#I can't wait to utilize my new powers

[aelswiths]

Leveling up 🥰🥰🥰

[exhaslo]

Over-Time

CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader!

Warning: MINORS DNI, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing

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"Dear, (Y/N), you have been selected to join us for a group interview at Alchemax. Please arrive at appointed date and time below. Read and follow all instructions to ensure your interview. We can't wait to meet you."

Unable to fathom what you had just read, a loud gasp escaped your lips instead. All you really read was interview. Everything else blurred out since you were so excited to finally have a chance to leave your current job.

"Oh my gosh! Do I even have the proper clothes for an interview there?! I can't believe it!" You whispered, resisting a squeal.

This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Alcehmax was one of the biggest companies in Nueva York. Everyone in their right mind wanted to get even a chance to work there. Hell, some people were happy just being a janitor there.

It was all anyone wanted to gloat about. Getting an interview was nearly impossible and yet, your clumsy ass managed to get it. You had prayed to every God you could think of. The questionnaire was a nightmare and where people failed the most.

"Okay, okay! I have to prepare...I have to practice..." You told yourself.

Interviews were hard for you. You were nervous around new people and freaked out when asked hard questions. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you just smiled. You got this far. You had an interview to take and succeed in.

---------

"Lyla, have we found anyone decent enough within the last two group interviews?" Miguel asked with a grumble.

Lyla, Miguel's private assistant, just laughed. She took off her designer glasses and placed them on Miguel's desk. Miguel was the CEO of Alchemax. One of the richest men in all of Nueva York, and a man with a quick temper.

"We have some potential candidates for the open slot in Marketing, but no one to replace me for when I go on my vacaaaation~" Lyla sang happily. Miguel felt his eye twitch,

"Yes, I know. You haven't stopped bragging about your damn vacation all week. Would have been nice if you mentioned it sooner-"

"Oh, don't give me that, Migs. I had it pop up on your calendar every week for the past three months reminding you! It isn't my fault you don't look."

"I am a busy man. You know that because you make my schedule," Miguel hissed lowly then pinched the bridge of his nose, "Just-Ugh, I just find me someone who won't try and suck my dick within the first week."

Lyla just snickered as she typed on her tablet, "You need to find someone. Maybe it will make you less of a grump." She mocked.

Miguel exhaled loudly, glaring towards his assistant. It was a good thing that Miguel could tolerate that woman. Lyla was a close friend of his and knew how to push his buttons.

Leaning back in his seat, Miguel closed his eyes as he took the moment to rest. Lyla was going to be gone for a few months. She sure knew how to utilize her vacation time. Hell, Lyla had a tough job dealing with him. She deserved it.

"I just need someone....quiet."

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How could a building give off such an intimidating presence? It was as if all those powerful inside were warding off the weak and frail. The start of a challenging, yet welcoming part of your life. If you managed to do good in the interview.

Inhaling deeply, you gripped onto your folder and finally had the courage to make your way inside. You heard the stories, but Alchemax sure was a force to be reckon with. The inside of the reception floor felt like another world.

You had arrived super early. You were scared of being late and well, knowing yourself, you were probably going to get lost. Hopefully, your clumsiness won't get in the way of your interview.

"Ah-"

Magic words. Just thinking of it alone caused you to goof up. You had accidently bumped into someone while admiring the inside of the building.

"I-I'm s-so sorry!" You stuttered, panicked that you were fucking up already, "I wasn't looking! I'm sorry!"

"It's alright. Are you okay?" The man spoke as you picked up your paperwork that fell.

Tears were starting to form as you thought of running away. Glancing up at the stranger you bumped into, you sniffed and tried to compose yourself. The man before you had bend down and helped with your paperwork.

"No need to be afraid, I won't bite." The man said with a warming smile. You gulped, finding him very attrative,

"I'm sorry again."

"Oh? An interview?"

"Ah, yes. I'm a little early, but since I've never been here I wanted to make sure...I wouldn't get lost," You admited as he handed your paperwork, "Thank you. My name is (Y/N)."

"Miguel,"

You stood up, staring at the towering man before you. That name sounded familiar, but you were so focused on your goof up to remember. Everyone was probably staring at you, laughing and knowing that you were probably going to flunk the interview now.

"Come, I'll take you to the floor you're going to be at. There are drinks in the lobby once you arrive. Help yourself."

"Ah, thank you."

You were just lucky to have bumped into someone as nice as Miguel. If it were anyone else, they would have probably made you feel worse than you already do now.

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Miguel stayed quiet as he led you to the elevator. He won't lie that it was slightly amusing to find someone who didn't immediately recognized him. That and quite refreshing. Miguel wondered what you would think if you found out that he was the CEO.

Glancing ever so slightly in your direction, Miguel couldn't help but smile. It was like you were in your own little world. You were fumbling with your fingers while you had a slight look of panic on your face. Honestly, that was how people should look for an interview.

Alchemax was not a place to enter with confidence.

"What position are you applying for?" Miguel asked, wanting to ease your nerves.

"Oh!" You gasped lowly, "Marketing."

"Hm. How good are you with planning and scheduling?" He asked casually. Your shoulders raised slightly,

"I, um, I like to...It's easier for me when I have everything in an itinerary. Makes for unnecessary distractions and delays. I find myself at ease with a schedule," You admitted with such a carefree smile.

"And organization?"

"If I'm not overwhelmed I'm great with organizing things." You chirped, "Oh, um, will I get a lot of people talking and asking me questions if I do get hired here? I...I'm just a little shy and if I get overwhelmed I do tend to be clumsy."

Miguel resisted a chuckle, finding you quite entertaining. After another second of silence, Miguel watched as you gasped and covered your face with your folder.

How cute.

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How embarrassing!

Just because he was a handsome face and kind to you, doesn't mean you could get comfortable! It took you hours to practice talking to yourself in the mirror to prepare for an interview and now you were blabbing away nonsense to a stranger!

Feeling the elevator come to a stop. You gasped lowly, admiring the lobby before you.

"Here is your stop." Miguel spoke.

"Thank you," You bowed your head slightly, still embarrassed from rambling off.

As you stepped off the elevator, you gulped. Nerves started to kick in as you took your first step to a better future.

"Oh, and (Y/N)," Miguel called out, causing you to turn, "Best of luck."

"T-Thank you!"

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Next Chapter

@timidquindim @decentsoupperson

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Lies, damned lies, and Uber

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in PHOENIX (Changing Hands, Feb 29) then Tucson (Mar 10-11), San Francisco (Mar 13), and more!

Uber lies about everything, especially money. Oh, and labour. Especially labour. And geometry. Especially geometry! But especially especially money. They constantly lie about money.

Uber are virtuosos of mendacity, but in Toronto, the company has attained a heretofore unseen hat-trick: they told a single lie that is dramatically, materially untruthful about money, labour and geometry! It's an achievement for the ages.

Here's how they did it.

For several decades, Toronto has been clobbered by the misrule of a series of far-right, clownish mayors. This was the result of former Ontario Premier Mike Harris's great gerrymander of 1998, when the city of Toronto was amalgamated with its car-dependent suburbs. This set the tone for the next quarter-century, as these outlying regions – utterly dependent on Toronto for core economic activity and massive subsidies to pay the unsustainable utility and infrastructure bills for sprawling neighborhoods of single-family homes – proceeded to gut the city they relied on.

These "conservative" mayors – the philanderer, the crackhead, the sexual predator – turned the city into a corporate playground, swapping public housing and rent controls for out-of-control real-estate speculation and trading out some of the world's best transit for total car-dependency. As part of that decay, the city rolled out the red carpet for Uber, allowing the company to put as many unlicensed taxis as they wanted on the city's streets.

Now, it's hard to overstate the dire traffic situation in Toronto. Years of neglect and underinvestment in both the roads and the transit system have left both in a state of near collapse and it's not uncommon for multiple, consecutive main arteries to shut down without notice for weeks, months, or, in a few cases, years. The proliferation of Ubers on the road – driven by desperate people trying to survive the city's cost-of-living catastrophe – has only exacerbated this problem.

Uber, of course, would dispute this. The company insists – despite all common sense and peer-reviewed research – that adding more cars to the streets alleviates traffic. This is easily disproved: there just isn't any way to swap buses, streetcars, and subways for cars. The road space needed for all those single-occupancy cars pushes everything further apart, which means we need more cars, which means more roads, which means more distance between things, and so on.

It is an undeniable fact that geometry hates cars. But geometry loathes Uber. Because Ubers have all the problems of single-occupancy vehicles, and then they have the separate problem that they just end up circling idly around the city's streets, waiting for a rider. The more Ubers there are on the road, the longer each car ends up waiting for a passenger:

https://www.sfgate.com/technology/article/Uber-Lyft-San-Francisco-pros-cons-ride-hailing-13841277.php

Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. After years of bumbling-to-sinister municipal rule, Toronto finally reclaimed its political power and voted in a new mayor, Olivia Chow, a progressive of long tenure and great standing (I used to ring doorbells for her when she was campaigning for her city council seat). Mayor Chow announced that she was going to reclaim the city's prerogative to limit the number of Ubers on the road, ending the period of Uber's "self-regulation."

Uber, naturally, lost its shit. The company claims to be more than a (geometrically impossible) provider of convenient transportation for Torontonians, but also a provider of good jobs for working people. And to prove it, the company has promised to pay its drivers "120% of minimum wage." As I write for Ricochet, that's a whopper, even by Uber's standards:

https://ricochet.media/en/4039/uber-is-lying-again-the-company-has-no-intention-of-paying-drivers-a-living-wage

Here's the thing: Uber is only proposing to pay 120% of the minimum wage while drivers have a passenger in the vehicle. And with the number of vehicles Uber wants on the road, most drivers will be earning nothing most of the time. Factor in that unpaid time, as well as expenses for vehicles, and the average Toronto Uber driver stands to make $2.50 per hour (Canadian):

https://ridefair.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Legislated-Poverty.pdf

Now, Uber's told a lot of lies over the years. Right from the start, the company implicitly lied about what it cost to provide an Uber. For its first 12 years, Uber lost $0.41 on every dollar it brought in, lighting tens of billions in investment capital provided by the Saudi royals on fire in an effort to bankrupt rival transportation firms and disinvestment in municipal transit.

Uber then lied to retail investors about the business-case for buying its stock so that the House of Saud and other early investors could unload their stock. Uber claimed that they were on the verge of producing a self-driving car that would allow them to get rid of drivers, zero out their wage bill, and finally turn a profit. The company spent $2.5b on this, making it the most expensive Big Store in the history of cons:

https://www.theinformation.com/articles/infighting-busywork-missed-warnings-how-uber-wasted-2-5-billion-on-self-driving-cars

After years, Uber produced a "self-driving car" that could travel one half of one American mile before experiencing a potentially lethal collision. Uber quietly paid another company $400m to take this disaster off its hands:

https://www.economist.com/business/2020/12/10/why-is-uber-selling-its-autonomous-vehicle-division

The self-driving car lie was tied up in another lie – that somehow, automation could triumph over geometry. Robocabs, we were told, would travel in formations so tight that they would finally end the Red Queen's Race of more cars – more roads – more distance – more cars. That lie wormed its way into the company's IPO prospectus, which promised retail investors that profitability lay in replacing every journey – by car, cab, bike, bus, tram or train – with an Uber ride:

https://www.reuters.com/article/idUSKCN1RN2SK/

The company has been bleeding out money ever since – though you wouldn't know it by looking at its investor disclosures. Every quarter, Uber trumpets that it has finally become profitable, and every quarter, Hubert Horan dissects its balance sheets to find the accounting trick the company thought of this time. There was one quarter where Uber declared profitability by marking up the value of stock it held in Uber-like companies in other countries.

How did it get this stock? Well, Uber tried to run a business in those countries and it was such a total disaster that they had to flee the country, selling their business to a failing domestic competitor in exchange for stock in its collapsing business. Naturally, there's no market for this stock, which, in Uber-land, means you can assign any value you want to it. So that one quarter, Uber just asserted that the stock had shot up in value and voila, profit!

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2022/02/hubert-horan-can-uber-ever-deliver-part-twenty-nine-despite-massive-price-increases-uber-losses-top-31-billion.html

But all of those lies are as nothing to the whopper that Uber is trying to sell to Torontonians by blanketing the city in ads: the lie that by paying drivers $2.50/hour to fill the streets with more single-occupancy cars, they will turn a profit, reduce the city's traffic, and provide good jobs. Uber says it can vanquish geometry, economics and working poverty with the awesome power of narrative.

In other words, it's taking Toronto for a bunch of suckers.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/29/geometry-hates-uber/#toronto-the-gullible

Image: Rob Sinclair (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Night_skyline_of_Toronto_May_2009.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

[seat-safety-switch]

SO-LAR-FUCKING-POWER. Or, as the appearance-obsessed image consultants want us to refer to it now, "photovoltaic energy." Yeah, okay, nerds. A lot of people have been shit-talking solar in the press, because they're afraid that individuals will set up their own power generation facilities in their backyards, roofs, sheds, community centres, what have you, and start pumping out electricity. That will make the big electricity corporations sad, so they've paid all these handsome people to come on the news and yell about it.

Let me put it this way: if there were a magic machine in the sky that shot out a bunch of candy bars every day, like an absolute shitload of Milky Ways, and you were hungry, would you run out into the backyard with a bucket? Or would you feel bad about it because Bob Milky Way, up there in his hateful Cadbury tower, is no longer able to perpetuate his existing business model?

Personally, I've gone big-league on solar, mostly because the utility company disconnected my house after decades of non-payment. Now, I can't afford the new stuff: even the cheap panels that the proud people of China throw onto AliExpress are too costly for my budget. What I've done instead is dig through the landfill (after hours, of course) for several hundred solar desk calculators.

These calculators are electronic devices that we used to use before smartphones in order to compute numbers. And they ran on the sun, because replacing batteries is annoying. After breaking open the calculators, I looped their solar cells together in series, and eventually built a big enough panel to cover my entire roof.

When I say it like that, it sounds easy, and this is the myth of engineering progress: it was actually a lot of stop-and-go stuff, bumps in the road. Rooftop fires. Wiring fires. I fell off the roof a few times. The cops came by at one point and were idling in front of my house, waiting to see if I'd come outside so they could bust me for stealing all those calculators from the dump. In the end, though, I am now able to charge my phone for free, and even run my coffee maker if it's a particularly sunny day. That coffee is the best-tasting coffee I've ever had, because it tastes like billionaire tears.

And I won't stop there, either. Things are going to improve dramatically at the old Switch Family Solar Array as my bougie neighbours throw out their old panels in order to upgrade to the latest and greatest. Pretty soon they'll be paying me to take them – I have it on good authority that the dump charges you like minimum $20 this weekend. If you flip to the last page in my investor deck, you'll notice that I have projected to be able to run my refrigerator by 2025. You better get in on this shit, or we'll bury you with the coal.

[wandafiction]

Water Fight - Just Us Chapter 31

Warnings 18+: Fluff, Smut, Thigh Riding (Wanda), Slight choking,

Word Count: 3679

Series List | Chapter 30 | Chapter 32

================================

"Okay what's the game plan?" Me, Yelena and Natasha are standing at the back of my car looking at all the water guns. 

"I want that one." Yelena's eyes have a devilish glint to them as she points out the gun.

"Okay so Yelena gets the Super Soaker Hydra." I grab it, passing it off to Yelena as she takes in the details of the plastic toy.

"Natasha, which one do you want?" Natasha doesn't speak, she just leans in the back grabbing out another one of the big guns, I also don't miss the pistol she puts behind her back. "The Super Soaker Soakzooker, excellent choice."

"What about you Y/n?" I turn to look at Yelena, a smirk growing on my face.

"I've got my baby right here." I open up a box in the back that I hid the gun in to make sure I got it. "Brand new Spyra Two."

I chuck the rest of the guns in a duffle bag, there are a few super soakers, a couple of pistols and one of those small rubbish pistols for Nathaniel to use as he is still too little to pump the guns properly to get them to work. We make our way into the house, checking our corners to make sure we are not going to get caught on our sneak attack, hopefully everyone is still in the garden. 

"Psst, come this way. Will can fill them up in the sink out here then sneak out the side door." Natasha waves me and Yelena over to the utility room, filling up the large sink so we can fill the guns up. 

All the guns take a while to fill up, because of course we had to choose the biggest of the lot but once we are ready we make our way to the side door that opens up to the side of the backyard that you can't see from the decking. Natasha leads, with Yelena close behind and me at the rear as she slowly and quietly opens the door swiveling her head left from right to make sure no one is in view. She lifts her hand in the air wiggling one finger silently, telling us to follow her. 

"Are you sure you're not a Russian spy Natasha, this all seems very tactical." I hear her huff out a laugh rolling her eyes at me as she turns to face me.

