding freedom with someone else, like she did with that Caleb guy… the one who attacked Lucy.” 

Tim took a moment to consider what (Y/N) had said, weighing up the implications of what that could mean. Rosalind Dyer was proud of herself, so much so it would be her downfall. Her pride had gotten her caught for her crimes, as well as continued pain even into her incarceration. 

She had to land on top, she couldn't comprehend losing. And not only had the LAPD beat her, they had humiliated her in the process. So she chose an easy target, someone vulnerable to mind games as they tried to adjust to a life they had once known, a life that had changed and progressed without them.

This wasn’t about (Y/N) at all, it wasn’t about anyone who had betrayed her, or pushed her towards Rosalind’s grasp. This wasn’t about any of them. It was about all of them, the entire LAPD.

His thoughts raced a mile a minute, crashing to a stop when he felt (Y/N) gently shake his shoulder. “You okay? I lost you there for a minute.”

Tim’s hand clamped down on top of (Y/N)’s. “I know what she’s going to do next.”

27 | 29

tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @rookietrek @hufflepuffwhore13 @tessalynni @anaferreira-4 @starstruckchopshoptyphoon @alessiamargaux @rexit-mo

Masterlist

[mariacallous]

Venezuela has been polarized almost since the election of Hugo Chávez in 1998, but last Sunday’s stolen presidential vote shows the rift has changed. Previously, it was between middle- and upper-class citizens who opposed Presidents Chávez and Nicolás Maduro and those leaders’ base, the poor. Now the rift is between a majority of citizens and Maduro’s discredited, autocratic government. Residents from the poor neighborhoods that ring Caracas are pouring into the capital to protest alongside the city’s better-off residents. To suppress them, Maduro and his government are unleashing their security apparatus, and as of Wednesday, government security and militia forces had arrested hundreds of protesters and killed more than a dozen people.

This is not a “civil war,” as Venezuelan Attorney General Tarek William Saab recently attempted to portray it—at least not in the traditional sense of citizens against fellow citizens. Instead, we are seeing the rising up of citizens against a government that, according to credible exit polls and opposition tallies of more than 80 percent of the ballots, stole an election from a popular presidential candidate, Edmundo González. There is no hard evidence to support the claim of the National Electoral Council (CNE)—packed with Maduro loyalists—that Maduro was reelected with 51 percent of the vote, to González’s 44 percent. And what’s certain is the division and turmoil revealed this week after the election are inimical to the social capital, stability, and predictability needed to rebuild the country’s battered economy.

Venezuelan citizens lined up for hours to cast their vote in Sunday’s presidential election. This demonstration of renewed faith in democracy followed decades of declining participation in voting, owing, in part, to the opposition’s abstentions. In preelection public opinion polls, more than 80 percent of registered voters said they wanted political change, and an almost equal number expressed an intent to vote. But Maduro never had any intention of allowing himself to be voted out of power.

Before and after, his government has displayed a refusal to adhere to standards of electoral transparency. Several months before the balloting, the CNE disinvited an election observation mission from the European Union. Days before the vote, Venezuelan authorities refused to allow ex-presidents from Argentina, Bolivia, Mexico, and Panama to fly to the country observe the elections. And after governments from Argentina, Chile, Costa Rica, the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Panama, Peru, and Uruguay questioned the results, the Maduro government announced that it would shutter those countries’ embassies in Caracas. The willingness to break diplomatic practice has shocked the foreign-policy community, especially in Venezuela’s own neighborhood; solidarity and dialogue are firmly ingrained in the region’s diplomatic DNA.

Of course, fellow autocratic governments in China, Cuba, Iran, Nicaragua, and Russia immediately recognized Maduro’s win. For some of them, like China, the reasons are in part financial—Beijing wants to keep its access to Venezuela’s oil. For others, it is more out of solidarity in defying international scrutiny of human rights and elections. Meanwhile, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, the EU, and the United States among others are calling on the government to release the paper ballots. But if the CNE never turns over the paper trail or if the evidence is demonstrated to be falsified, what those governments will or even can do is unclear. (A majority of governments denounced Maduro’s last election in 2018 as fraudulent with little effect, but since the opposition had boycotted the contest, the claims carried less import.)

Protests are likely to grow in the coming weeks, and the likelihood of broad international isolation—what one pro-government investor said at a recent conference in London would be just “some turbulence”—now looks more like a crash. Investors who bought distressed bonds after Venezuela defaulted on its debt are watching bond prices drop after rising in the weeks before the election. Energy companies in the United States and Europe that benefited from the U.S. liberalization of sanctions are now facing a possible return of those sanctions, and as Britain, the EU, and the United States discuss how to best punish the government and individuals within it for failing to meet Venezuela’s commitments under the 2023 Barbados Agreement to hold free and fair elections, there will likely be more targeted personal sanctions, too.

None of this bodes well for Maduro’s ability to maintain even his limited base of popular support, which includes corrupt businesses, politicians, and security officers. Further repression will likely follow. While China and Russia have pledged their support for the Maduro government, neither has the capacity to keep Venezuela’s battered economy afloat.

Whatever happens to Maduro’s government, the chaos and the economic pain it will inflict likely spell the end of the United Socialist Party of Venezuela (PSUV) and the Bolivarian project that Chavez founded in 1998. There was a slim, perhaps unrealistic, hope among international diplomats and observers that more forward-thinking members of the government and party would consider their political future in a democratic Venezuela should a popular uproar follow a stolen election. That hope has vanished. For the majority of Venezuelans who supported González and had their hopes dashed, the PSUV will be associated with theft and cruelty, even more so than in the past. The legacy of Chavismo will be remembered for this.

The situation in Venezuela cries out for international mediation to restore order and defend the rights of Venezuelan citizens. The center-left governments of Colombia and Brazil could be well positioned to convene such a process.

But next steps are deeply unclear. Nor is it obvious after the Maduro government cut ties to neighboring governments that dared to question the results whether Brazil and Colombia would be able to maintain ties to the strategically thin-skinned PSUV regime should they criticize it.

The violence in recent days committed by state security forces and pro-government private militias—the colectivos—should preclude the government from staying in office, even if the opposition is declared victorious and is constitutionally sworn in on Jan. 10, 2025. Oddly, the Maduro government has called for a national dialogue. But an immediate change of government is necessary, if even a transitional government. That will first require understanding that instead of simple political polarization or even a civil war, a government has instead waged war on its own citizens and their popular will.

[midmaximoo]

I'm currently in rendering hell right now as I'm finishing up some wttt Vermont doodles, and so in the mean time Ima take a break and share some of my head canons for Vermont - so here we gooo!

Vermont has a very obvious farmer's tan. No matter how much sunscreen he puts on, poor VT gets assaulted by the sun no matter what.

Vermont, Maine, Colorado, and Alaska go camping together every year. These states specifically bc of the average wilderness experience most people in said places end up having. Alaska tolerates these guys the most out of the lower 48, and VT is also sort of reclusive and quiet so Alaska and Vermont are buds.

VT skis and Colorado snowboards, they both like to hit the mountains & trails every year together

Vermont has tattoos! He's got maple leaves, a hermit thrush (VT's state bird), just a lot of nature related ink.

Vermont doesn't own a car, he has a motorcycle.

His aesthetic is along the lines of cryptidcore, goblincore, overall a very green sort of grunge.

He can speak French (due to him bordering Quebec, and VT was populated by a lot of French soldiers/immigrants during 1600-1900s.)

Louisiana and Vermont would probably be quite good friends. I can imagine Loui saying something in his lovely Louisiana French dialect, and Vermont being one of the few states that understands him and can respond in kind.

Honestly I feel like most Mideast/Southeast states would get along pretty well with VT even if he is pretty antisocial at times. He has a similar folksy vibe that fits well. (historically, VT was built by "lower class" immigrants working hard blue collar jobs. Lot's of the same Scottish and Irish influence as most Northeast states. Eventually, they trickled down south through places like Appalachia as time went on.)

Vermont is a townie at heart, not having very big cities and a smaller population, he definitely is a vocal workers rights activist and loudly opposes classism and loves himself a union strike if needed.

Vermont and New Hampshire may have started out hating each other, having a sort of rivalry. After time went on, and maybe due to living in the Statehouse right next door, or maybe even years prior, these two states really didn't have that much contempt for each other as one might seem. They mainly "hate" each other as a bit now, finding it funny. They are probably married for tax purposes (VT loves NH lack of sales tax lol).

Vermont is the Statehouse's resident veterinarian, being very good with pretty much any animal under the sun native to his state or not.

He also has a green thumb and loves gardening.