Just as she is about to say something we hear laughing close by and we simultaneously press our backs to the wall, crouching down to try and hide ourselves a little more. When the laughter moves away from us Natasha slowly slides her body along the wall putting her head past the corner to check the surroundings, holding up a fist to tell us to stay where we are. Me and Yelena hold our breath waiting for Natasha's singal.

We wait…

Her finger waves us to move as she moves around the corner.

"WATER FIGHT!" Yelena shouts as she rounds the corner immediately aiming for Sharon, firing with no remorse and laughing like a crazy person when she gets her right in the face. "Bullseye!"

I turn to see the children running away, so make my way towards them as Tommy and Billy group together to protect Nathaniel. If I wasn't so interested in attacking them with my water guns I would have melted at the sight, but I couldn't let it distract me. They hid Nathaniel behind their bodies who was shouting out about how the alien is after him. 

"Don't worry Nathaniel, we will protect you." Billy raises his arms in front of him, like has some sort of magic powers that are going to stop me.

"Your powers aren't going to stop me Billy." 

"Billy take Nat, I will distract her!" I smile at the nickname they have given him as Tommy shouts at them as he runs towards me, jeez Wanda's right this kids quick...but not as quick as me.

I turn my body running after Tommy who is already a few paces ahead of me, so as I am running I move my gun to aim for his back. When the cold water makes contact with his shirt he squeals a bit zigzagging around to try and put me off. He makes his way up the decking, essentially trapping himself so I spray him a few times and he dramatically collapses to the floor shouting 'man down, man down'. 

I turn around to search the backyard for the other two boys taking in the sight of Yelena chasing Sharon as she vaults over a plant pot or two showing off the skills Shield has obviously taught her as she avoids heavy fire from the young Russian. I also see Wanda, who has been cornered by Natasha, holding her hands in front of her face to try and stop the water as she laughs that gorgeous angelic laugh of hers. I pull my eyes away from watching Wanda, looking over to where I see Billy and Nathaniel running towards Wanda to go and help her. I smirk as I vault over the railing landing in front of them causing screams of horror to leave their mouths as they slide to a complete stop in front of me.

"Go Nathaniel!" Nathaniel darts back the other way as Billy holds up his hands waving them in the air. 

I stop all my movements like he has got me in his trap, frozen on the spot. His eyes widen slightly as he looks at his hands then back to me with a smirk. His smirk drops when my hand twitches, the gun moves ever so slightly upwards as the water makes contact with his face.

"I'm too powerful to be stopped by you Wiccan!" 

"Wiccan?" He tilts his head, wow he is just like his mother.

"Uh, yeah just came up with it now. Like you're some form of wizard with what you were doing with your hands."

"Oh cool. I like that." 

"Good because it's sticking."

"Does Tommy have a nickname?" As I'm about to answer I realise he is just trying to distract me so I shoot his forehead one more time.

"Don't distract me." He laughs at me as I scoot past his body searching the backyard for Nathaniel, smiling when I see his small body behind a tree. 

I take quiet steps till I'm close enough to the tree to get the rascal. I see his hand move to his mouth as he tries to hold his breath, obviously sensing that I'm close, but it's too late for him because I jump around and start shooting at his body. He shrieks as he runs back towards the other people who all stop their movements when they hear a very horrific scream only laughing when they realise it's Nathaniel being very dramatic. They all laugh as I wrap my arms around him instead of shooting him with water, and he kicks his legs around and he screams to the twins for help.

They make their way over to me trying to pry my arms open to allow Nathaniel to escape. I quickly bend down to place Nathaniel on the ground, as he turns to run away I quickly grab the twins wrapping my arms around their bodies so I can hold one under each arm. Damn they are heavier than I expected. So I don't drop them on the floor. I quickly make my way to the edge of the pool that is in the backyard and the boys look up at me in pure horror. I turn to Wanda to make sure it's okay to chuck them in, and as soon as I get a small nod I take a few steps back running towards the pool. As I jump I let go of the boys making sure to push their bodies away from me so we don't end up colliding as we go underwater. 

I bring my head up below the surface of the water, as the boys make their way to me pushing me back under. I flail my hands while under grabbing a leg of one of the boys, I hear a muffled scream from underwater as I pull the body under with me and push myself off the bottom of the pool so I come to the surface. I see Tommy above the surface so it was Billy I dragged under, I wait until he pops back above the surface before I swim towards Tommy who makes a quick swim towards the stairs. 

Tommy manages to get out of the pool, running towards Wanda and the other woman who have been watching this whole thing go down with Nathaniel standing there, his small body wrapped in a fluffy towel as his lips have a tiny hint of blue, he must have been standing still for too long. Instead of continuing the chase with Tommy, I stop and turn to Nathaniel even though we are having fun I can't let my little brother die of hypothermia.

"Do you want to dry off and get changed or do you want to put your swimming shorts on and get in the pool with me?" I see Tommy poke his head out from behind Wanda as he realises I have put a pause on the game we were playing.

"Ca-can I get in the pool. I want to p-p-play some more." His teeth chatter a little as he speaks.

"Of course let's get you warmed up a little first." I pick up his tiny body, making sure the towel stays securely on him and I tuck the extra length under his feet so he doesn't drip water through the house. 

"Can someone show me where our bags are please?" 

"I will come with you. Come on boys you should get into your shorts too if you want to stay in the pool." Wanda takes the lead as the four of us follow her inside, the other woman heading back to the table to catch their breaths and finish their drinks.

"Tommy, Billy your clothes are in Yelena's room so you can get changed in their and the bathroom opposite. Y/n and Nathaniel, your clothes are in the guest room with mine." 

Tommy and Billy disappear into a room on the left side of the hallway while I follow Wanda, Nathaniel still in my arms as he snuggles closer to me trying to keep warm, to the end of the hallway. She holds the door open for me and I place Nathaniel on the bed as I go to grab his bag, picking up his red and blue swim shorts. 

"Alright buddy, up." He pushes his body off the bed, as I bend down to match his height, rubbing my hands up and down the outside of the towel to help dry him off a little while creating some warmth. 

"Here you go buddy." Wanda pulls one of the blankets off the bed wrapping it around his small body to try and help warm him up.

"Thank you Miss Wanda."

"Wanda is just fine, bud." She gives him a gentle smile as she strokes a hand through his short brown hair.

"Okay Wanda." He shuffles his body closer to her, as she wraps her arms around him moving them up and down to help keep him warm.

"Are you warming up?" 

"Yes thank you Wanda." 

"Good. I will leave you to get changed, just come and get me when you're done so I can get sorted." 

"Okay. Thank you Wanda." I could really kiss her right now, but Nathaniel would witness. Wanda seems to be thinking the same as she takes my hand in hers and gives it a light squeeze, stroking her thumb on my knuckles before letting go and making her way out of the room.

"Okay buddy let's get you sorted so you can play in the pool."

Once Nathaniel is changed I tell him he is okay to go back outside as long as he is with the boys or one of the adults in the pool, while I get changed myself. Before he leaves he gives me a hug and squeezes me tight.

"You okay there buddy?" He nuzzles his head into my neck.

"I'm okay. I'm really happy right now! Thank you for today. It has been a lot of fun! Can we do this again sometime?" I stroke my arm up and down his back as a smile fondly at his request.

"Of course we can. We will talk to Wanda and maybe organise something with the boys and we can bring your brother and sister next time too. How does that sound?" 

"Amazing!" He gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek before trying to wiggle out of my arms. "Can you put me down now please? I want to go and play again."

He gives me the biggest puppy eyes ever, so I give into his request giving him a quick kiss; and place him on the ground. I'm amazed when I see him calmly walking out of the room, closing the door behind him. He must know not to run in the house. I make my way to my bag pulling out my bikini, which is a Nike sportswear one as I'm not very comfortable with wearing two pieces of fabric held together by string. Instead this has high waisted bottoms, and a crop top like top. It gives me enough coverage to be comfortable but still shows off everything a normal bikini does. It's a win, win for me. 

I have just finished changing my bottom half, and as I'm taking my top half off I hear the door of the room open and close in quick succession and then a small click. I turn my head to see Wanda leaning against the door as she drinks me in with her eyes, her bottom lip between her teeth. 

"Take a picture it will last longer." What I don't expect to hear or see is the sound and flash of her phone taking a picture. I turn my head to look over my shoulder ready to give her the 'really' look, but when I see her eyes darkened with lust a small smirk plays on my lips. I see another flash. When she looks down at the picture and then up at me I see her gently squeeze her thighs together, eyes closing when she catches me staring. 

"Like what you see princess?" All she can do is nod, her lip still between her teeth as she puts her phone down on the desk by the door, her hands resting on her thighs gently scratching at them with her nails. 

I turn my whole body around now, her eyes drop to my chest a small whimper leaving her mouth as her thighs clench even more. I start walking towards Wanda as her eyes watch my every movement moving from my chest, to my chiselled abs back to my chest then up into my eyes. I come to a stop in front of her, looking down at her as she looks up at me, her pupils blown wide open with lust. I place my left hand on the door just above her head so I can lean over her some more, but leaving enough room for her to move if she needs to. 

My right hand comes to rest on her cheek, stroking it gently, before using the tip of my index finger to draw a line from her cheek, down her jaw to her neck then from her neck to her shoulder. My finger is barely touching the skin but goosebumps grow along her skin the further I get, her body arching slightly to get closer to me wanting more friction. My finger dances down her arm until it reaches her hand where I place my palm in hers, pushing my fingers between hers. I move my left arm down to do the same with the other arm, before suddenly moving them up above her head using one hand to hold both her wrists. My right hand coming down to hold her waist, holding her against the door.

"These stay here babygirl. Is that okay?" She gives me a nod. "Words babygirl."

"Yes, please, just please."

"Desperate, much? What's going you so riled up?"

"You." She states quickly.

"What have I done?"

"Vaulting over the railing. God that was so fucking sexy, like my god I didn't realise your muscles could look any better and then they tensed and your veins. Don't even get me started on your veins." She lets out a moan as I push my knee between her legs putting pressure on her core, she starts moving her hips riding my thigh.

"Keep going." My hand on her waist helps guide her movements against my leg, letting her know I am more than okay with her bringing herself to an orgasm.

"And when you did those press ups. Baby you're so strong, your muscles nearly broke through your shirt. I've had to control myself all day, to make sure I didn't drag you into the bathroom to let you take me. I need you." Her voice is becoming breathy the more she rides my thigh.

I stop her movements for a second, she lets out a small whine but moans when my hands make contact with her clothed core. I move my hand to the band of underwear pulling them down till they fall to the floor. I slam my lips against hers in a passionate kiss, keeping her arms above her head as I put my leg back between hers. The grinding of her core against my thigh immediately continues and I can feel the trail of wetness her movements are leaving behind.

"That's it babygirl. Work yourself up for me. Be a good girl and make yourself cum on my thigh." Her pace picks up as moans and sighs leave her mouth. I let go of her wrists, her hands drop to my shoulders for support and I bring the hand down to her neck giving it a slight squeeze.

Her breath hitches in her throat.

"Is this okay babygirl." She nods but then sees the look on my face.

"Yes it's more than okay." 

"Good because you have to be quiet there are other people here." Wanda bites her bottom lip to suppress her moans as her movements become erratic against my thigh.

"Please baby I'm so close." 

"Please what babygirl?" I squeeze her throat a little tighter, before releasing the pressure not wanting to hurt her or leave a mark.

"Please can I cum, I want to cum." 

"You've been such a good girl controlling yourself all day, so cum for me." I move my mouth against her ear, poking my tongue in her lobe to see how she reacts, I hear a moan from the back of her throat and smile. "That's it babygirl. Be a good girl now, cum for me."

With those final words her hips jutter as her head flings back against the door, eyes rolling to the back of her head. Her back arches, her body coming into contact with mine as I feel her juices release onto my thigh, her nails digging into my shoulders, one of her hands flies to her mouth to muffle her moans. Her hips move lazily against my leg a few more times before her body completely relaxes against mine slumping into me.

"You okay princess?" I cup her face with my hands, moving her hair behind her ears.

"More than okay." I smile down at her bringing our lips together for a few seconds before leaning my forehead against hers.

"Feeling better." She smacks my arms gently as I let out a small laugh.

"Rude, but yes so much better."

"Well seeing you cum against my thigh is something I'm not going to get out of my head." She hums as she pecks my lips a couple of times. "I think I am going to shower before I head back downstairs don't want to get in the pool with you all over my leg " 

Wanda's face flushes at the thought, burying her head against my chest to try and hide it. I don't say anything but start stroking my hand through her hair. After a few minutes of calm she rests her chin against my chest looking up at me. 

"Y/n I...I…I…" She bows her head, becoming all shy before taking a breath and looking back up at me." I want to join you in the shower."

"Won't your friends and the boys wonder where you are?" She shakes her head.

"Natasha told me to stop staring and just get laid. Her words not mine, she was fed up with me just watching you. And Yelena and the boys are playing in the pool." 

"Okay well I'm more than happy for you to join me." I grab her hand, dragging her into the ensuite locking the door behind us. 

I wonder why she got so nervous about asking to join me? I would never say no. Unless she wanted to ask something else but got too shy or nervous. I will speak to her later about it. For now I am going to enjoy this shower, which is definitely not going to stay PG for very long. I hear the water turn on and see Wanda stepping under it and I can't help but stare at her.

"Take a picture, it will last longer." I laugh at her using my own words against me as I step in the shower to join her.

"Your beauty cannot be captured by a single moment. A picture would do what I see in front of me no justice because you are too beautiful to describe, you Wanda are ethereal." 

"And you Y/n are ravishing." 

================================

[ultraviolet-cello]

Gooooood morning Trigun fandom, I'm up bright and early, ready to sink my teeth into today's analysis/detailed watchthrough episode - 11. To A New World.

I can't believe we're almost done with @tristampparty. These 12 days have been a blast and I'm very glad that I got to chat abt them!! I've been in a bout of artblock recently too, so I'm glad that I can just ramble instead!

Spoilers for Trigun Stampede and Trigun Maximum, and CWs for. okay this one is a Lot, but discussion of violation of bodily autonomy, sexual assault and trauma, pregnancy, transphobia, harm coming to children, Millions Knives in general, Vash's passive suicidal tendencies. If I think of any more I'll pop them up here but this episode is a heavy one!

If you wanna skip those first few CWs (Totally understandable <3), you can skip the paragraphs labelled with a [CW] at the front.

[CW] Okay so we're gonna tail off the end of Episode 10 for a second, but uh. Knives in this scene is using extremely Loaded Language to outright tell Vash that there is something wrong with him that needs to be fixed.

Just to be clear I do think Vash is very trans-coded (intentionally or not), and that very strongly influences how I interpret this scene - I myself am a trans man as well.

Cool, moving on! That's all really for the end of ep 10, I just needed to point out that Knives is using language that is commonly used to justify corrective sexual assault; which is pretty much what my reading of this scene is analogous to.

what in the fresh hell i got jumpscared by dub again. returning to subs hold on a moment. Like i've been checking dub occasionally to match up some dialogue and make sure I'm not being misled by Subtitle Jank but I'm one of those guys who can't listen to anything without subtitles lmao

But i also think i do get the funniest possible translation of this line - actually wait no i hate the double meaning (with Vash's body being used to kickstart the pregnancy imagery). was that intentional. who did this.

Anyway Meryl kicking Wolfwood is really funny but also like. Yeah. justified. She's having a no good awful time but like. She's so willing to believe in Vash, to chase after him even into Extremely Dangerous conditions (There's those hints of Trimax Meryl again....) and Wolfwood is being an ass here. (An understandable ass. But an ass nonetheless). Which is to say YEAHHH MERYL GET HIS ASS!!!

Knives' gay little like. bodysuit here. He and Vash have the same build but their respective clothes make them stand out very differently. Also that Knives' stuff seems to have more muscle definition (HYDRATE. You shouldn't have that Knives you need water :pensive:) which could be building towards his more intimidating appearance.

Also I'd be a fool to not show everyone my initial reaction to this

I've talked a little bit about how Vash uses his gun as a tonfa (thwacky baton) most of the time in melee combat, and I think that's a great way to show him utilizing something Knives gave him to Kill as a nonlethal weapon - in this, however, he doesn't have it and his normally very fluid very good form martial arts is flailing and panicked. Vash is pretty good at keeping his cool in most combat situations, and is a very skilled fighter. Seeing him lose that cool and just start struggling when Knives tries to grab him is :(

Once again the metal/organic dichotomy is coming into play - the creation of inorganic but the destruction that comes from the organic. Typically plant (as in flora) powers in media lend themselves to being creation powers, life, and healing. But Vash here has that plant (flora) theme but those are very much a force for destruction.

Also Knives with the angelic white, and Vash with the black.