VT has a pet Raccoon named Champ (after the famous lake monster)

Vermont is a vegetarian, despite being a state with a lot of hunters. He'd do it for survival, but only as a last resort. To counter that, I'd say he is good with a bow and arrow (a reference to bow season).

This fella can play a lot of instruments. He especially likes the banjo bc why not?

Okay that's MORE than enough for now, and this was mainly for me to just yell into the void and keep for reference. I just want more wttt VT content bc he could be such a fun character! Sorry I tricked you into reading my Vermont propaganda

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Nick Visser at HuffPost:

Vice President Kamala Harris praised the work of unions during a Labor Day rally on Monday, repeating her pledge to protect workers’ rights and combat the policies of Donald Trump she said will “pull us all backwards.” Harris appeared with President Joe Biden in Pittsburgh, their first joint appearance since she replaced him as the Democratic nominee for the White House. In a short, rousing speech, Harris addressed union members and praised the city as the “cradle of the American labor movement,” pointing to hard-won protections secured by blue-collar workers. “You may not be a union member, but you better thank unions for that five-day work week, thank unions for sick leave,” she said. “Thank unions for paid family leave. Thank unions for your vacation time. Because when union wages go up, everybody’s wages go up, when union workplaces are safer, all workplaces are safer, when unions are strong, America is strong.” Pennsylvania will play a key role in November and would be a major prize in the fight for swing states. Harris cast her campaign as the antithesis of that of her Republican challenger, saying the race was about two “very different versions” of the future. “Do you fight for workers? Do you fight for families? Do you fight for those who must be seen and heard and deserve the dignity that comes with hard work,” Harris asked. “That’s what we fight for. And when you know what you stand for, you know what to fight for.”

In their first joint appearance since the July 21st announcement that Joe Biden will not run for re-election, President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris spoke on the importance of supporting unions at a Labor Day rally in Pennsylvania.

See Also:

The Guardian: Harris and Biden pitch for steel votes in Pittsburgh in first joint appearance on campaign trail

[lunarry]

“Actas”: the Key Documents at the Center of the Electoral Conflict

After the CNE declared (and today ratified) Nicolás Maduro’s victory with 51.2% of the votes―a figure that several foreign governments question and María Corina Machado calls fraudulent―the ball is in the opposition’s court.

Machado asserts that a total of four independent quick counts, which her central committee reviewed, statistically proved that Edmundo González won in a landslide with 70% of the votes. Quick counts (also known as parallel vote tabulations) estimate the number of votes that candidates received, providing a check against official figures reported by the state. Eugenio Martínez, a leading electoral expert, just claimed that Elvis Amoroso’s report from last night was printed in his office―not in the CNE’s totalization center.

The next few hours may prove historic. This is the first time since Hugo Chávez took power in 1999 that the opposition is adamant that they can dissect and expose a purported fraud in a national vote. The large-scale deployment of witnesses (or voting center representatives of political parties) throughout yesterday’s election was the crucial step to reach this point.

For now, both the military and the ruling party’s leadership seems to be on board with Amoroso’s results, but Nicolás Maduro is in hot water. We may be set for the next big leap: the disclosure of official voting records that can disaggregate the results in each of the country’s voting tables.

There were 30,026 voting tables in this election, spread across 15,797 voting centers. All votes must be recorded in actas, or voting tallies: printed documents that establish the total votes for every candidate at a voting table. Voting machines produce a printed tally at each voting center before those tallies are sent back to the CNE’s headquarters in Caracas. Witnesses representing all candidates at a voting table must sign that print-out.

After a tally or acta is printed and signed, the machines connect to the internet to send the data electronically to the CNE, which puts up the tally on its website.

The CNE’s website has been down the entire day. There’s no public access to results at each table. In several polling stations, CNE officials and Plan República soldiers prevented tallies from being printed, or took them away forcibly. The opposition won’t be able to process those actas.

However, the Unitary Platform may be able to collect enough of them to prove that González won, and by a landslide, as it is alleging. At 1 am last night, Maria Corina Machado said they had 40% of the tallies with them; today, they are working on getting more to sustain their case.

While people are taking to the streets in many cities and Maduro orders repression, the figure war gains momentum. Gustavo Rojas Matute, a Washington-based Venezuelan economist, just tweeted that the Unitary Platform has processed almost two thirds of the voting record. So far, they show Maduro trailing González Urrutia by 2.9 million votes.

Machado and González Urrutia announced a press conference for 6 pm. In the last hours, more and more governments, the European Union, the UN Secretary General and the Carter Center have increased the pressure on the CNE to publish detailed accounts, table by table, of all votes. Precisely what the opposition is looking for.

[aliciavance4228]

The Strange Things with the Thebans...

I promised you guys that I'll make an essay about it so let's get it started.

Chapter I: Cadmus & The Dragon

One of the greatest heroes before Heracles alongside Perseus and Bellerophon, Cadmus is the mythological founder king of Thebes. One interesting fact about him is that, despite of being considered a greek hero, Cadmus wasn't even greek in the first place. In fact he was phoencian and came from a city called Tyre. By ancient standards he would've been considered a "barbarian". Another irony is that Cadmus' initial purpose wasn't even to become a king, but to rescue his sister Europa, at that time kidnapped by Zeus in the shape of a bull. A further irony: Europe was named after an asian princess. Aaand another further irony: when the modern state of Hellas/Greece joined the European single currency, and so abandoned the drachma of old, it celebrated its accession and new monetary union by striking a coin bearing the image of Zeus disguised as a bull in the act of abducting (a polite way of masking the actual fact of rape) Europa.

Anyway, back to Cadmus: Once arrived in Boetia he intended to sacrifice a cow to Athena and asked his men to fetch water from the river. There was one single, little, tiny, itsy-bitsy problem though: the said river was guarded by the Ismenian Dragon, who also happened to be Ares' son. So Cadmus, just like any other hero, slayed the dragon and, listening to Athena's advice, planted the serpent's teeth. Out of these teeth a bunch of dudes grew up and started to fight (and consequently kill) each other, with the exception of five who survived: Echion, Udaeus, Chthonius, Hyperenor, and Pelor, who are now considered the ancestors of thebans. (Okay, the question now would be with whom they reproduced, but that's an ask even I don't want to know the answer to...).

Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 3. 22 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.) : "[Kadmos (Cadmus)] sent some of his men to fetch water from the spring of Ares, but a Serpent, said by many to be a child of Ares, guarded the spring and destroyed most of those who had been sent. In outrage Kadmos killed the Serpent, and then, following the instructions of Athena, planted its teeth. From this sowing there sprang from the earth armed men, called Spartoi (Sparti). These proceeded to kill each other, some in voluntary encounters, and others in ignorance. Pherelydes says that when Kadmos saw the armed men growing up from the earth, he threw stones at them, and they, believing that they were being hit by each other, started their fight... As for Kadmos, to atone for the deaths he served Ares as a laborer for an 'everlasting' year, for a year then was equal to eight years now."

Cadmus was punished for slaying the dragon by serving Ares for a certain period of time. Later, Athena assigned to him the government of Thebes and Zeus gave him Harmonia as his wife. Found another irony: Harmonia was the daughter of Ares, which makes him and Cadmus in-laws. Irony number five million: despite of being married with the personification of harmony herself, Cadmus' family tree is characterized by an entire disharmony. According to Statius, Harmonia received from Hephaestus a cursed necklace that brought unluck, which later got passed from one generation to another:

Statius, Thebaid 2. 265 ff (trans. Mozley) (Roman epic C1st A.D.) : "The dread necklace of Harmonia... The Lemnian [Hephaistos], so they of old believed, long time distressed at Mars' [Ares'] deceit and seeing that no punishment gave hindrance to the disclosed armour, and the avenging chains removed not the offence [of his affair with Hephaistos' then wife Aphrodite], wrought this [a cursed necklace] for Harmonia on her bridal day to be the glory of her dower [description of the necklace follows]... The work first proved its worth, when Harmonia's complaints turned to dreadful hissing, and she bore company to grovelling Cadmus, and with long trailing breast drew furrows in the Illyrian fields [the pair were turned into serpents in Illyria]. Next, scarce had shameless Semele [their daughter] put the hurtful gift about her neck, when lying Juno [Hera] crossed her threshold. Thou too, unhappy Jocasta, didst, as they say, possess the beauteous, baleful thing, and didst deck thy countenance with its praise - on what a couch, alas! to find favour; and many more beside. Last Argia shines in the splendour of the gift, and in pride of ornament and accursed gold surpassed her sister's mean attiring. The wife of the doomed prophet [Eriphyle wife of Amphiaraus] beheld it, and at every shrine and banquet in secret cherished fierce jealousy, if only it might be granted her to possess the terrible jewel, nought profited, alas!"