I hate Conrad So Much (he's such a good character). Like we Know to some extent that dependent plants are self-aware enough to feel pain, to hold onto memories, to hatred, to love. They don't have consciousness the same way humans or Independents do, but they feel, they live, they understand what Vash tells them. Maybe it is a shallow form of themselves. But I think something a lot of people fail to realize is that (some, not all, because they are individuals even throughout a hivemind) plants appear to enjoy their purpose.

Once again the memory that is shared with Knives in Trimax of a woman and her child thanking the plant for her service and she smiles? After being fused, that plant held onto that memory. I've been given no reason to believe that plants in Tristamp are different, so Conrad is just,,, ignoring the subtleties of plants and taking away their agency to choose for themselves. Doubly so for Knives, who can communicate efficiently with them.

A very quick blink and you'll miss it detail is that Vash says "It was our fault humans crashed here!". The shifting blame and guilt between the two is something that is fighting the narrative allll the time, but Vash attributing to both of them as an appeal to Knives is interesting to relay how he feels.

I also don't think Vash is right, though, when he says the only reason humans abuse plants is because they crashed. Tesla was before, Chronica in Trimax has apparently seen independent fusions before (For what reason?). Like yeah to this extent it's a result of the big fall, but there'd still be problems without it. Nobody is right in this argument lmao

(except me. I'm always correct about everything ever)

[CW] Once again - violating Vash's consent and autonomy because he does not agree with or differs from Knives. Corrective violation, in this case. It's also important that it's Meryl who calls this out - she has to really really struggle for her autonomy to be important. She's small, carry-able, inexperienced, doesn't have any special powers or genetic modification. She's carrying a tiny gun from a man who can never back her up anymore. In fact, nobody is backing her up! She's out here alone! But she's sticking up for Vash. She cares about him,,,, so much

SURPRISE ROBERTO ATTACK [sobs]

Meryl pulled the nail out of him and placed his hands gently over the wound, as one might do in a casket. A memorial of cigarettes and his flask. All this will be destroyed soon, but Meryl did give him a funeral to the best of her ability.

Knives using Roberto's image is cruel as hell. Not to Vash but to ME. He's already dead you can't do this to meeee. "How do you think they'll react when they learn you caused the big fall" He will never learn it!! he never got the chance!!!

So fun fact you can actually eat geraniums. It's just that if Rem had said yes Vash probably would have eaten it right there and then. I've made that mistake before (told one of my class that nasturtiums were edible and he just ate one. right from the plant)

So; the Tesla scene. Something I do want to point out is that Rem finds them almost immediately, and Knives doesn't immediately pass out - Is he still catatonic enough to miss Rem's speech, or did he hear it? Because the reason that Vash turned out like he did is because he was awake to go through that with Rem - Knives was unconscious the entire time and didn't get to start that trauma recovery.

It's also important to recognize that these memories could be unreliable, especially as Knives tampers with them later.

I do want to know which version of the Bible Knives was reading. Because depending on translation/version, you can get Very different ideas out of that.

Anyway Knives is kind of beginning his spiral in that memory - "Humanity never learns" kinda shit, which seems to take place after Tesla. Who knows how long. But baby Vash calls that out and goes "yeah lets have faith"! Baby Knives looks a tad shocked and then Present Knives just. Cuts off the memory. What was the ensuing conversation!!! Hello???

Like he's clearly Having Thoughts (The Horror), we just don't get to know what those were.

So remember when I said it was interesting that Vash said it was "our" fault that the ships crashed, sharing the blame?

Yeah that gave Knives some ammo that just. Broke him. Shifts it allllll to Vash. Update Vash's description to running on 18 guilt complexes, CPTSD, and bisexuality.

[CW] There's so many different forms of assault, metaphorical and. Not. That is happening in this scene from mind violation to Knives literally using Vash's (specifically Vash's) body as a vessel to impregnate other plants which. Hey did you know that pregnancy is a massive fear of a lot of trans men. So many transphobes reduce trans men to their capability to have children, as if that's all they're good for (even if it would kill them.), and that often leads to corrective rape in order to "remind them of biological reality". In this case, Vash is a plant, he's meant to create, and yet he doesn't. But he's still being used to create anyway.

Again, Meryl also directly calls out Vash's lack of consent and gets shot down by Conrad. The whole scene is just. Hgnrhgnhrhnrnrn. It's So,,, everything to me, because it's a really good scene and shows you how far gone Knives is in Tristamp.

There are panels in Trimax that are,,, the imagery is there, but it's very overt in Tristamp.

Also hey yeah. Why is Conrad still alive?? Did he have access to cold sleep? or it's probably the robotics but did he not think of enhancing humans that way? It might just be a temporary solution, I guess, given that he is. Actively coughing up blood.

Alright! I have finished this part of the analysis that I always Feel Strongly about lmao - I have fun doing it but that's such an emotionally heavy episode.

[sarawritestories]

Stressed Out

Harry Wells X Fem Reader

Flash Masterlist

Summary: Y/N has been feeling stressed at her day job along with being one of Central City's Heroes. At her breaking point she storms away after having enough of Harry and Cisco criticizing her every move. As she sits at Jitters, Harry pays her a visit.

A/N: I'm so sorry for my lack of posting and getting requests out. Writing has been hard as the stresses of the real world so my inspiration has been low. However I have now gotten a wave of inspiration so there will be an influx of stories

Content Warning: Stress, random outburst of anger, Low self esteem (in the form of not feeling good enough)

Word Count: 1730 words

Tags: @eonash @yetanotherwells @twilightlover2007 @achromaticerebus

Emails flooded Y/N's inbox, all from Captain Singh, breathing down her neck about getting paperwork done and micromanaging how she responds to emails. She had been making small mistakes, typos on files, forgetting to sign document or dropping a piece of evidence and it shattered on the floor. No matter how careful she has been a mistake on her end pops up racking up anxious feelings.

Harry and Cisco have not helped her in anyway in S.T.A.R labs critiquing how she is not moving fast enough in the field, that her take downs are sloppy and causes too much damages. That they are tired of repairing her suit. The constant nagging coming from all fronts was beginning to cause a storm cloud of doubt to loom over her head. She felt uneasy and the stress and pressure she put on herself to do better and move more efficiently , all the while taking the criticism and swallowing the sinking feeling that settled in her stomach.

 Her computer pinged with a new notification, pulling her from her thoughts, that Captain wanted to see her in his office. She closed her eyes and count to ten before she responded that she would be right down and closed her laptop grabbing it and heading down the stairs to his office. Joe, Barry and Singh were in the office grim looks on her face. “Shut the door, Y/L/N.” Y/N felt bile rising in her throat as the door clicked shut.

By the time the meeting met its end, Y/N had to utilize all her will power to not cry. She made a beeline for the elevator, “Y/N, Y/N wait!” Barry's voice boomed in the bullpen. She slowly turned and saw Barry feigning that he was catching up his breath, holding up his phone with the notification a fire was happening, “Duty calls.”

In a blink of the eye they were at the fire of the high rise builder, hero attire on. “I'll take care of the fire, you clear the building to make sure everyone gets out safe.” Y/N nods and Barry speeds into the top floor of the building and Y/N began her descent down the floors, clearing each floor there was a scream on the third floor and she made her way there. A crying child was curled up in the corner, with speed she grabbed the girl and as she turned the whole floor caved in. The girl screamed.

Y/N held the girl close and whispered soothing words. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath she took a running leap to get reach the doorway. She sped through the floors making sure there was no one left into the building before she got out of the building the young girls face tucked into her shoulder. A weeping older woman takes a look at the young meta with the girl in her arms and makes a dash toward her. “My baby!” She held her arms open as Y/N whispered to the girl causing the child to lift her head and squeal with joy and leap into her mother's open arms. The mother cradles her child's head rocking her soothing her sobs. The mom meets Y/N's eyes, “Thank you so much!”

Y/N gave her a small smile, “She'll need to be checked on by the paramedic.” She squeezes the mom's shoulder as she walks away and reaches her friend. “Everyone is out.” Barry's eyes widened and begin patting at her only then realizing her suit was on fire. “Can't wait to hear about that when we get back to the labs.” She mutters as Barry zooms them into the cortex of the lab.

Team Flash, begin talking stats about their current rescue mission. Y/N took off her mask, getting lost in her thoughts. As she takers off her jacket Cisco's voice boomed in the cortex, “Seriously, Y/N, can you go out, and maybe not destroy your suit.”

Y/N grips the chair tightly as she closes her eyes. Through clenched teeth, “Get right on that, Cisco.”

“I mean these materials are not cheap you need to be more careful.” Cisco keeps prodding on and on. Y/N kept counting to keep herself calm.

The pit in her stomach began grow as Harry walks in. “Who was in the lab last?”

Y/N groaned, “I was.”

Harry's steps approached her, “All the tools that I spent an hour and half sterilizing were on the floor, would you happen to know anything about that?”

Tears began to form and Y/N's resolve began to shrink opening her eyes to meet his, rage bubbling over, “Yes, Harry, I was running late and was so frustrated I decided to pull a you and throw everything on the floor.”

“That's cold, Y/N,” Cisco muttered as he began to clean the suit on her jacket.

“I was being sarcastic, you ass!” Cisco and the teams head snapped, “Harry, it was an accident, I'm sorry. I never intend to make you grumpier than you already are. But hey Barry got to watch me get suspended today because as much as I fuck up at being a hero, I can barely do my day job right.” Harry took a step back as Y/N took a step forward. She was about to explode and took pause, “You know, with the way everyone gets a pass for the mistakes they make, I apparently make so many that just causes everyone more problems and more work. I think I'll take myself out of the equation.” She looks at Cisco, “Keep your suit,” her gaze moves to Barry, “You can have the lab to yourself,” She finally meets Harry's intense gaze with his furrowed brows, “You'll never have to worry about me causing you any more problems, Doc.”

She makes her way out of the cortex elbowing Harry, and Cisco out of the way and left the labs tears streaming down her face. Leaving Team Flash taken aback by the sudden outburst.

 Not wanting to go home she made her way over to jitters. Y/N placed her order and waited for her drink to be made. She wiped her tears as she thought about how useless she feels. She grabbed her drink and sat at one of the high-top tables and let her thoughts her.

A tap on the table caused her to jump where her eyes met familiar blue ones shadowed under a cap. “Hey, Princess. I had a feeling you would be here.” He took the seat across from her interlacing his hands together, “What's going on with you?”

“Was I not clear? I was suspended from work, and when I'm not getting my flaws pointed out at work, my shortcomings are getting pointed out by you and Cisco. I can take a hint, the team is better off without me.” She shrugged and took a sip of her drink.

Harry's furrowed his brows, “How long have you been feeling this way?”

Y/N shrugged, “It comes and goes but that feeling of usefulness has been elevated this past week. I make too many mistakes, I'm human its going to happen I work hard to not make them again, and I feel like if I lash out or defend myself, I’m not taking criticism well. If I keep making mistakes I'm not growing, I just feel stuck and that I can't say anything without some form of backlash.” Her eyes began to water, as the words are pouring out of her. “I am not perfect, and I feel like I’m not even wanted anywhere or by anyone.” Y/N realized how much she was dumping all her feelings onto him “I'm sorry. I know you have gone through worst things and that you're probably only here because the team made you. Its just the stress builds up and I explode.” She stood from her seat and tried to muster up a small smile, “I’ll catch you later, Harry.”

Harry grabbed her arm, “Sit back down,” he looked up at her and muttered, “Please.” With a reluctant sigh she sat back down. “Princess, listen to me very carefully,” Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she swiped them away. Harry rubbed his hand over his mouth averting her gaze for a moment to figure the right words. “I’m not the best at bringing comfort, I am not the best in dealing with conflicts. Jessie is the first person to call me out on this and holding me accountable,” He placed his hands over hers on the table, “I do know one thing, you are something special.” She met his gaze, his eyes holding a level of intensity. “You work hard, and you are the Team’s beacon of light when all hope seems lost. We would be lost without you and probably would have fallen apart if it wasn’t for your optimism and kindness. Even when we don’t deserve.”

Y/N cast her eyes down to their hands and Harry gave Her’s a comforting squeeze. “If that is how everyone feels, no one ever treats me like I’m valuable. Not at work, not anywhere. Harry, you have been the hardest on me,” she sniffled, “All I have wanted these past few weeks was a friend to tell me that it was going to be okay.”

Y/N heard the chair move and suddenly she felt a hand under her chin and lifted her head up to meet his blue eyes sadness flooded his gaze. “Princess, I’m so sorry.” He pulled her into a tight embrace. She took a moment to register that she was in his arms before she wrapped her arms around his waist and let the emotions of the past of the few weeks release and sobbed into his shoulder.

Harry leaned his head against hers rubbing soothing circles on her back. “I know I’m not the greatest friend. But I need to you know that I care for you extremely, Y/N.” Y/N’s sobs were slowly turning into soft hiccups. “I promise I will do better to be there when you need me.” He softly pushes her away and rubs the tears from her cheeks and leaves his hands resting on her cheeks, “Just tell me what you need.”

Y/N nod and without thinking twice she reached up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, “Thank you, Harrison.”

His cheeks flushed and gave her an awkward smile, “Anytime, Princess.”

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Ficlet: Miraculous Strike

(Based off Six Hundred Strike)

(Seriously, go listen to the Epic Concept album)

Bug noire felt her body shaking. Even with her new abilities it wasnt enough to compete with all the powers that Monarch had.

She felt herself sinking into the water below.

But as she sank, she remembered all of Paris, the world, Her friends, Her partner, Adrien... She couldnt end it now!

[Kwami ensemble] Mir-a-cu-lous (Miraculous) Mir-a-cu-lous (Miraculous) Mir-a-cu-lous (Miraculous) Mir-a-cu-lous (Miraculous)

Bugnoire bursted from the water, utilizing her space power up, Her eyes glowing green and red. Cosmic Bugnoire was not going to give up! She charged at Monarch

[Bugnoire Singing] I don't think you seem to get it I can't afford to die 'Cause I will get back to my love And I will get back to my life

For every hero, every one of my friends Almost all of whom have suffered by your hand Miraculous strike!

Bugnoire managed to fling his weapon away and began hitting him with countless strikes

[Kwami ensemble] Mir-a-cu-lous (Miraculous) Mir-a-cu-lous (Miraculous) Mir-a-cu-lous (Miraculous) Mir-a-cu-lous (Miraculous)

[Monarch, spoken] You idiot

Monarch, his butterfly miraculous had been swiped away into the water, now laying, exhausted, his back against the coffin.

[Monarch] Can't you see? You sealed your fate just to bеat me You removed my miraculous when you attacked me Stopped your only chanceNow you'll never save them

[Bugnoire, spoken] You're goin' to call off your Alliance [Monarch, spoken] Or what? You can't kill me.

He said as he activated the miraculous of the bull and the Chicken. Making it so he will not die and resisting any cataclysm. Bugnoire did not change expression [Bugnoire, spoken] Exactly

Bugnoire lifted her staff, and it changed, making it more like a sharpened spear.

[Monarch, spoken] Wait Wait, ahh Ugh!

[Bugnoire , Monarch screaming] How does it feel to be helpless? (Argh) How does it feel to know pain? (Ugh) I watched my friends all suffer (Ah-ah) Crying as they were in pain (Ugh) I heard every moment (Argh) Calling their leader in vain (Ugh) Look what you turned me into (Ah-ah) Look what we've become(Ugh, enough) All of the pain that I've been through (Stop) Haven't I suffered enough? (Stop) You didn't stop when I begged you Told me to close my heart(You) You said the world was dark(Monster) Didn't you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our—

[Monarch, spoken] Alright, please!

Bugnoire drops the staff. She takes off each one of his rings, He told her where all the controls were to stop the invasion.

[Monarch, spoken] After everything you've done How will you sleep at night?

[Bugnoire, spoken] Next to your son.

She took them and left him there as she went to go save the kwami that she knows were in the mansion somewhere.

[rjzimmerman]

Many of you know that I'm a lawyer, retired, but still a member of the bar. I don't practice law (can't), but I still read professional articles and media reports about environmental law and other laws that interest me. From my humble perspective, some of the recent decisions of the US Supreme Court are invalid because the decisions were issued by the Court acting not in its constitutional capacity of a court of appeals, but acting as a court of original jurisdiction. If I'm correct (and I'm sure I can find a slew of right wing lawyers who are laughing at me), then the executive branch of the US government, i.e., the President, is not obligated to enforce those decisions. Plus, the ethical issues of Justice Thomas.......what the fuck is he doing participating in a decision on trump's January 6 sins when Thomas' wife was furiously clicking away on e-mails encouraging the rioting and insurrection? Wishful thinking, but somehow sometime somewhere something dramatic has to happen to smack down the Supreme Court, or at least create some sense of doubt in their tiny little pointed heads.

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

A spate of decisions over the past two years by the Supreme Court has significantly impaired the Environmental Protection Agency’s authority to limit pollution in the air and water, regulate the use of toxic chemicals and reduce the greenhouse gasses that are heating the planet.