Cadmus and Harmonia left Thebes after a series of catastrophes which happened in their family and emmigrated to Illyria where they battled various local tribes to found a new kingdom. Eventually, they two got turned into snakes and carried off to the Elysium to live a peaceful life.

Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 3. 39 : "Kadmos (Cadmus) and Harmonia left Thebes and went to the Enkhelean (Enchelean) people. They were being harassed by the Illyrians, and learned from the god through an oracle that they would overpower the Illyrians if they had Kadmos and Harmonia as their leaders. Trusting this, they made these two their leaders in the campaign, and did indeed defeat the Illyrians. Kadmos ruled the Illyrians, and fathered a son named Illyrios, Later on, both he and Harmonia were turned into serpents, and were sent by Zeus out to the Elysian field."

Chapter 2: Semele Thyone

Semele: the youngest daughter of Cadmus and Harmonia and mother of Dionysus, and the theban princess infamously known for her not-so-bright intellectual capabilities.

Zeus slept with Semele and left her pregnant. Later, Hera payed her a visit disguised as her nurse and told her to ask Zeus to come to her in the same way he's coming to his wife (gotta admit, I didn't expect Hera to be this horny...). Later, Semele got killed by Zeus for her mistake, and Zeus managed to rescue the fetus she was carrying in her womb and let it develop inside his thigh.

Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 3. 26-27 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.) : "Zeus fell in love with Semele and slept with her, promising her anything she wanted, and keeping it all from Hera. But Semele was deceived by Hera into asking her to come to her as he came to Hera during their courtship. So Zeus, unable to refuse her, arrived in her bridal chamber in a chariot with lightning flashes and thunder, and sent a thunderbolt at her. Semele died of fright, and Zeus grabbed from the fire her sixth-month aborted baby, which he sewed into his thigh. After Semele's death the remaining daughters of Kadmos (Cadmus) circulated the story that she had slept with a mortal, thereafter accusing Zeus, and because of this had been killed by a thunderbolt."

Pseudo-Hyginus, Fabulae 179 : "Jove [Zeus] desired to lie with Semele, and when Juno [Hera] found out, she changed her form to that of the nurse Beroe, came to Semele, and suggested that she ask Jove to come to her as he came to Juno, ‘that you may know,’ she said, ‘what pleasure it is to lie with a god.’ And so Semele asked Jove [Zeus] to come to her in this way. Her request was granted, and Jove, coming with lightning and thunder, burned Semele to death. From her womb Liber [Dionysos] was born. Mercury [Hermes] snatched him from the fire and gave him to Nysus to be reared. In Greek he is called Dionysus."

Years later Dionysus rescued her from the Underworld. She was made immortal and received the name Thyone:

Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 3. 38 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.) : "He [Dionysos] retrieved his mother [Semele] from Haides' realm, gave her the name Thyone, and escorted her up to the sky."

Chapter 3: The Bacchae

"He is life's liberating force. He is release of limbs and communion through dance. He is laughter, and music in flutes. He is repose from all cares -- he is sleep! When his blood bursts from the grape and flows across tables laid in his honor to fuse with our blood, he gently, gradually, wraps us in shadows of ivy-cool sleep."

Thebes was closely associated with a particular shape-shifting, cross-dressing, gender-bending deity: Dionysus. Despite the fact that Thebes worshipped Dionysus even ahead of Apollo, according to Euripides' Bacchae his first visit to Thebes didn't go very well. Tragedy. Madness. Homocide. Maternal felicide. Dismemberment. Decapitation. Suicide ensued. Word Abuse.

Dionysus returns to Thebes followed by the Maenads in order to clear his mother's name and punish the thebans for not worshipping him. He disguises himself as a mortal and induces madness in all the women of Thebes, who flee to Mount Kytheron to celebrate rituals in honor of the god. Dionysus' aunts, Semele's sisters Ino, Autonoe, and Agave, are also charmed into becoming members of the Dionysian cult. In the court of the Theban palace, Cadmus and his advisor, Tiresias, prepare to join the Maenads. They are stopped by the arrival of the king of the city, Pentheus, back from his travels in Thebes. Son of Agave and Echíon, Pentheus is enraged by the condition of the Thebans and orders the immediate capture of Dionysus.