This term, the court’s conservative supermajority handed down several rulings that chip away at the power of many federal agencies.

But the environmental agency has been under particular fire, the result of a series of cases brought since 2022 by conservative activists who say that E.P.A. regulations have driven up costs for industries ranging from electric utilities to home building. Those arguments have resonated among justices skeptical of government regulation.

On Friday, the court ended the use of what is known as the Chevron doctrine, a cornerstone of administrative law for 40 years that said that courts should defer to government agencies to interpret unclear laws. That decision threatens the authority of many federal agencies to regulate the environment and also health care, workplace safety, telecommunications, the financial sector and more.

But more remarkable have been several decisions by the court to intervene to stop environmental regulations before they were decided by lower courts or even before they were implemented by the executive branch.

On Thursday, the court said the E.P.A. could not limit smokestack pollution that blows across state borders under a measure known as the “good neighbor rule.” In that case, the court took the surprising step of weighing in while litigation was still pending at the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit.

The court also acted in an unusually preliminary fashion last year when it struck down a proposed E.P.A. rule known as Waters of the United States that was designed to protect millions of acres of wetlands from pollution, acting before the regulation had even been made final.

Similarly, in a 2022 challenge to an E.P.A. climate proposal known as the Clean Power Plan, the court sharply limited the agency’s ability to regulate greenhouse gas emissions from power plants, even though that rule had not yet taken effect.

That kind of intervention has little in the way of precedent. Usually, the Supreme Court is the last venue to hear a case, after arguments have been made and opinions have been rendered by lower courts.

“This court has shown an interest in making law in this area and not having the patience to wait for the cases to first come up through the courts,” said Kevin Minoli, a lawyer who worked in the E.P.A.’s office of general counsel from the Clinton through the Trump administrations. “They’ve been aggressive on ruling. It’s like, we’re going to tell you the answer before you even ask the question.”

Collectively, those decisions now endanger not only many existing environmental rules, but may prevent future administrations from writing new ones, experts say.

“These are among the worst environmental law rulings that the Supreme Court will ever issue,” said Ian Fein, a senior attorney with the Natural Resources Defense Council, an advocacy group. “They all cut sharply against the federal government’s ability to enforce laws that protect us from polluters.”

The march of environmental cases is not over: The court has agreed to hear a case next term that could limit the reach of National Environmental Policy Act, the 1970 law that requires federal agencies to analyze whether their proposed projects have environmental consequences. Businesses and industries have long complained that the reviews can take years, inflate costs and be used by community groups to block projects.

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 23)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 12,675

Summary: It’s been more than a year since Madrid and even longer since the chaos of Colombia. As they settle into a new life in Laredo, their past no longer holding them back, Javier’s career change helps him reconnect with his roots whilst Horacio’s plans for the future of the farm and ranch start to take shape.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut (including leather/cowboy kink and power dynamics), grief, parental loss, religious themes and symbolism, discussions of period-typical prejudices/violence/politics/legislation, smoking, drinking, swearing.

Notes: Well, here we are at the final full chapter 👀 No one is more shocked than me that I've made it here tbh 😂 For so long, it felt like finishing this fic was an abstract concept, but somehow, I persevered!

I don't really know what else to say right now, other than, an epilogue will (all being well) be posted on Friday 1st March...exactly 3 years after I posted chapter 1. Don't ask me how 3 years have passed, because my brain cannot compute lol.

The epilogue will be much, much shorter than this chapter, but I think it rounds their story off nicely and I can't wait to share ❤️

Thank you once again to anyone still reading, or anyone who may read this at some point in the future. As always, comments/flailings/key smashes etc. are greatly appreciated 😊

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested (and there's plenty to choose from for this one…in fact, I had to split my trivia post into two as I ran out of space, oops lol).

Chapter 23: Desde La Frontera

As the faded blue truck pulled up in the front yard, the moon sat full and high, casting a pale glow over everything beneath it. A key turned in the lock of the sleeping cottage, the silver hue from above illuminating a convenient pathway, negating the need to switch on a light.

Javier shrugged off his boots and jacket in the kitchen with a weary sigh and deposited his keys in a dish on the table. The hand-painted ceramic bowl had been sent with love from Madrid as a housewarming gift, along with framed artwork of the city they left behind that hung above their bed, a bottle of olive oil, a small jar of saffron, and some homemade turrón.

It wasn’t easy saying goodbye to Señora Romero, the café or their apartment. For all of the unanswered questions they arrived in Spain with, it became their safe haven. Although they were under strict instructions not to leave it too long before visiting again, and who were they to turn down good company and an endless supply of hot, fresh churros?

The rustic limestone cottage had less square footage than the farmhouse next door but was over two stories rather than one. A decked porch ran along the perimeter with wooden chairs and plants at the front, facing a complex of outbuildings and stables. A swing seat big enough for two resided at the back, looking out onto a medium-sized garden with a chicken coop and the rolling farm fields and river bank lying beyond.

The front door opened into a hallway where boots, coats and hats were tidily stored – at Horacio’s insistence – which led to a spacious kitchen/dining area and an adjoining utility room with a door to the garden on the other side. A second hallway branched off the kitchen towards a lounge with a centrepiece stone fireplace and a staircase up to two bedrooms – a master and a smaller spare – and a bathroom.

Whilst the interior still needed some work, fresh coats of paint – off-white for most of the rooms with splashes of eggshell green in the kitchen – and the exposed ceiling beams restored with an oak oil stain gave the place a new lease of life.

The wall clock opposite the kitchen window ticked past 3:00am. Fuck, no wonder Javier felt so beat. He manoeuvred his way upstairs, slow and careful, to avoid the creakiest boards. They may have stripped and waxed the floors, but that apparently didn’t cure the squeaking of the well-worn wood underfoot.

He must have succeeded on this occasion, as it wasn’t until he got to the top that he was met with Luna’s wagging tail. He whispered a greeting to her and rubbed behind her ears until she returned to her sleeping spot beside Sol and Leo, who hadn’t even stirred. Sometimes, the trio would bed down for the night here. Other times, it was just Luna. Rarely, it was none of them now that they had two new rivals for Chucho’s affections next door.

Kira was a six-month-old Great Pyrenees, her thick coat a solid white with pale tan patches. Fuego, a male copper red and white Border Collie, was a couple of months older and already chomping at the bit to get amongst the cattle. Although they both still had to undergo a lot of training before they would be put to use on the ranch, Javier and Horacio got the distinct impression Chucho enjoyed being kept on his toes again.

Javier finally reached his destination but gave himself an extra few seconds to take in the view.

Horacio was nestled beneath their sheets on his stomach, his torso rising and falling in a calming rhythm that Javier was convinced could have lulled him to sleep if he wasn’t standing up.

He undressed, throwing every item of clothing straight into a rattan hamper in the corner of the room, keenly aware he needed to shower but too tired to do anything about it now.

Instead, he perched on the edge of the bed, basking in Horacio’s long eyelashes, rough stubble and unrulier-than-usual hair that was tantalisingly close to becoming a head of curls if he didn’t get it cut soon. Not that Javier was complaining.

He tried to be restrained and let Horacio sleep, but he was only human.

A faint groggy sound came from Horacio’s throat as delicate lips met his forehead, his lashes flickering until they couldn’t resist any longer.

Javier hushed as he gently crawled on the bed, draping himself over Horacio and kissing the nape of his neck. “Sorry it’s so fucking late. Just go back to sleep.”

“You’re making that difficult right now.” Horacio arched his back in response to the warm breath tickling his bare skin as Javier’s mouth worked between muscular shoulder blades.

“Shouldn’t be so irresistible.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No. I’m not.” Horacio twisted around far enough for Javier to slide off his back and onto the mattress, allowing them to properly embrace. And so Horacio could put his own mouth to use.

That was as far as it was going for the night, though. Horacio had an early start in the morning, and Javier didn’t want to fall asleep before they could finish.

“Did it all go okay?” Horacio asked once they had got comfortable.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, there was a delay with the paperwork, as usual. But once we were on the road, it was fine. Heavy traffic around San Antonio, but I almost had the I-35 to myself on the way home.”

“And the family?”

“Exhausted and drained, obviously. Fuck knows when their hearing will be. But at least they’re together again and safe for now.”

Javier wasn't only clueless about the date of the hearing, he couldn’t predict the outcome of it either. That wasn’t his remit. By the time the Torres Fuentes family were in front of an immigration judge, he would have helped countless more families and individuals like them. Their circumstances weren’t always the same, but their options were just as limited.

Not all days – or nights – were like this one. Sometimes, Javier would be on translation duties on the frontline of the border, triaging and directing people towards help, whether it be medical attention, food, water, toiletries, a change of clothes, a shower, or a bed for the night. Or, more than likely, access to a lawyer. His and the fleet of other aid workers for charities, not-for-profits and NGOs would be some of the first non-threatening faces new arrivals would see once the INS was finished with them, and that wasn’t a responsibility he took lightly.

Other times, he would deliver bond money to detention centres in exchange for someone's freedom, help people fill in forms and paperwork, or run community outreach sessions, reminding people of their rights. He had even hosted several families at the guesthouses for a night or two until safe transportation could be arranged for travel onward to relatives or sponsors elsewhere in the States. Flights were usually not an option for most due to a lack of papers, so the preferred method was long car journeys split between drivers like Javier. No two days were ever quite the same because no two stories were ever the same. There were commonalities, but subtle nuances and complications came with the territory of human lives.

“You did everything you could to help them.”

“I know. Just makes you realise how fucking…fragile it all is. And how fucking lucky we are.”

There was no denying luck – and money, of course – played a role in Horacio securing a visa and the Holy Grail of a green card for being an investor in the States. But Javier had also utilised an old contact at the US Embassy in Bogotá to expedite Horacio’s application. Her name was Colleen, and she had, with great reluctance, helped him secure visas for several informants in the past.

The silence over the line when Javier had uttered Horacio’s name was long, loud and awkward. But just like with his informants, she didn’t ask any questions and did him one last favour on the proviso she never heard from him again.

“We are. And I’ll never forget that.” Horacio’s palm connected with Javier’s cheek, flecks of moonlight highlighting the dark circles under his eyes. “You look exhausted, too.”

A soft chuckle filtered through the shadows. “Thanks. Sorry for waking you, though. I know you’ve gotta be up early.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m glad you did wake me. Once I’ve done the usual rounds, I’ll probably be in meetings most of the day. So, I won’t see you until late.”

“Better make the most of you now, then.”

Lingering kisses followed, but they knew it was fruitless to fight the fatigue.

“How’s everything going with the business plan?” Javier asked once he had accepted defeat.

“So far, so good. I want to go through everything with your father again before everyone arrives. Just to make sure he’s happy with it all.”

“I’ve, er, got it on pretty good authority he is.”

Horacio rolled his eyes. “I know. But it’s his money invested in this place as much as ours. And it’s not like I’m the expert.”

“Not yet. And he trusts you. They all do. You’re no longer a new face around here, remember.”

“I know. But I’m still learning the ropes, and I’m not the one in charge anymore.”

“You sure about that?”

There was a suggestive edge beneath the drowsiness in Javier’s voice. If Horacio looked hard enough through the darkness, he would have seen a quirked brow thrown his way.

“Well, I still have my moments.”

Javier mumbled a lazy hum of agreement. “I’ll say. But don’t worry about tomorrow, okay? You’ll be fine. Trust me.” He managed one last kiss for good measure, even though his eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

A muffled “I do” was pressed into the shell of Javier’s ear as he flipped his body around, his back cushioned against Horacio’s chest. Calloused fingertips weathered by hard labour nowadays rather than a trigger found their home resting on the curve of Javier’s stomach, eliciting a meditative sigh from both as they huddled down.

It didn’t matter that one of them would be up soon with the dawn chorus while the other might be called away past the midnight hour. Because they knew how lucky they were, not only after all they had been through but compared to so many who crossed the border to start a new life. And it was impossible to take that for granted.

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For all that had changed, wall-to-wall meetings and stacks of paperwork were two guaranteed constants to remain. No matter the career path Horacio chose, he was apparently destined never to escape their clutches.

The morning and most of the afternoon – with a short break for lunch – had been spent poring over business plans, maps and spreadsheets with Chucho, his accountant, Miguel, and the ranch and farm managers, Marco and Félix.

Horacio was still adjusting to being the least qualified person in the room again. But the fact that he was even privy to such meetings in the first place was a privilege not customarily afforded to ranch hands without much experience under their belts. It was hard to gauge what others thought about his…unique position here. But he was also an investor whose name, along with Javier’s, was on the title deeds of the farm. Even if people didn’t know about them, it stood to reason that he would be consulted about any development proposals.

Between his money and the safety net of his connections – whatever some may have speculated the precise nature of those were – to a well-respected ranching family, Horacio, so far, hadn’t had too many problems. Not even when shadowing or attending training courses off-site, and he was surrounded by heavy Texan drawls and the type of man who had the propensity to make his feelings clear with his fists – or a gun – if he found out a fellow rancher shared a house and bed with another man.

But the odd off-hand comment had made Horacio wonder if they knew more about his past employment than he realised. In which case, perhaps in their eyes, getting on the wrong side of the former head of Search Bloc wasn’t a wise move.

Regardless, this was what he had signed up for. And for all his investments and networking, there were no cutting corners in ranch and business management, beef production, animal science and equine studies. The Peñas were far from the only family business in the industry, and most had grown up a lot more hands-on than Javier. Horacio could never have leapfrogged over them even if he had wanted to.

By late afternoon, the meetings were done for the day – although there would be plenty more to come – leaving Horacio and Chucho to check on the pregnant heifers. The calves weren’t due until early April, another month away and just in time for Horacio’s birthday. But it was all hands on deck between now and then to ensure it went as smoothly as possible. Their main job today had been to weigh the expectant mothers, who, thankfully, all turned out to be healthy and on the right track.

Broken shards of light bounced off the ranch’s steel fences and gates as Horacio and Chucho sat on the farmhouse porch enjoying a well-earned break, the sun’s heat beginning to show glimpses of what it was capable of during the summer months. Bluebonnets blanketed the fallow fields, and the saccharine scent of yucca blossom travelled on the early spring breeze.

Chucho stirred a freshly made pot of tea and filled two cups to the brim, sliding one across a wooden table towards Horacio, who accepted with a nod of thanks.

“So, do you think it went okay today?” Horacio asked after a quenching sip of tea.

“Better than I expected, to be honest. Félix worked for Ciro and Malena for many years. I wasn’t sure he’d take to new ownership. Or if he’d even want to stay. But he seems to be on board with the idea of expansion.”

“What about the rest of the workers Ciro and Malena employed?”

“A few moved on or retired. But most don’t care who’s in charge as long as they're getting paid.”

“And what about here? Have many left or cut ties since…” Horacio trailed off, hoping he had done enough for Chucho to follow his train of thought without saying it out loud.

“Not many, no, Mijo. And only the ones I’m glad to see the back of.”

“Not many?” Horacio scoffed into his cup, sending ripples across the surface of his drink. “So, still some, then.”

“As I said…only those I don’t want the ranch to be associated with anyway. It's no loss if they can’t keep their noses out of my family’s business.”

The thing was, Horacio and Javier had everything to lose if the wrong person found out. One phone call was all it would take for the police to be banging down their cottage door. After all, that had happened to plenty of others like them in Texas. It had happened to plenty of bars and restaurants that ended up either raided or burned to the ground, the owners and patrons harassed, arrested, beaten to a bloody pulp, or worse. But Horacio couldn’t bring himself to say any of this to Chucho, so he took extra time swallowing his tea instead.

“From what I’ve heard, the majority see you’re a hard worker. You’re willing to learn the ropes. But you’re not afraid to get stuck in or take the lead if needed. You’re professional with the contractors. And you’re trusted to do a good job. That’s worth a lot around here – a lot more than gossipers. I may not know what it’s like for you both...but I do know not everyone’s like them.”

A smile reflexively spread across Horacio’s lips. “My Mamá said similar back in Manizales.”

Chucho mirrored Horacio’s expression. “She sounds like a wise woman.”

“She is.”

“And proud of you. As I’m sure your father would be. Starting over again is never easy, but what you and Javi have done here…I'm proud, too.”

“Thank you. Me too, to be honest.” Horacio let out a brief huff. “When Javier told me what he wanted to do, it was like the final piece slotted in place. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.” He shook his head this time at how blindingly obvious it was once Javier said it out loud. “But I think he needed to leave to be able to come back again.”

Chucho hummed into his tea. “That’s the thing about the past: you can’t outrun it. And once you let it walk alongside you, I think your path becomes clearer.”

For the second time that afternoon, Horacio could scarcely believe his Mamá and Chucho hadn’t met yet. But he was looking forward to the day that would change.

“A few years ago, I never thought this could be my life. Or that I wanted it to be. But now, even though it’s not easy work, and the hours are long, and I’m starting from the bottom of the ladder again, everything just feels…” He broke off, searching for the right word.

“Simple?” Chucho supplied.

“Yes. Simple.”

After Horacio finished his tea and saddled up Coco ready to help move the herds into the barns before nightfall, he didn’t mind that his legs were stiff from all the sitting in chairs he had done today. Or that the last thing he felt like doing was wrangling contrary cattle.

He didn’t mind that it would be more of the same at the break of dawn tomorrow and a long road ahead of grafting and proving himself. He didn’t mind that he wouldn’t catch up with Javier until they shared a late dinner once Javier had driven back from Austin. He didn’t mind if complete strangers couldn’t stomach what they got up to behind closed doors as long as they were left alone to live in peace.

He didn’t mind any of it because they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

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No matter what profession he worked in, it was rare for Javier to take a weekend off. He’d accepted a long time ago he wasn’t the 9-5 type, and leaving it all at the door once he clocked off had never been an option. But a new batch of aid workers and volunteers had arrived in the last few weeks. And once Luz, his boss, got wind of an upcoming birthday in the team, she insisted Javier finally use up some vacation time.

Luz Díaz was someone Javier could call a friend as well as his boss these days, especially in light of their parallel circumstances. While Luz was an aid worker on the border, she lived with Carla Moreno, the daughter of a dairy farmer several miles to the south. However, unlike Chucho and Elena, their parents, whilst not hostile, preferred to brush their daughters' relationship under the carpet wherever possible.

When Luz accompanied Javier to the guesthouses with a new family one afternoon, she had first crossed paths with Horacio. Until then, Javier had played his cards close to his chest, never knowing whether it was safe to trust anyone. But it hadn’t taken Luz long to put two and two together – or for her to realise she could share her secret in return.

Birthdays had held no real significance for Javier since childhood. But his Pops was determined to invite him and Horacio to the farmhouse for dinner that evening. In the meantime, once Javier had escaped work by mid-afternoon, he headed home to freshen up and grab a drink. It may have been late October, but the Texan heat was a stubborn son of a bitch, and was still hitting the mid-90s several times a week.

A neatly written note was pinned to the fridge that read In corn barn, so Javier took a UTV and headed across the farm. It was quieter now the harvest was over, and the cattle from the ranch had grazed on any leftovers. The herds were back next door, allowing bales of corn stalks to be gathered up and stored ready for use as bedding for the livestock on chillier winter nights.

The latest calves had thrived since April and only had two months left before they would be weaned off their mothers. Usually, several were sold at auction, but they had kept hold of them this time due to the extra space. Now the harvest was out of the way, the next step was to clear the lower fields and build a new gate linking the ranch with the farm.

When Javier arrived at the barn, Horacio was unloading the last batch of bales off the trailer.

Horacio paused for a second when Javier came into view, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Where did you get that?”

“It was on the passenger seat.” Javier gestured to the parked UTV. “Does it suit me?” He tipped the brim of a Stetson to match the one Horacio was already wearing.

Given the similarities between their outfits, anyone would have been forgiven for thinking Javier was an employee. They both wore belted dark blue jeans – Horacio’s more mud-splattered – brown boots and plaid shirts with rolled-up sleeves – Horacio’s brown and white and Javier’s green and red. The most noticeable difference was Horacio wore a white bandana around his neck whilst Javier’s shirt collar was wide open, his neck on full display.

Horacio silently lifted the side of the trailer back up and locked it now that it was empty. He shrugged the protective gloves off his hands one by one and flung them into the cab of his truck.

He followed Javier into the barn and closed the door, but his attention was on the wall opposite. A long row of hooks was hung across it, where various pieces of equipment were kept, including overalls, brushes, and a wide range of horse tack.

On the last hook was a coiled lariat, which Horacio picked up and stood facing Javier several feet away. He threaded the rope through the Honda knot until he held a loose loop in his right hand, his hungry gaze fixed on Javier as his wrist built momentum over his head in measured circles.

Before Javier could react, the tip of the rope found its target, tightening around his waist, his feet involuntarily taking him forward as Horacio reeled him in. Even when they were chest to chest and breathing hard, Horacio didn’t let up his grip on the rope.

“You know it does,” Horacio eventually rasped at the shell of Javier's ear.

Javier shivered at the timbre of Horacio’s voice, the earthy scent of the land combining with the heady musk of sweat, remnants of mud and dust still visible on his face and arms. “Someone’s been practising.”

“Well, it is a special occasion.” Horacio tugged on the rope, pressing their bodies together until his lips found Javier’s neck, stubble scratching along his jawline, finally brushing over his mouth.

Javier took the bait, responding with a full kiss, distracting Horacio enough to drop the rope. Then it was all bets off as his hands journeyed over Horacio’s back, first dipping southwards, palming his ass through his back pockets, then northwards to remove the bandana and roam under his shirt. But something made Javier pause mid-way.

He looked at Horacio for an explanation but was met only with a coy smile.

“Happy Birthday.”

Javier’s brow quirked suggestively of its own accord. “I thought we weren’t doing presents.”

“I can take it back if you’d prefer.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. Now, shut up and drive us home.”

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No sooner were they back at their cottage than Horacio straddled Javier’s lap on the couch, teeth nipping as they grabbed handfuls of fabric or skin.

When Javier made to unbutton Horacio’s shirt, Horacio stilled his attempts. “Not yet.”

Instead, his mouth ghosted over Javier’s as his fingers slid down to his belt, unbuckling it unhurriedly and deliberately.

Their laboured breaths filled the silence, the rich scent of earth and woodsmoke heavy on their senses.

“Touch yourself,” Horacio finally said, his order clear, voice steady.

It was all Javier could do not to come on the spot. But he managed to exhale through his nose, his lips pursed as he wrestled back a semblance of control.

He let his right hand slide down to his zipper, which he knew Horacio had left closed on purpose. He gradually unfastened it, his palm disappearing out of sight.

A hitched breath and tensed thighs let Horacio know Javier had made contact even before Javier’s wrist began to twitch.

For several strokes, Horacio merely observed, drinking in every detail of Javier’s face, each jaw movement and shuddered breath, their eyes locked together as Javier took himself in hand.

Horacio couldn't hide that he was more than a little affected by the show beneath him, so he upped the ante, his fingers seeking out the buttons of his shirt, popping the top one first, then the second, third and fourth.

He stopped there, giving Javier another sneak peek of the surprise he had planned for more months than he cared to admit. He could see Javier had noticed the tantalising glimpses of brown leather drawn tightly against bare skin and could feel Javier’s motions speed up.

The remaining buttons followed, allowing the shirt to fall over the broad expanse of Horacio’s shoulders until it hit the floor.

“Fuck.” Javier’s hips spasmed, slamming against Horacio’s crotch in the process and triggering a chain reaction of panting. “Shit, Horacio. Where did you – how –”

Javier was cut off by a finger at his mouth and a soft hushing sound.

Horacio pressed a digit to Javier’s lips until it was engulfed by wet warmth. “Keep going.”

As Javier’s tongue swirled and his cheeks hollowed, he set back to work, building up friction along the shaft and over the head. It was like a switch flicked in Horacio during moments like this when he was all smoky rasps and concise commands. It was the closest Javier had ever got to experiencing Colonel Carrillo first-hand, and nothing was as intoxicating.

When Javier was being regarded and instructed so intensely, he had no choice but to submit. Anything to please the force of nature who made him come harder than he ever had done in his life. And so, he kept going, fist clenched around his cock, edging himself with each edict echoing in his ears.

Running across Horacio’s chest below his pectoral muscles was a leather strap linked to another one on either shoulder that crisscrossed over his back, his biceps restrained by matching cuffs. The leather was a worn cognac brown with intricate stitching, decorative studs and buckles like the vintage cowboy belts the harness appeared to be made from.

“You like it?”

Javier’s free hand hypnotically reached up to Horacio’s torso, fingers tracing each detail of the leather in between cupping Horacio’s pecs and tweaking his nipples.

“Beautiful,” was the only word he could muster. It was by far the best birthday present Javier had ever had. Although, if he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed Horacio was trying to make this his last one.

Horacio was conflicted between watching and needing more, so he compromised by subtly rocking against Javier’s inner thigh whilst continuing his role as a voyeur. Knowing his voice alone could get Javier off was a power trip Horacio never grew tired of, even after all these years. In fact, since his career change, it had become more arousing because being in charge was a novelty now.

He brought two fingers to Javier’s lips again, which were taken greedily without the need to be told.

“Good, that’s it, and another.”

All three digits rested on Javier’s tongue as Horacio probed back and forth with increasing vigour, leaving no doubt what he had in mind as a string of saliva connected from mouth to fingers when he finally withdrew.

Horacio transferred his glossy hand straight to his chest and across his nipples, flicking the pad of his thumb over each bud just the way Javier liked to lick them.

When Horacio looked back up, Javier was tugging in a frenzy, his breathing ragged and fraying at the seams, dangerously close to it all being over.

Horacio reached out to stop Javier’s wrist, leaning closer until his lips brushed against his ear. “Not before I’ve ridden you.”

Javier immediately extracted his hand from his jeans with a huff of frustration, resenting Horacio almost as much as wanting to be fucked. Every man had his limits, and his were rapidly being reached.

With both hands free, he alternated between hot, smooth skin, the textured leather and cool metal. He slid his fingers beneath the harness, imagining all the positions he could manoeuvre Horacio around.

His hands travelled down to Horacio’s ass, pulling him further into his lap as their mouths crashed together at long last. From glutes to thighs, Javier embraced each one until he met resistance under the denim of Horacio’s jeans.

Javier ran his fingers over it a few times. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Javier growled as he lunged for Horacio’s belt and zipper, both men making light work of removing his jeans.

Whilst Horacio stood up, he took the opportunity to undress Javier and reach over to the drawer beneath the nearby coffee table. He rummaged around until he retrieved what he was looking for and stashed it on the sofa.

There was no holding back now as nails raked over hot skin and tongues connected, rough and harsh, their cocks jutting between their stomachs. Javier’s hands glided over and under the leather straps, descending beyond until his palms massaged Horacio’s cheeks apart, wider with each circular motion, his knuckles teasing up and down the cleft.

The tremor that ran through Horacio was enough to cause Javier’s arm to stretch across the sofa until he located the bottle of lube, expertly flipping the cap open and pouring liberally.

He alternated between his middle finger and thumb in a corkscrew motion, letting Horacio stretch around him, Horacio’s forehead dropping to Javier’s shoulder, teeth grazing flesh as he held their cocks in his fist.

It wasn’t long before Horacio lowered himself, steadily taking inch by inch. He initially held still, experimenting with nudges up and down as he braced his arms on the back of the couch.

A winded noise escaped Javier’s throat as Horacio sunk deeper with more force this time, gyrating his hips until he found a rhythm.

Javier was torn between the mass of muscle and leather at his fingertips but settled for clinging to the front of the harness, pulling Horacio further onto his cock.

A strained grunt left Horacio’s throat, prompting him to re-adjust so his feet were planted flat on the sofa cushions, the change in angle plunging him to new depths. He paused, giving them a chance to catch their breaths. And then, without further warning, Horacio squatted down.

The echo of his ass hitting Javier’s thighs was enough to make Horacio do it again. And again, over and over, the slap of skin on skin louder each time.

One of Javier’s hands scrambled aimlessly around for an anchor, eventually finding the couch’s arm where Horacio’s Stetson had landed earlier in the proceedings.

Javier snatched hold of the brim and brought it towards them, depositing it on Horacio’s head. “Keep it on.”

Horacio was powerless to refuse when it made Javier’s cock twitch and pulsate, massaging Horacio’s prostate as he bounced at just the right angle, his own length sliding up and down the plains of Javier’s chest and abdomen.

Now the hat was in place, Javier's hands sailed over Horacio’s thighs, pausing as he made contact with the leather band around his right thigh. He couldn’t believe Horacio had not only remembered their dirty talk the morning after Trujillo’s wedding but that he had brought Javier’s fantasy to life. And it was better than even his wildest dreams could have imagined.

A part of him wanted to remove the garter just so he could re-attach it. But he was mesmerised by the way the leather stretched around Horacio’s thigh as his pelvis pulsed back and forth, up and down, and round and round.

His fingers gravitated south, landing where the two men joined together. “Fuck,” Javier choked out, rubbing in circles around the wet rim, feeling the thrumming heat of his own cock, and wishing he had a better visual of them moving as one.

“Lie on the floor.” In complete contrast, Horacio’s cadence was calm and in control, like he was directing his horse.

Javier did as he was told, his body cushioned by a thick grey, black, and ivory Zapotec rug.

Without hesitation, Horacio sat atop Javier’s thighs with his back to him, presenting the perfect view as though he had read Javier’s mind. As he re-seated himself, he reached behind, spreading his cheeks wider as he sunk lower.

A strangled whimper was drawn from Javier’s chest as he raised his head for a closer look once Horacio started to move. He ignored the strain in his neck and replaced Horacio’s hands with his own, each palm cupping and squeezing, pushing forward, fingernails clawing, urging his rider to go faster.

In response, Horacio deepened the roll of his hips and balanced his hands on the rug beneath them.

They had picked it out on a trip to San Antonio the previous year, one of their first joint purchases for the cottage. And now they were finally christening it, surrounded by an array of décor and furnishings they had chosen together since. For their own home, an unthinkable notion in the not-so-distant past. Yet here they were against all odds.

Javier grasped the latest addition to their household, pulling Horacio by the harness in all directions as though he was the jinete (horseman) steering the reins rather than the steed being mounted bareback. But Horacio was the one wearing a Stetson. The one in the saddle daily, strengthening and toning his muscles even more than they already were, and Javier could already feel the difference.

He let go of the harness, his fingertips skimming Horacio’s voluptuous upper arms, rump and thighs, caressing the tight leather cuffs, pressing the sharp chill of the buckles against fiery skin until a shockwave rippled through Horacio and straight to Javier’s cock.

As Javier’s hips involuntarily bucked, their rhythm faltering in a chorus of moans, Horacio was beginning to regret not utilising a belt or one of the lariats from the barn as restraints on Javier’s wrists. But he changed his mind when he felt a crisp slap across the ass like a quirt used with overzealous force. But unlike the horses – with whom he was always gentle  – Horacio had no objection to the sting left behind.

In fact, it only spurred Horacio on, his ass lifting higher with each strike, building momentum, one hand stimulating his own cock in tandem.

Javier could feel rather than see Horacio jerking off, and his pelvis began to automatically plough upwards again, trying and failing to keep in time when he was this far gone.

“Horacio,” Javier breathed out, his tone pleading, desperate and wrecked.

“Tell me what you need.” Horacio wasn’t going to make it as easy this time. If Javier wanted something, he would have to use his words.

“I need you on all fours.”

And so Horacio dismounted, willing and waiting to give Javier everything he asked for, a complete 180 in a matter of minutes.

Javier wasted no time and fell in place behind Horacio, lining himself up and propelling forwards with a rough thud, nails digging into hipbones hard enough to leave marks.

As Horacio took himself in hand once more, Javier slowed to bask in a bird's eye view of his cock disappearing and reappearing, his thumbs spreading Horacio wider to get a better look at where they became one. It would have been easy to take it for granted by this stage, but he never did, not when they had been forced apart by circumstance and geography so many times before.

Whilst Javier was distracted, Horacio threw back his hips, causing a hiss of pleasure that inspired him to do it again and again, his ass pounding against Javier’s groin.

Javier drove forward in retaliation, pulling Horacio towards him with a firm jerk on the harness, a dual wave of groans unleashing each time Javier manhandled him, the thick leather straps taut against Horacio’s clammy skin, hopefully leaving imprints from the force.

Javier yanked hard enough to raise Horacio up on his knees, cementing them back to chest, teeth, mouth and moustache going to town as Horacio craned his neck to meet the onslaught.

“Do you know how fucking good you look like this? How…fucking…beautiful?” Javier’s declaration was broken up with each thrust as he resumed movement.

“It’s all for you,” Horacio purred between lip bites. “Your own cowboy to play with.”

With a muttered “Fuck,” Javier pushed Horacio back down on all fours, toppling his Stetson to the floor, one hand gripping at the harness, the other at the nape of Horacio’s neck, his fingers fondling the gold chain that complemented the silver one at his own breast.

His hips hammered forward, no holds barred, as an all too familiar pressure built and threatened to consume him any second now. He glanced down, transfixed by his own fluid motions, entranced by how well Horacio held his cock, how Javier had tamed a once wild bronco who would have thrown off any other rider a long time ago. But not him, never him, so maybe he was more of a vaquero than he thought.

A combination of the visuals, the leather against his skin, and the tight heat squeezing and releasing around him took its toll. Javier let out a wounded gasp as though all the air had been knocked out of his lungs, his muscles tensing from head to toe as he watched his cock spasm and fill Horacio up.