The king's messengers return bringing the god. Pentheus comes out of the palace and questions the young leader of the debauchery. Dionysus presents himself as a believer of the son of Zeus, inviting the king to join the rite. In response, Pentheus orders his confinement in a stable. The chorus mourns the prisoner, but is a few moments later the palace is engulfed in flames, and collapsed by a strong earthquake.

Dionysus emerges unscathed from the wreckage and is reunited with his maenads. Pentheus receives news from a messenger, who informs him about the situation of the maenads in the forests. They nurse wolf cubs, cast spells, and are possessed of unimaginable strength, which they use in killing herds of cows and bulls, and in attacking villages. Dionysus, still in disguise, convinces the king to abandon his plan of punishing the women by brute force. He advises him to spy on them first by dressing up as a maenad and pretending to be part of the group. Pentheus is slowly hypnotized by the god's influence and approves of the plan.

A messenger arrives to report that once the party reached the mountain, Pentheus wanted to climb a tree to get a better view, and the stranger used divine power to bend the tree and place the king in its highest branches. Dionysus revealed himself, summoned his followers and sued the intruder. The maddened maenads, led by Agave, brought Pentheus down from the tree, tore off his limbs and head, and tore his body to pieces.

Agave arrives home, carrying her son's bloody head. In her state of divine bliss, she thinks she holds the head of a mountain lion. She proudly shows it to her father, Cadmus, and is confused by his horrified expression. Agave calls Pentheus to come and marvel as well. Then the madness begins to fade, and Cadmus forces her to admit that she killed her own son. At the end of the play Pentheus' corpse is reassembled, Agave and her sisters are sent into exile, and Dionysus decrees that his grandparents, Cadmus and Harmonia, will be turned into serpents.

Chapter 4: Actaeon & his Hounds

Actaeon, son of Autonoe and Aristaeus as well as a theban prince and skillful hunter, is known for a) either intentionally or accidentally seeing Artemis bathing and b) getting turned into a deer and then flayed by his hounds. Was it worth it, Actaeon? Was it?!

Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 3. 30 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.) :

"To Autonoe and Aristaios was born a son Aktaion, who was reared by Kheiron and trained as a huntsman, but was later eaten up on Kithairon by his own dogs [because] . . . he saw Artemis bathing. They say that the goddess changed him on the spot into a deer, and drove his fifty hunting dogs into a frenzy so that they unintentionally ate him. When he was no more, they looked for their master with great howls and bays, coming in the course of their search to Kheiron's cave. He made a likeness of Aktaion, which assuaged their grief."

Chapter 5: Leucothea & Palaemon

Ino married Athamas and gave birth to two sons, Learchus and Melicertes. After Hera found out they accepted to take care of infant Dionysus she inflicted both of them with madness. Athamas slew Learchus, whereas Ino grabbed Melicertes and leapt off a cliff into the sea. They were later welcomed by the sea gods and received the names Leucothea and Palaemon.

Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 3. 28 : "Zeus... gave birth to Dionysos, whom he entrusted to Hermes. Hermes took him to Ino and Athamas, and persuaded them to bring him up as a girl. Incensed, Hera inflicted madness on them, so that Athamas stalked and slew his elder son Learkhos (Learchus) on the conviction that he was a dear, while Ino threw Melikertes (Melicertes) into a basin of boiling water, and then, carrying both the basin and the corpse of the boy, she jumped to the bottom of the sea. Now she is called Leukothea (Leucothea), and her son is Palaimon (Palaemon): these names they receive from those who sail, for they help sailors beset by storms."

Chapter 6: The Sphinx

The Sphinx was a woman-headed winged lion infamously known for asking people the same riddle (and eventually turning them into dinner for giving her the wrong answer): "What is it that has one voice, and is four-footed and two-footed and three-footed?"

The origins of the Sphinx and the reason why she was sent to plague Thebes differ from one from one source to another. According to Pseudo-Apollodorus Hera sent her to Boetia as a punishment towards the Thebans for not having Lains punished, who had carried off Chrysippus from Pisa:

Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 3. 52 - 55 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.) : "While he [Kreon (Creon)] was king, quite a scourge held Thebes in suppression, for Hera sent upon them the Sphinx, whose parents were Ekhidna (Echidna) and Typhon. She had a woman's face, the breast, feet, and tail of a lion, and bird wings. She had learned a riddle form the Mousai (Muses), and now sat on Mount Phikion (Phicium) where she kept challenging the Thebans with it. 