As liquid warmth painted Horacio's walls, his wrist jolted and shook, sending him over the edge. He felt an extra weight on his back, the harsh scrape of teeth and words of encouragement at his ear as a hand took over from his own. Just the right pace and force, just how he liked it, just enough to make him coat Javier’s fingers, vision blurred, back arched.

They didn’t move as the room came back into focus, letting their lungs and heart rates return to baseline. Before Horacio could collapse to the floor, Javier slowly pulled out, smearing glistening fingers around Horacio’s fluttering hole, mixing it in with his own release. His tongue swirled and lapped from behind, making Horacio tremble on his knees until they buckled, and he could take no more. 

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

The spark of a lighter and deep exhales of smoke were the only sounds to be heard for several minutes as they lay recovering in bed, the hard floor downstairs proving too much for their aching limbs, even with the rug for protection.

“So, are you gonna tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Oh, come on. You know fucking well what.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Does it matter?”

“Well…no. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Surprised you haven’t guessed. In fact, I kinda thought it was you dropping a hint.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It was one of your old magazines that gave me the instructions on how to make it. And it’s not hard to get access to leather around here. The saddlers the ranch uses are well-stocked in almost everything. They don’t need to know what it’s being used for.”

Whatever Javier had been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. When moving into the cottage, he had cleared out his old bedroom. Hidden in the depths of his wardrobe, beneath several layers of clothes, was a pile of magazines he never had the heart to throw away or burn, one of which was a Cowboy and Rodeo Special of Drummer.

Javier blew out a low chuckle as he passed their cigarette across the bed. “I wish I had been dropping a hint. Although…looks like you did fine without my influence. Always the dark horse.”

"Hey, they're your magazines, not mine."

"You read them. Cover to cover by the sounds of it."

"Just making up for lost time when I was younger."

"At least someone's getting use out of them. So, you ready for your first rodeo, now? Based on this afternoon, I'd put in a good word."

"Very funny."

Although, whilst Javier was, of course, joking, there were plenty of men like Horacio who did compete across Texas – without hiding who they were as well. He imagined Horacio would rather die in a stampede of raging bulls than partake in such a competition. But nonetheless, it was an appealing fantasy for Javier to indulge in from time to time.

His fingers traced patterns over Horacio’s thigh where the leather garter remained even after the harness and cuffs had come off, the leftover scent of sweat and semen on their skin fusing with the tobacco in the air. He had taken great pleasure and care in removing those; however, when it came to the garter, Javier placed a ring of kisses where the leather sat but left it in position.

“You liked it, then?”

Javier gave Horacio an incredulous look as though the answer spoke for itself. But there was a hint of uncertainty behind the question, and it was only fair to provide reassurance. “I loved it. A lot. I don’t really do birthdays, but you’ve certainly made this one memorable. So, thank you.”

"My pleasure," Horacio murmured mid-kiss. "And it definitely beats my birthday."

"That wouldn't be hard."

The first few hours of Horacio's birthday were spent helping deliver calves and bedding down close by the expectant mothers every night for the following two weeks. He barely saw Javier other than at meal times, and it took multiple showers to wash the pungent barn aroma out of his hair.

“Hadn’t we better shower soon?” Horacio said with reluctance once they pulled apart. “Don’t wanna keep your father waiting.”

Javier leaned over to look at the clock on the bedside table. “Yeah, we should. I’m starving now we’ve worked up an appetite.”

“Do you want to do the honours?” Horacio gestured towards his thigh.

“Keep it on.”

Horacio could tell from the wicked glint in Javier's eye he wasn’t joking. “You do know I have to work with your father? And look him in the eye.”

“Oh, come on, he won’t even notice. Not everyone checks you out as much as me, y’know. Especially not my Pops. And…” Javier sat up and swung his leg across Horacio’s thigh until he was straddling him. “It is still my birthday, remember.”

Despite such brazen tactics, Horacio met Javier’s mouth again, groaning gently as Javier’s teeth pulled on his bottom lip. “Fine. As long as you can keep your hands to yourself through dinner.”

“I’ll try my best.”

He could make no such guarantees after dinner, though.

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

It took another week for the temperature to cool by several degrees, just in time for the residents of Laredo to visit neighbouring pumpkin patches, carve out Jack-o’-lanterns and go Trick-or-Treating.

By the time Javier had finished work and picked up some groceries, Chucho was busy in the lounge blanketing a table with a white lace cloth before arranging two extra tiers on top decorated with papel picado. Nearby trays were full of items ready and waiting to be placed on the ofrenda, including a Talavera pitcher of water, pan de muerto, a plate of salt, fresh marigolds, Calaveras, and a familiar wooden box.

Chucho looked up at Javier, who stood in the doorway with a cardboard box. “Ah, Javi, good timing. Pass those here.”

Javier held out a batch of fresh buñuelos delivered straight from Desde La Frontera. “Need a hand?”

Chucho looked at Javier with pleasant surprise. “Please, Mijo.”

Between them, they transferred everything from the trays to the table, Chucho directing where each item needed to be placed.

When it came to the wooden box, Chucho sat on the sofa to open it.

Javier watched silently from a few feet away, an ache forming in his chest when he saw the photos spread out on the furniture. But he pushed past it and sat in the adjacent armchair.

He looked closer at the pictures and reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. “This needs to go on it too,” he said.

Chucho glanced up to see Javier clutching Mariana’s poetry book.

“Of course. She can tell us how much she liked Madrid. Which reminds me…”

Chucho stood up and disappeared into his bedroom before reappearing with a card in his hand. “I always keep it by my bed, but it belongs on here.”

Chucho was holding an old prayer card of La Virgen de Guadalupe. “Abuela Rosa gave it to your Mamá for her quinceañera, along with these.” Chucho lifted a string of rosary beads from the wooden box. “I think she cherished the card as a reminder of our ancestors. Even though your Abuela disapproved, your Mamá had her own ideas about Guadalupe.” He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head with fondness.

“How do you mean?”

“Back in the '60s, Guadalupe became the mascot for the farmers’ union protests – the ones your Mamá marched on. She liked to think of her as someone who helped those in need. Do you remember her reading stories about the Aztecs? And Guadalupe, La Malinche and La Llorona?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

Javier blinked, keeping his eyes closed for a fraction longer than was customary. The memory was fuzzy around the edges, but he could feel the warmth of his mother lying beside him on his bed, a book between them as she read aloud tales of their ancestors. Once he started getting drowsy, she would sing to him or stroke his hair and kiss him goodnight, the comforting sound of her favourite telenovelas drifting through his bedroom door as he fell into a deep sleep.

When he was even smaller and couldn’t sleep after his older cousins convinced him La Llorona had been spotted in Laredo the previous night, his Mamá soothed him with the advice she had been given by her mother to always pray a Hail Mary and an Our Father whenever near water before making a sign of the cross for protection.

However, Javier also remembered during the first few months after she was gone, he would have nightmares about La Llorona. Except in those dreams, his Mamá had taken on the appearance of the wailing spirit, and her ghost roamed along the banks of the Rio Grande, screaming for him. But no matter how hard he tried to get closer to her, she would move out of reach until he woke up screaming.

“There have been so many versions of those stories since the days of the Aztecs, who knew Guadalupe as Coatlalopeuh, Tonantzin, or Coatlicue. La Llorona as Cihuacoatl. And La Malinche as Malinalli or Malintzin, or La Chingada. Some of those stories say they are all one and the same. And that the conquistadors made Guadalupe the Madonna above the others. Your Mamá saw Guadalupe as a symbol of hope, a mediator between the Aztec and Catholic religions, uniting all the different parts of us and our roots. The light and the dark, the old world and the new, the conquered and the conqueror, the obedient and the rebellious, the eagle and the snake, the Mexican and the American.”

“Never thought of it like that when I was younger. But it’s beautiful.”

“It is.” Chucho stood up and placed the prayer card on the altar.

“D’you think it’s possible, though? To unite it all, I mean.”

“I think we have to try as much as we can. And learn to make peace with it when we can’t. But I know it’s not easy.”

“Mexico didn’t seem far enough to run when I took the DEA job, even though it was never home. So, Colombia it was.” Javier couldn’t help but laugh at his own confused logic in hindsight. “But when we were in Manizales, I kept thinking about all the stories you told me about our family history – in the US and Mexico. And it just…hit me I was needed right here on the border. So, thank you, Pops.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me of my roots.”

“Your Mamá helped out a lot here, but she always wanted to do more. And she would have done a whole lot more if she’d had the chance. She’d have fought for yours and Horacio’s rights too, I’m sure of it. I had a feeling you’d take after her one day.”

“Better late than never, right?”

“Right. She’d be so proud of you and your work, Mijo. And so am I.”

A customary exchange of nods filled the silence that had become a trademark between father and son over the years when words seemed inadequate.

Chucho cleared his throat and turned to make one final check everything was in its rightful place on the ofrenda. “I think we’re about ready if you want to get Horacio.”

Javier headed next door with his Pops’ words – and his Mamá’s – echoing in his head. He thought about all the tangled threads that had run through him his whole life like the river he grew up on the bank of. It was ironic he could walk across bridges from Laredo into Mexico and back again, a confluence of his heritage. Yet there was always a gap that wouldn’t close. A gap those who insisted on his name meaning shame with a n rather than rock with a ñ wouldn’t let him close. All of the contradictions and dualities he had tried to reconcile, assuming in the past that he was expected to pick one or the other but never feeling qualified enough, resigning himself to an eternal conflict he could never win.

He thought about the people who crossed the invisible line in the earth every day, the one that instantly changed their identity and status whether they liked it or not, dividing and flattening their humanity into stereotypes and insults. The one that caused mothers separated from their children to cry like La Llorona and be condemned for finding themselves in desperate circumstances through no fault of their own. The one that led to Operations Hold the Line and Gatekeeper building walls and deploying an army of la migra, as Border Patrol were often called, to keep people out.

Maybe it was Javier’s recalcitrance, but the more the US government tried to put up borders – despite not thinking twice about violating those belonging to other countries – the more at ease he felt without them. After all, Texas had been part of Mexico in the past, as well as its own republic, and he had spent more than enough of his life trapped by self-imposed borders and walls already.

To be in a place like Laredo was to live on the margin of two countries and cultures, not one or the other. He was Mexican American, a Tejano. He had shared his heart and bed with women and men. Horacio was a closely guarded secret and a naked truth; they lived in the shadows and in the light. He was making a difference, yet it was a drop in the ocean of an ever-expanding problem. He regretted so much of what went down in Colombia, but not that he went in the first place, not only because of Horacio but because it brought him full circle. It brought him peace. It brought him home.

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

As the clock struck midnight and welcomed in Día de los Difuntos, the ofrenda was aglow with candlelight, and the fresh scent of copal filled the farmhouse.

Horacio stood over the altar, his gaze fixed on the image of him in his Papá’s jacket, his father’s usually stern expression relaxed and…proud. He had never really allowed himself to think of that word before. But as the veladoras flickered and swayed across the photograph his Mamá had insisted he kept, he could no longer ignore it.

Beneath the photo lay the golden pendants, temporarily removed from Horacio's neck for the festivities, a glass of his Papá’s favourite rum to match the one in his hand, and a plate of tamales.

“Not bad for a Colombian.”

“I guess I had a good teacher.”

“After dealing with a son determined not to follow in my footsteps, it makes a change to find someone more willing.”

Horacio’s eyes landed back on the photograph of him and his Pops before shifting to one of Mariana in her element at a Chicano civil rights march with a toddling Javier by her side, a bittersweet smile taking hold of his lips. “Funny how it works out.”

“True. But as long as it does, that's the main thing. Even if it’s not what you expected.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“What are we toasting?” Javier asked as he came in from the kitchen with two glasses of his Mamá’s mezcal of choice, passing one over to Chucho.

Chucho gave a nod of thanks and raised his glass. “To endings and beginnings. And reunions.”

The next couple of hours were spent telling stories, reminiscing, remembering. Welcoming the past into the present, letting it know there was still a future.

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

Chucho retreated to bed first, leaving Javier and Horacio to finish their drinks by the fire, which had burned down to its last mesquite log.

After placing their empty glasses in the kitchen, Javier stopped by the ofrenda on his way back to the sofa. His eye caught the selection of sugar skulls on display, each delicate design bearing the name of a departed loved one. Although, there were, in fact, two each for Mariana and Eduardo.

Javier traced his finger across the one which read Mariana Rosa Reyes Estrada, a pair of arms gathering tightly around his waist simultaneously.

“I never knew her with this name. She left Estrada behind in Mexico. Before she married, she was Mariana Reyes. Then she took Pops’ name ‘cos that’s the gringo way. And to make all the paperwork easier, I was just a Peña, too. But Pops likes to welcome her home with her Mexican and American names. In case she gets lost, he always says.” Javier released an affectionate chuckle at the expense of his Pops’ superstitions.

“He told me when he asked for my father’s full name.” Horacio smiled into Javier’s shoulder as he reached towards the skull that read Eduardo Horacio Carrillo Acosta.

He repeated the same motion across the shared part of his and his Papá's name. “The CNP prefer you choose one name when you enlist. So, of course, we all followed suit – Mamá included. And she left Sierra behind when she changed her papers.”

“Seems like we all have to leave parts of ourselves behind one way or another.”

“True. But if we’re lucky, we find them again somewhere down the line.”

Javier hummed in agreement as a trail of kisses soothed at his neck.

“When was the last time you did this, by the way?” Horacio asked as he traced idle patterns over Javier’s stomach.

“Día de Muertos? Fuck…I can’t even remember. When I was in Colombia, I always came home for Christmas – but not before. Pops never made a big deal out of it, but I could tell he was disappointed.”

“I’m sure he understood. And at least you’re here now.”

“I know. I think I just needed to do it in my own time.”

“Same here. So, thank you. To you and your father.”

“For what?”

“Letting me be a part of it. I think it’s something I’ve needed to do for years.”

“Horacio, of course you’re a part of it. You’re a part of the family.” Javier’s fingers found Horacio’s, lacing them together with ease above the belt of his jeans. “Tú eres mi familia.” (You’re my family)

“Y tú eres mía.” (And you’re mine)

“I was thinking about tomorrow…well, technically, later today. I, er, wondered if you wanted to watch the parade downtown. Then maybe head over to the cemetery with Pops. It's fine if it’s too much. I get it. I just thought maybe –”

“It’s okay.” Horacio cut him off, turning him around until they were face-to-face then forehead-to-forehead. “I’d love to.”

As the last embers of mesquite turned to ash, they knelt in front of the soft glow of the ofrenda, fingers connecting with their silver cross encased between their palms. A final attempt to welcome home those who had shaped so much of their children's lives, even in their absence, and sometimes in the most unexpected ways.

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

Echoes of drumbeats filled downtown Laredo by late afternoon, accompanied by a rainbow of papel picado along every street and a sea of Catrinas and Catrins. Children and adults alike wore masks or calavera face paint and marigolds in their hair, the intricate details of their costumes no doubt requiring months of preparation.

Food and drink stalls had seemingly popped up overnight, selling everything from pan de muerto, pozole and tamales to alegría, gorditas, marranitos and champurrado. It was impossible not to get swept from stand to stand, and fears of Javier and Horacio being scrutinised by anyone they happened to bump into were soon allayed. The hustle and bustle of the festivities made them anonymous yet at one with the city, as they were all here for the same reason.

Floats, dancers and puppets passed through the main roads, a spectacle Javier hadn’t witnessed in years. As a teen, the last thing he felt like doing was celebrating when it came to his Mamá’s passing. She wasn’t supposed to have gone so soon. But nowadays, he could appreciate the care and respect involved in honouring the dead. He could look back on the precious memories and not feel the need to push them away. He could accept the duality of grief and love, not as contradictions but as two sides of the same coin.

As they followed the procession at the end of the parade, making their way towards the cemetery to meet Chucho, Javier caught Horacio’s eye with a silent question. One that Horacio answered with a firm nod, reassurance that they were still on the same page.

So much had changed since Horacio was last here for Día de Muertos, not least of all the fact Javier was with him this time and had since met his family. And Escobar was dead, of course. His Papá was no longer a choking force around his neck but a warm presence that sat more comfortably on his chest. Not weightless, but manageable now.

Although darkness had fallen by the time they arrived at the cemetery, a sea of candles and lanterns lit the gravesides like an endless night sky, each one guiding the way home, even if just for one day. The celebrations from earlier continued, some families singing, drinking and eating. Others prayed or sat with blankets and hot drinks, telling stories and keeping memories alive.

Chucho had been busy when it was still light, clearing out dried flower stems and polishing Mariana’s headstone. Now, fresh marigolds were arranged around the candles, their strong fragrance carrying across the cemetery.

They were greeted with pats on the back and a glass of mezcal. A lowkey toast and short prayers were all they had planned, preferring to save the rest for the privacy of home.

“I just wanted to say thank you. To both of you for coming.”

“Any time, Pops. I’d forgotten how beautiful this place looks all lit up.”

“It reminds me of Día de las Velitas back in Colombia. People light candles and lanterns at cemeteries like this. Not that I could bring myself to join them after Papá.”

“There’s still time.” Javier held Horacio’s gaze through the flickering half-light, making the most of the only gesture he could give in public.

“I know.”

“It’s quieter here usually. A nice place to think. And she’s always been a good listener. So, if you ever need some breathing space, I’m sure she’d be all ears.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Horacio mirrored Chucho’s soft smile before laying down a tasteful wreath of marigolds he’d bought from one of the street vendors on their way here.

Javier watched with a growing warmth in his chest as his past, present and future collided once again. A first meeting of sorts, even if it wasn’t how it should have been. Even if it was built on memories and traditions, on prayers and stories, it was still real.

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

Slivers of silver reflected off the dark waters beyond the farm’s boundaries, the stars above shimmering like distant fireflies. Southern Texan Decembers were mild, but there was a chill to the air after sundown, especially by the river bank. However, it was nothing a blanket or two couldn’t fix.

Horacio was propped against a mesquite tree with Javier sitting between his legs, one blanket beneath them and the other draped over them. Coco stood watch nearby, her reins looped around a branch as she chomped on her favourite treat of apple slices – a reward for tonight’s extra work.

They shared a flask of Manizales’ finest coffee between Horacio lightly massaging Javier’s scalp and temples. It had been a hectic few days, from Chucho roping them into Las Posadas preparations to the farm being short-staffed in the past week due to seasonal colds and flu and the border seeing a higher influx of crossings in the build-up to the holidays.

Apart from a Christmas dinner or two, they weren’t expecting to take much time off over the festive period, but tonight was all about them. They had miraculously managed to escape work on time before driving to Desde La Frontera for a meal that was starting to become an anniversary tradition.

Javier played with Horacio’s hands, pressing kisses into his knuckles and pausing over his left wrist. “You like it, then?”

“Very much.”

“I know it’s not quite a garter or harness, but…” Javier trailed off, his shoulders and abdomen shaking in tandem.

“The strap’s the same colour, though.” One of Horacio’s hands snaked along Javier’s form, tickling at the waistband of his jeans enough to make him squirm.

“Oh really? Hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe. But it does suit you.”

Of course, Javier was banged to rights. He had spent considerable time picking out the watch, knowing Horacio preferred something digital – for pinpoint accuracy – and practical. Horacio had never got around to replacing his old one that was stopped by the ambush, so it was a long overdue replacement.

But if it also happened to be a gentle reminder of certain escapades every time he looked down at it, well...that was an added bonus. As was the thought of Horacio wearing Javier’s gift buckled around his wrist every day, the strap tight enough to leave a mark on his sun-kissed skin.

“Likewise with your present.”

“I dunno about that. I think you wear it better.”

“You’re the homegrown Texan boy, not me.”

“You’re the fucking cowboy, not me.”

Horacio’s fingers on his right hand took a firmer hold of Javier’s hair, coaxing him to turn around and abandon the flask he had just brought to his lips. “Technically…you own part of the ranch and farm. So, it’s about time you had a Stetson.”

Their lips met over Javier’s shoulder, still warm and tingling from the coffee.

“Fair point.” Javier picked up the flask again and downed whatever was left before it went cold. “We got any more of this, by the way?”

“Not ‘til next week. I told Alejandra to bring as much as she can fit in her luggage.”

“Well, there’ll be plenty of suitcases to choose from.”

“I know. I’m not sure your father knows what he’s let himself in for.”

“Oh, don’t worry, he knows from when my cousins and I were kids. And he gets to play host, so he’ll be in his element.”

“He’s already given me a list of groceries to pick up on the way back from the livestock auction in Hondo.”

“When’s that again?”

“The day before my family arrives. Not ideal timing, but couldn’t really say no to more experience.”

“You still shadowing Gus Montoya?”

“Yeah, he’s been in the trade since he was 16, and he’s one of the best in the business now. I thought I should be involved before we start buying the new Santa Gertrudis and Longhorns for this place next year.”

“The paddocks are gonna be in these lower fields here, right?” Javier gestured towards a recently cleared stretch of land with the newly installed gate separating it from the ranch next door.

“Yes. It’ll be easier to move everything back and forth without disturbing the other fields. Then, once the new herd’s settled in, we can expand the stables, get in some more Morgans and Quarter Horses. Maybe diversify the cover crops for next winter.”

“Sounds good.” An unseen smile had spread across Javier’s face, the novelty of listening to Horacio talk ranch business not having worn off yet. All those years he tuned out whenever his Pops did the same, yet he never tired of hearing Horacio’s plans.

“It keeps me out of trouble.”

“Shame.”

“That’s not until next year, though…” Horacio trailed off, his lips devouring Javier’s neck, nibbling until Javier wriggled in his hold.

“Well, we better make the most of this before your family arrives.”

Horacio hummed in agreement, his mouth still buried in Javier’s shoulder. “Especially as there’s a quick turnaround before New Year’s.”

“True. I take it Felipe and Juana are still okay to come?”

“I forgot to tell you – I spoke to him earlier. Juana’s feeling much better now the morning sickness has passed. And with Cali gone and FARC taking up more and more CNP resources in the jungle, it’s mostly turf wars between the smaller gangs in Medellín. So, Martínez authorised his leave, and they’re flying out on the 30th.”

“Glad to hear it. It’s all good on the Miami front as well. They arrive the same day, late afternoon, once Connie’s finished her shift and Steve’s picked Olivia up from his parents’ house.”

“Okay, good. So, everything’s sorted then.”

“Not quite…I still need to clean out the guesthouses. Don’t think our old one’s been done since the Navarro Vega family left.”

“At least it’s still getting used since we moved out.”

“Yeah, well, I guess someone always needs it. Especially with IIRIRA coming into force. So many more fucking deportations. So many people taking bigger risks ‘cos they've got no choice.” Javier exhaled harshly through his nose.

He ran his fingers over his moustache and chin, pressing his thumb into his jaw and resting his face in his hand. “It’s starting to feel like the old days again.”

“But it’s not, Javier. You’re on the other side of it all this time.”

“It’s not just the border, though, is it?”

“What isn’t?”

“Legislation that could have us arrested for fucking in the privacy of our own home.��

“We’ve always been careful.”

“We thought we were careful back in Colombia, Horacio. And look where that got us.”

Javier didn’t think about those days much anymore if he could help it. Neither man did, except on specific dates or bad days if they were unlucky. But it was hard to shake the sense of paranoia in light of what the laws of his own state had to say about his sex life. It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine someone like Mia Domínguez spying on them through a long lens, waiting to catch them out.

“True. There’ll always be a risk. But people like us have always existed under the radar. And we’ve been here over a year now, remember. Anyone who’s got a problem with us has already made their feelings perfectly clear. The rest either don’t know or don't give a fuck. Our story doesn’t have to end like the one you showed me in The New Yorker.”

“I know.”

Javier had been in two minds about whether to share it. But Horacio insisted he was the one to be read to for a change, preferring to hear the evocative imagery of the wild American landscape from the mouth of a Texan. The parallels were undoubtedly there between the glossy magazine pages and elements of their lives – but luckily, not all of it rang true for them.

“For a start, they were sheepherders from Wyoming,” Javier added with a tone of defiance.

“Exactly. Completely different.”

“Yep.” Javier exhaled loudly, his mind already returning to his previous stubborn thought. "But it’s the same government smoke and mirrors shit all over again. The same fucking hypocrisy. If it's not chasing people down the river or letting them die in the desert, it’s drug shipments they made easier to transport here in the first place. Or you’ve got couples like us crossing over looking for safety, only to run into fucking sodomy laws. It’s never gonna stop.”

It was the same sleight of hand tactics Javier had seen before. Legislation made thousands of miles away would claim to solve a problem whilst exacerbating it on the frontline. Whether it was drugs or human beings, they proved time and time again that they couldn’t be contained by a border or a statute book. Whether it was Border Patrol or the DEA, choppers would fly over the river at night, fruitlessly chasing traffickers despite the extra budget. If the usual border crossings were out of bounds, people would risk more remote or treacherous spots to try their luck.

It wasn’t unheard of for them to emerge from clusters of trees like the one they were sitting in now, drenched and shaking from the cold and dehydration. Or for Javier to be ready and waiting with towels, a change of clothes, a hot shower, or food and drink. Some would present themselves willingly to the authorities, others would disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. If anyone ever asked, Javier had seen and knew nothing.

“And neither are you. Look at all the people you’ve helped already. You might not be able to save everyone, but you’re making the difference you always wanted to make.”

Horacio coaxed Javier to face him again, cupping his jaw and rubbing a thumb over his stubbled cheek. “Estoy orgulloso de ti.” (I’m proud of you)

Javier closed his eyes, basking in Horacio’s touch and closing the gap between them. “Y yo de ti.” (And I of you)

Easy kisses followed – the kind that were grounding and familiar, safe and timeless.

They rode back to the cottage with only the moon and stars guiding the way. Horacio clasped Coco’s reins whilst Javier held onto his waist from behind, making the most of the idyllic evening spent alone. Because even here, they knew it couldn’t always be like this. But despite all that life would throw at them in the years to come, they would be there for each other, to grow and change, to sail in the same direction, even if not always in the same boat. To make peace with the past, to live in the present, and to look to the future on their own terms.

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

Burnt oranges and yellows filled the stone fireplace, the crackling of charred mesquite wood accompanying the dulcet tones of Elvis on the turntable. A fresh pine tree stood in the corner opposite a set of bookshelves, its white lights and a row of candles on the mantlepiece casting a soft glow across the lounge.

By next year, they would have to re-think the room's layout as the shelves were almost out of space. They had transferred all of their old books, records and tapes when they moved in – two poetry books in particular taking pride of place – which now sat alongside newly purchased or gifted titles from the likes of Fernando Vallejo, E.M. Forster, John Rechy, Gloria E. Anzaldúa, Alejo Durán, Linda Ronstadt, K.D. Lang, Vicente Fernández, Walt Whitman, Pedro Almodóvar and Gregg Araki. And no doubt there would be further additions to their collection on Christmas Day.

Luna was the sole canine guest tonight, her bond with Horacio somehow stronger again since Kira’s and Fuego’s arrival. Sol and Leo had grown increasingly fond of their new playmates in the last few months, so it was often the three of them in the cottage nowadays. Horacio hadn’t discussed it with Chucho, but he hoped she would stay with them permanently – and see out her retirement years – once the new cattle were in place.

She lay in her favourite chair, fast asleep with her head on the armrest and oblivious to their return home beyond a drowsy wag of the tail, before resuming her dreams.

“You had a good day, then?” Javier asked from the comfort of Horacio’s shoulder, their arms wrapped around each other as they gently swayed to the music.

Horacio let out a contented hum of approval, burying himself against Javier’s shirt, breathing all of him in. “It was perfect.”

“It was.”

“Although…I think there’s one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Your present.”

Javier’s chest shook, and something that sounded remarkably like “You fucker” was sworn against the crook of Horacio’s neck, followed by a sharp nip of the teeth.

“It’s only fair.” Horacio tried to keep an authoritative edge to his tone. But it was far from convincing when he ended up laughing as much as Javier.

“Actually…it’s only fair if you wear your hat too.” Another neck bite, accompanied this time by a trail of kisses along the open collar of Horacio’s red plaid shirt, shoving the bandana aside for easier access. “Deal?”

Horacio’s back arched involuntarily, the rumble threatening to escape from his throat tempered into an elongated sigh instead. Not much of a win, but he’d take it. “Deal.”

And so Javier fetched the Stetsons from the coat hook in the hallway whilst Horacio switched records once Elvis had finished.

Javier lowered Horacio’s hat into place, encouraging Horacio to do the same with his.

“Satisfied?” Javier asked once they resumed their embrace, the cumbia beats of Lucho Bermúdez now replacing Elvis.

Horacio’s fingers slid from Javier’s waist to the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him forward until their lips met and the brims of their hats jutted together. “I am now…cowboy.”

They let another vinyl play before undressing, every movement sensual and considered as they removed boots and unbuckled belts between slow, thorough kisses. With hats relegated to the couch for now, Javier untied the silk bandana from Horacio’s neck, teasing smooth fabric along the nape and tossing it to the floor, revealing faded tan lines from the unforgiving summer months. Buttons from their plaid shirts were next, followed by jeans and underwear, chestnut lost in charcoal as they stood bare in each other’s arms but for the silver and gold pendants.

Neither felt the need to give into temptation, not yet, at least. Instead, they put on another record and danced, hand in hand, skin against skin, soul against soul. Because they were never in a rush anymore; now they had all the time in the world. Now they were home.

[dragonagitator]

BG3 fanfic idea:

Modern Character in Faerun fic in which the author self-insert suffers from whatever chronic illnesses and disabilities the author suffers from IRL and Shadowheart inadvertently cures them all the first time she casts Lesser Restoration for something.

It turns out that you weren't that far off all those times you'd joked back on Earth that "God nerfed me by giving me [condition] because he knew I'd be too OP without it."

And all that extra effort you used to have to expend every day just to minimally function? That was like a lifelong intensive weightlifting program for your willpower because you were constantly forcing yourself to do things despite all the pain, fatigue, brain fog, nausea, etc. Once you're freed of the shackles of your chronic illnesses and disabilities, you're able to utilize that power in ways chronically healthy and lifelong abled people could never dream of.

Title idea: "Traded My Spoons For Knives"

Lore caveats: Lesser Restoration canonically cures the conditions diseased, poisoned, paralysis, and blinded. If you're missing body parts and want them back then you'll need to wait for the 7th-level divine magic spell Regenerate, which can't be learned in game because character progression is capped at level 12 but should be achievable fairly quickly in a post-game story because clerics and druids get access to 7th-level spells as soon as they hit level 13. If that causes you to inadvertently regenerate body parts that you didn't want back, the 9th-level spell True Polymorph can permanently (with your consent) change your healthy/whole baseline to something else. You'll need a level 18+ wizard to cast it, which Gale was before the orb since he was an archmage, and it's certainly plausible that removing the orb would allow him to bounce back to his old character level without needing to grind XP to get there.

(Inspired by memories of taking Adderall for the first time. That was a REVELATION, y'all. You mean I wasn't just stupid and lazy this whole time? This is what I can do when my brain actually works right? If my physical disabilities and chronic illnesses could also be cured/treated as instantaneously, I'd be unstoppable.)

(Also, how is it that as soon as I start writing my first attempt at fanfic, I start generating ideas for new fanfics faster than I can even write the ideas down much less ever actually write any of the stories?)

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

It's been some weeks but here I am now to respond to your response lol. So first of all, I'm definitely leaning towards nocorro but tbh I have like a few versions of this au in my head, all of which lead Spider down different paths depending on his love interest (or lack thereof) because I feel like each one would bring out something different in his ikran ambitions:

Spider/Neteyam - he fulfills his dream of becoming a racer.

Spider/Lo'ak - he eventually travels all over Pandora to learn everything he can about ikrans, becoming an expert in caring for, training, and riding them.

Spider/Kiri - he becomes an amazing ikran caretaker, focusing his energy on the health and well-being of them.

Spider/Rotxo - he realizes that the na'vi avoid riding the forest ikrans (which I imagine are what would dominate the forests of the Metkayina's islands) because of their size but he is just the right size. This leads to him being the first to utilize the smaller island ikrans with an interesting twist.

Spider/Ao'nung - he actually creates ilu racing in this one lol, it's all part of this storyline in my head where he manages to use his knowledge of both ikran training and human animal training methods to adapt to an ilu style and bond/train an ilu into helping him escape Quaritch. I'll tell you more info in another ask if you want it's a whole thing.

Spider/Tsireya - he paves the way for a new ikran sport: a mash between equestrian trick riding/vaulting, with quite a bit of acrobatics included.

Spider & the Sullies - he becomes their personal trainer, bonding with each individual family member and their ikrans and helping them to make their own marks on the ikran rider community all while helping to heal the distance within the family (among Jake and the boys specifically). I like to think that in this one he bonds with a forest ikran and carves out a place in ikran racing all his own.

And these are all very much active in my mind. I've always loved the idea that just one choice, one source of influence, could change your fate. I like the idea that there's a universe where Spider and Neteyam fall in love and become an ikran racing power couple and I like the idea that there's another universe where Kiri beat Neteyam to the punch and instead Spider focuses on all he can do to care for these amazing creatures, etc.. You can see what parts of him each path brings out.

On another note, some of your hc's will definitely be making an appearance because there were a few that I loved and thought fit so perfectly with what I pictured. I look forward to you seeing which ones stuck with me lol. And I love that others have their own interpretations that they want to write about! It'd be so fun to see what others come up with! Fun fact: I never intended for Spider to become a racer himself, I was vibing with the concept of him being this amazing ikran whisperer who brings a different perspective to the bond between person and animal, but because of the reaction that you and others have had I've added that into my thoughts!