According to a Scholia on Hesiod's Theogony though it was Dionysus who sent her, whereas according to Euripides' Phoenicians she was either sent by Ares as a punishment for Cadmus, by Hades, or she was in fact one of Cadmus' daughters who was thrown into madness and went through a metamorphosis. Luckily it looked more like one of Ovid's Metamorphoses rather than Kafka's Metamorphosis, though after she started to eat people she certainly became a parasite. *badum tss*

Anyway, what is certain though is that she went through an existential crisis and killed herself after Oedipus managed to respond correctly to her riddle.

Chapter 7: Oedipus Rex

"And as for this marriage with your mother— have no fear. Many a man before you, in his dreams, has shared his mother’s bed. Take such things for shadows, nothing at all— Live, Oedipus, as if there’s no tomorrow."

Cadmus and Harmonia's only son, Polydorus, had a son named Labdacus who had a son named Laius who had a son named Oedipus; also known as the original motherfu-

The most famous myth version of Oedipus is the play Oedipus Rex or Oedipus Tyrannos, written by Sophocles.

The tragedy begins with the turmoil of the city of Thebes, which was facing a torment: the plants, animals and women were barren, and the plague made countless victims. The Thebans cane to ask Oedipus, the king of Thebes for help, who also got rid of the Sphinx by answering the Sphinx's riddle correctly. Creon, Oedipus' brother-in-law, is sent to the oracle to find out why this misfortune has befallen Thebes. The oracle reasons that the death of Laius, Oedipus' predecessor, has not been atoned for. In order to find out who killed Laius, Oedipus requests to be asked Tiresias, the old blind prophet. Tiresias tells Oedipus that he is the murderer of Laius. Believing that Tiresias and Creon have plotted against him, Oedipus argues with them. His wife, Jocasta, with whom he has four children, two boys - Eteocles and Polynices - and two girls, Antigone and Ismene, reassures him by telling him that Laios has been foretold that he will be killed by his own son, whom they gave for adoption in another country to avoid this tragedy. At that moment, Oedipus remembers the reason why he came to Thebes: to get away from his family so as not to kill his father, as he was told at birth. At a crossroad, Oedipus had a conflict with a group of robbers, thus killing his father, disguised as not to be recognized as the king. Oedipus then suffers a nervous breakdown, gouging out his own eyes since he believed that they are the ones that caused him not to see the truth.

Chapter 8: Seven Against Thebes

Another tragic episode from Thebes was the myth of the seven heroes who made war on this city, after the king of Argos chose them as captains of an army whose purpose was to restore Oedipus' son Polynices to the Theban throne. The myth is recounted in the play with the same name written by Aeschylus.

Seven Against Thebes opens with Eteocles calling forth every man in the city, whether child or aged, to the fight and the threat, which is at hand. Everyone must be ready to defend the city in battle. At that moment, the Scout enters with news that the enemy is just outside the walls and is preparing for battle. There are seven commanders ready to attack the seven gates of Thebes. After delivering the news, the Scout departs, and Eteocles prays to Zeus for his favor in the battle to come. The Chorus, which has entered as the Scout has related his news, begins a lament as they hear the approach of the armies. They beg their gods to protect them and their city. Eteocles hears the Chorus’ fearful pleadings as he enters and chastises them for their fear, which he says will not help their beloved Thebes. Instead, Eteocles promises that the Chorus will be stoned to death for their mindless fear, as their fear will incite the city’s residents into an instinctive fear of their own, which will disable and defeat the city. But the Chorus is not appeased, and they continue with their warnings as Eteocles warns them of the risk they create with their wailing. Eteocles again warns the Chorus to remain inside and to hold back their panic. At their continued warnings and fearful exclamations, Eteocles responds with attacks on the nature of women, their weaknesses, and their fears. Finally the Chorus promises to restrain their fear and remain silent, and Eteocles again prays to the gods, with promises of sacrifices and trophies if Thebes is successfully defended. After Eteocles leaves the stage, the Chorus continues to voice their worry at the coming battle and the risk they face if they are taken and become slaves.