Anyways, I know I work slowly but trust and believe I can't wait to get the next installment out so hang in there! Oh, and I can't believe I forgot to send you a link to my newest fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48596428

You totally don't have to read it, I'm still not even 100% sure if I like it myself, but idk I've sent you a link before so it'd just feel rude if I didn't now that I've started to? Does that make sense? Another update is that I will in fact be adding on to Follow Me Down to the Peach Tree, which I figured is something you might look forward to :)

~ CherryApollo

Hello icon CherryApollo. I'm so sorry this ask has taken me SO long to respond to, I wanted to read back on our old chats to refresh my memory but just like the nocorro accidentally mated post that an anon asked me to find the other day, I cannot find the posts even though I know it's tagged properly. I don't know if maybe it doesn't show up unless the tag is in the first few tags of the post? Someone send help.

BUT ANYWAYS, we will have to just focus on this. I agree that every Spider love interest just brings out a different side of Spider, which would result in different Spider ikran racing ambitions all around. I find it interesting that he travels in the locorro one, because I've always associated it with Kiri and Spiri. The yearning to explore more of Eywa's creations and to connect with her in different ways, and to meet more Na'vi and to see where and how they live. It's so Kiri to me, just wanting to be more a part of Pandora and see more of Pandora. I don't hate it for Lo'ak though, he's so restless and he is such a fast and adaptive learner when he's invested.

I am OBSESSED with the idea of Spider and a forest ikran, and I'm shocked no one has done it yet. They are! Spider sized!!! It's so perfect! He can fit into smaller spaces and make tighter and faster maneuvers and turns, and I bet him and Neytiri could spend hours seeing how traditional ikran racing could translate to this slightly different creature and style.

OBVIOUSLY I want more info on Spider escaping Quaritch via ilu bonding?? That's amazing, it shakes up the whole story! Would he find Awa'atlu right away or would he end up at a different village first? I have been drawn lately to the Spider escaping and finding the Sully's fic's I've seen around, although I've never seen one get past a few chapters. It's such an interesting concept!

I absolutely adore always when people are inspired by my thoughts, and I think it will be so so fun to see what sticks and what you liked and what you change!!! Please don't worry about working slow, I've been answering slow lately.

AND I SAW YOUR NEWEST FIC, I am so behind on my fic reading but I checked yours out before I posted this. I commented :) and please, it's not rude at all to send me a fic, sometimes I miss them in the shuffle so I appreciate it!

I ALSO HAVE BEEN SO OBSESSED WITH THAT FIC, I'M SO EXCITED THEY'LL BE AN UPDATE. I'll tell you, I have been so stuck on the idea of writing something original in its world. Loosely in its world, I guess, but just a soulmate world where if your soulmate is dead you can see their ghost, but also all the ghosts can all see each other as well. I've been stuck on this idea of a person whose soulmate is a ghost and as a result they're kind of an unattached loner. They are a private investigator who uses their ghost soulmate talking to other ghosts to help solve crimes. I'm thinking that they'll end up with another person whose soulmate is dead that they meet, a sort of vibe where they aren't the others supposed person but maybe things worked out the way it was supposed to in a fucked up way. It's just a weird concept I haven't been able to get rid of that I figured I'd let you know you inspired, lol.

[tau1tvec]

Hello, hope you're doing well!

I don't really know where else to ask this, so sorry if this is annoying. I have seen your beautiful TS3 posts and It's making the craving I've had to play it for months even stronger lol

The problem is, no matter what I do I can't seem to get it to run without major lag/stuttering. I have a fairly decent computer with 16gb of RAM, and have followed all the steps I've seen on forums (Nrass mods and MCcc for cleaning up a save, lazyduchess' smooth patch etc.) and no matter what, it stutters. Sims 3 was my first sims game, so I know the usual amount of lag to have and what it's doing now isn't the usual normal amount; I can tell for some reason it's struggling to run smoothly and at the point it's at it's unplayable :(

Do you have any more tips that I could possibly do to get it to run? I feel so nostalgic for it :'(

Having a good amount of computer memory helps for sure, but the biggest help when it comes to games and smooth performance is your GPU memory, and the type of drive you’ve got the game installed on.

For The Sims 3 I think the minimum spec used to be 2gb, but I like to think these days 4gb-6gb GPU would be a better soft entry for it, esp if you plan to play with all packs, CC, and possibly an HQ mod. For storing the games files, I highly recommend installing it on an SSD ( Solid State Drive ), it’ll load things like objects and textures a lot quicker ( so long as it isn’t CC ), and you’ll get less pop ins, and waiting for stuff to render properly.

Now if you’ve got everything above, and are still getting lag without CC. Make sure the game recognizes your card, if this hasn’t been done the game isn’t properly using it. It would’ve been a step included in that one Steam Community tutorial I linked. The other thing is, esp if you’ve got a more powerful GPU, is to force fps ( frames per second ) to cap at 60 fps. This is so crucial bc The Sims 3 doesn’t have Vsync, it’s old as hell, if you’re running a brand new card, you’ll be pushing astronomical frame rates which is risky, and you’ll need to cap this through your GPU’s settings app, but doing it will save your GPU a lotta stress, and also stabilize The Sims 3’s performance, or any game for that matter.

Now if you’ve got everything above, and are still getting lag with CC. Especially if you’ve got a lot of it, there are ways to mitigate this. Try looking up tutorials on how to merge CC, and then to minimize load times, try using programs like Bulk Rename Utility to remove any spaces and special characters in CC file names. You want less than 100 files in your entire CC/mods folder, merging will help achieve this if you’ve got a lot of CC. I’ve got almost 30gb of CC, and my game takes like a minute and a half to load to menu.

Lastly just be sure your settings are set for your rig specifically, and honestly, even if your PC is powerful, things like high detail trees, and super water isn’t necessary, those settings will look fine ticked down a bit.

[swallowtailed]

palisade 50 / finalisade pt. 5

structure thoughts

okay, i have a lot of thoughts re structure this week. i had these last ep too, but i wanted to give it another episode to see how a few things shook out, because fatt tends to move quite slowly in that way. (also i had just gotten cursed with dawn work and had no brainroom for real thoughts.) i do still think there's room for some of these things to develop, and fatt tends to hang together much better in retrospect. but this is my read right now.

the reintroduction of cas'alear & co: i am content to wait a bit for some interaction with them or some explanation of why they're here, because palisade is currently being forced through seven separate funnels and a brand new problem won't fit somewhere instantly. that said. bro we better find out what's up. they're physically on the blue channel, that can't just get handwaved

and re material circumstances of blue channel & crew--to my eye the dice valuation of relationships is causing some real siloing off of characters and storylines. which is really unfortunate because the bonds between the crew were a huge strength of palisade and it just feels like an oversight to miss that in the finalisade. (this is also a factor of not doing a ton of rp in this game. one thing i'm really missing is bringing the misfortune options into the result of a scene.)

and on a similar note, i really liked august's scene with righteousness, but it could've been even better if palisade had engaged more with delegate characters and what it means to be a delegate throughout the season. instead this & a bunch of other thematic threads are being advanced way more actively than before now that it's the finalisade, which feels kind of hollow.

i also really wish eclectic was still around. having had a leap scene, i've solidly come down that it was a bad narrative decision to kill eclectic. introducing a new (to the season) character in the middle of the finalisade, on top of a bunch of other new/er pcs, was always gonna be awkward, and leap doesn't work here. his goal, to take kesh for every last cent, has a very similar problem to clem's--kesh isn't there. which is less of a direct issue when the end goal is just "steal", but it's still a goal from a partizan paradigm, not a palisade one. you know? like, leap's fixated on kesh and kesh is a shrinking speck on a planet with new and different problems.

also ideally leap's reintroduction would create contrast for the ways brnine and thisbe have changed since partizan. maybe we will get to that later.

hey i actually think talking about a justice system would be extremely relevant given how many characters have goals in that direction?

i think overall my sense is that finalisade feels disconnected from the rest of the season due to all the character changes and some rushed thematic work.

anyway obv this is fatt so there's every chance all of the above will be resolved by the end of finalisade but from here i'm feeling a little doubtful

various other notes

jesset's gun arm! i stopped to wonder which it was back when that happened, but since it wasn't addressed i figured it was intended to be his prosthetic arm. wild.

the autonomy reveal... love when a reveal is so well seeded and rings so true that you have to be like "hang on was that not already canon". very cool. very perennial. miserable, also.

taking a minute though to sit and think about perennial and loneliness. also taking a minute to think the phrase "did perennial effectively utilize girl power in creating autonomy itself".

re cori's scene: the suggestion that perennial's consecration might change the flora and fauna really caught my ear. not beating the "millennium break is also colonizing palisade" allegations. it seems like they went another direction (just the sky changing?) but that rang really weird to me, especially when the colonial angle of gardens wrt the bilats had just been raised a few episodes ago.

very much appreciated janine taking the time to explicitly bring up the framing of unction's fate as something that would, in-universe, be a question and a conversation

[wrestlingarsenal]

I read somewhere that the Microsoft Bing search engine now provides a free image generator. It uses Artificial Intelligence to create an image of whatever you ask it to draw. It's available at: https://www.bing.com/images/create.

So I decided to try generating some pro wrestling images to test out the new technology and see how homo-erotic it was willing to go. I started out simply with "two pro wrestlers standing in a wrestling ring" and within a minute, it generated four such images. The best of the bunch is posted above -- two remarkably swole hotties with powerful physiques and tall white boots that I didn't even ask for!

Now I want to see more! So I tried "pro wrestler holding his anguished opponent in a body scissor hold." The three resulting images were very enticing and sexy, but the AI machine obviously does not know what a Body Scissor is...

So I'm impressed with the output even if these are not technically Body Scissors! The lighting and coloring are intense and severe. The guys are super attractive and handsome -- not cartoonish fat brutes. Their arms are swole and veiny too, which I like. Their bodies are placed in various sexually-suggestive positions with the attacker mounting his victim.

And including the adjective "anguished" in my request resulted in these incredible Orgasm Faces, not only on the victim but also the attacker. Especially in the final image above, the dude on top definitely looks like he's in the process of busting one out.

So I just had to ask the bot to show me a Sleeper Hold. But this one was a bridge too far for some reason. The AI machine was intelligent enough to realize that this was porn for me and it refused to draw me a Sleeper:

Oh well, there are limits to the utility of this new technology if you're hoping to use it for pornographic purposes. But I suspect the day is coming when AI will generate animations, long videos, even entire movies based on a written script -- I can't wait! It will be cheaper and faster to have the Video Generator create you a custom wrestling match with all your favorite moves rather than paying actors/models to perform it for you. (Someone needs to teach the Bot what a Scissor is.)

Meanwhile, I'm going to keep playing around with the Bing Image Generator -- maybe ask it for some Tag Team images which I love.

[digital-magus]

Welp, here in Texas, Summer's finally here. The streets are empty and the power's going out from everyone turning the AC on at the same time. And that means that soon enough people living further north in reasonable climates are going to be getting hit with record high temperatures, because that's just what happens every year now.

SO! To repay their kindness of the past few years in providing tips on staying warm during our Big Freeze(s), I'm gonna share some Gen-U-Ine Texas Wisdom(TM) on beating the heat. Anyone else from similarly hellish climates is more than welcome to chip in anything I miss or forget.

1) STAY! HYDRATED!

Most things on this list are tips and suggestions, but this is a hard-and-fast rule. I know that probably sounds really obvious but I literally cannot stress it enough. If you're hot and sweating, you're losing water and it needs replacing. If you're hot and not sweating, you're out of water and it REALLY needs replacing. Sweat is not your enemy, it's your body's natural cooling mechanism.

Straight water is best obviously but if you can't do that for whatever reason, go whatever you've got. I personally keep a big jug of water by my computer and refill it regularly. A fairly reliable metric is if you go to take a drink and you find yourself just guzzling it down, let it happen; your body knows what it needs. If you start drinking and immediately start sweating, it means you needed to sweat but were too dehydrated to spend the water. Keep. Drinking.

2) Ice water is your friend

I preface this by saying if you're elderly or have heart conditions, be very careful with this one: going too cold too fast can shock your system and stop your heart. Even if you don't have heart conditions, you should be careful about it if you're particularly overheated (e.g. you just came in from doing yard work in the heat). Even if it doesn't mess with your heart, it can mess with your stomach and make you throw up. Start off with cool room temperature water and work your way down.

That said, there is no better tool for cooling down your core. Remember there is no such thing as cold, just lower and higher amounts of heat, and most of your organs are on the inside, not the outside. You can climb into a freezer or sit in front of an AC going full blast, but you're still gonna have to wait for the heat to diffuse its way from your core to your skin before it actually leaves your body. With ice water, you're introducing a great big thermal battery right into your core where it can pull that heat out directly before getting expelled in the myriad way the human body has to lose moisture.

3) Cold showers: not just for horndogs anymore!

Now we've got your core taken care of, but your outer layer's still plenty hot. Lucky for you, water is a great conductor for heat on the outside of your body too! Showers are particularly effective because it's a constant stream of new cold water rather than a singular body that will warm up over time. As with the previous tip, those with heart conditions or the severely overheated should start with a cool or even lukewarm temperature before easing their way lower to prevent adverse reactions from the sudden shock.

4) Keep the air movin' and coolin'

We all know the relief a nice cool breeze can bring when you're feeling hot, but those are often short-lived and not available on command. Now, the people this list is for (by virtue of needing this list) probably don't have central air conditioning, so we're gonna have to find another way. First off, if you can afford it (both the up-front cost and the utility cost; suckers really suck up the juice), a 1-room or window unit air conditioner in your bedroom or whichever room you spend the most time can be an absolute lifesaver. I pretty much guarantee whatever room you put it in will become the room you spend the most time.

4b) No AC, no problem

If that's not an option for you, you're not out of luck though; I'm going to let you in on the tried-and-true method of those too budget-bound for AC; the wind-tunnel method. This should be particularly effective for people with the grave misfortune of spending the summer months in a home built for the winter, made to retain every ounce of heat it can.

All you need is (at least) 2 large box fans (or similar high-power exhaust fans) and (at least) openable windows (or doors to the outside if you don't mind bugs/birds/neighbors coming in). If your home has a built-in attic fan, that can substitute for at least one of the fans and windows, that's what they're made for.

Pick at least two windows on opposite ends of your home. If you only have windows on one side of your home (e.g. a small appartment), choose the two farthest away from each other. If you live in a multi-story home, at least one should be on the top floor and one should be on the bottom. At one window set up one of the box fans blowing in, and at the other window, blowing out. In a multi-story home at least one fan blowing out should be on the topmost floor you're looking to cool. Heat rises and you will notice.

Because they might be called something different where you live, this is what I mean by a box fan:

The idea is to create a gentle wind tunnel through your home to constantly keep the air circulating, bringing in new (cooler) air from outside and venting the old warmer air back out. As such, there will need to be a constant open-air path from one fan to the other, so leave the interior doors open. A few additional tips:

If you have a windowless room you want to include on the circulation, put another box fan (or one of those squat barrel fans) on the floor in the doorway blowing in. The cooler air will flow in at the bottom of the doorway and the warmer air will flow out at the top

Any room that generate it's own heat when in use (i.e. kitchens, computer rooms, etc) should definitely be included in the system, unless you plan on never going in there. Kitchens in particular should get an exhaust fan.

When you run the fans can make a lot of difference. You'll need to work out what works best in your personal situation (especially if you've got a lot of insulation) but what works best for me is to run them from evening to morning when it's coolest out, then shut them off during the heat of the day so the house holds on to the cool for as long as it can.

For a little extra cooling, take some light fabric soaked in water or a wide pan of it and place it in front of the intake fan. The air blowing over/through the water will cause it to evaporate, cooling the air as it comes in. This may not always be effective however, because...

5) Humidity is NOT your friend

Somewhat paradoxically, water can be as much an enemy as a friend in the fight to keep cool. In simple terms, the more water is in the air, the less water can evaporate into it, the upshot of which is your sweat stops doing its job and instead of evaporating away, leaving you slightly sticky but cool, it just stays there, leaving you hot, damp, and miserable. The only real ways to combat this are to a) not introduce unnecessary steam into the air (and venting any you do generate) and/or b) get a dehumidifier. The problem with b is it doesn't really work with the Wind Tunnel Method for obvious reasons. If you live somewhere both hot and humid, an AC unit really is the best of both worlds because it dries the air as it cools it.

So, other than small obvious stuff like "Stay out of the sun" and "Try not to move around too much", that's what I've got for y'all. If I think of anything else I'll be sure to add it, and again, anyone else with tips to add is welcome to do so. And even if you don't have something to add, I'd appreciate y'all reblogging this anyway so it can hopefully reach more people who need it so we can help our northern neighbors like they helped us these past few winters.

Good luck out there and keep cool!