When the Scout enters, he brings news of who will lead the attack at each of the city’s gates. At the news of each opponent’s assignment, Eteocles assigns one of his men to defend that particular gate. When Eteocles is told that his brother, Polyneices, will lead the attack on the seventh gate, Eteocles decides that he will defend that gate. At this news, the Chorus warns Eteocles that he should not shed his brother’s blood, but Eteocles is beyond listening to warnings. He acknowledges the curse of his father, Oedipus, but Eteocles says that fate will determine the outcome, and if the gods are determined that he shall be destroyed, then this will happen. The chorus is dismayed at Eteocles departure and cry out that if each bother slays the other, there will be no family to see to a proper burial. The Chorus then begins to remind the audience of the story of Oedipus and the curse that followed his father, himself, and now his sons. At that moment, the Scout again enters with the news that Thebes has crushed her enemy, and the city is victorious. Six of the seven gates have withstood the onslaught of the enemy’s armies, but the battle at the seventh gate has ended in tragedy. Both Eteocles and Polyneices are dead, each at the others hand. The Scout reminds the Chorus that the city must mourn the death but also celebrate the end of the curse. The Chorus asks is they should mourn these deaths or celebrate the triumph of Thebes’ victory. With the arrival of the brother’s bodies, the Chorus acknowledges the tragedy that has unfolded. The bodies are followed closely by Ismene and Antigone, who have come to bury their brothers. The Chorus addresses the sisters, with grief and with sadness at the resolution of the curse. The two sisters respond to the Chorus with their own grief, as they lament the curse that damned both brothers. As Antigone wonders where they will bury the brothers, a Herald enters with an announcement that the council has met. The council has determined that Eteocles is a hero and will be accorded an honorable burial. However, Polyneices would have laid waste to Thebes, and thus, his corpse is to lie unburied, to be picked apart by the birds of prey. Antigone promises that she will bury her brother, as she will not be bound by the Theban council’s ruling. A brief argument with the Herald ensues, but Antigone will not be threatened, and finally, the Herald leaves to report to the council. The play ends with the Chorus divided. Half will accompany Eteocles to his grave; half will accompany Polyneices to his burial.

Aeschylus' Seven Against Thebes was part of a trilogy, along with other two tragic plays called Laius and Oedipus. Unfortunately both of them got lost, along with a comedic play titled The Sphinx. Due to the popularity of Sophocles' Antigone the ending was rewritten about half of a century after Aeschylus' death so that play could have a less mournful tone and turn Antigone into a continuation of it.

Chapter 9: Antigone

Similarly with Oedipus Rex, the tragic play Antigone written by Sophocles is one of the most precious literary creations of antiquity. Antigone, the brave daughter of Oedipus, witnesses the disaster caused by the fight between her brothers, Eteocles and Polynices. Both fell in battle, and the throne of Thebes is occupied by Creon. The king orders the funeral of Eteocles, the defender of the fortress, to be organized with pomp. For the other son of Oedipus though, Polynices even a simple burial is prohibited. Antigone, the sister of the two fighters, stood up against the harsh royal order, facing the danger of the death penalty. In great secrecy, she surrenders the body of Polynices to the earth, thus fulfilling the obligation that, according to custom, the blood connection with the dead man demands.

Antigone's deed was quickly discovered by Creon who sentences her to death. However, she is fearless in the face of death, viewing it as a release from suffering. In the heated discussion between Creon and Antigone, a sharp clash of moral principles is revealed. Antigone, the frail and tender maiden, is endowed with a bold character, with a courage worthy of a fighter. Her strength to face the king is derived from the conscience that acts in the name of the ancient, unwritten laws, which summarize the traditional morality, deeply rooted in the Greek cities. Antigone will perish in prison, but Creon, who disregarded the will of the gods, will receive a severe punishment by losing his son, Haemon (Antigone's fiance), and his wife, who commits suicide by cursing her proud and reckless husband.

Final Note

It took me waaay longer than I intitially expected to make this thing. The fact that I forgot at one point about this post didn't help either. I've also considered including the myth of the Coronides as well, but I've already talked about it many times on this blog so I decided to end it with Antigone. I'm also aware of the fact that there are different versions of the exact same myth, as well as I might have accidentally included mistakes here and there. Also also, I realized that if I don't insert any humor I'll die out of boredom while making this, hence the dry jokes. Anyway, hope you'll like it! 👍

[20th-century-railroading]

Nuclear Casks by James Belmont Via Flickr: DODX (U. S. Department of Defense) caboose No. 905 trails a pair of Nuclear Casks with buffer cars on Union Pacific's Salt Lake City, Utah - Pocatello, Idaho merchandise train approaching Kaysville, Utah on May 10, 1992. The caboose was built in Nov. 1976, and is apparently still in service for the U. S. military.