#South Seas Hotel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luveline · 14 days ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬

Aaron sets the record straight when an overheard conversation convinces you that you’re not good enough for him. 5k

c: fem, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive theme (non-graphic implied sex scene). hotch is a good husband. requested here

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“Honey, this is Clint McMoore. We went to college together.”

You step into Aaron’s side. Clint McMoore is a handsome older man with silvering hair and a beard that looks out of control. His bowtie is loose around his neck, and his cheeks are blotchy with drink, but Clint smiles at you and offers his hand. “How do you do?” he asks.

“Quite well, thank you.” You’ve been practising fancy dinner talk with Aaron’s friend Emily for weeks. She has all the political background you’d needed to see yourself into the culture. “It’s nice to meet one of Aaron’s school friends.”

“While you still can,” Clint says with a chuckle. Something about being in your forties is obscene to these men, as though death waits for fifty candles to snuff them out.

“Clint and I were in the Student Theatre club together, our first year.”

You grin, smile laced with teasing. Each time you’re reminded of Aaron’s young interest in drama, you have to focus very hard on not laughing; the Aaron who has his hand to your shoulder isn’t one you could envision on stage. “Did you perform together?” you ask.

“Saturday Night Fever,” Clint says.

They laugh and reminisce. You find these sorts of events hard to keep up with, but you come when Aaron asks because he so rarely asks you for anything. He hasn’t mentioned knowing that you don’t like coming, But perhaps he hasn’t noticed —it’s not like you to frown, not when you’re with Aaron. The way he treats you, he probably thinks you’re the happiest girl in the world.

There’s a contentedness to be found when he touches you. He spreads a hand against your lower back and you let yourself sink into his side, curled into his embrace and amazed at the giggly laugh he lets out as Clint brings up the ‘King of the River’ tattoo Aaron has hidden beneath his shirt. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek.

Clint asks, “Isn’t that right?” and forces you back into the conversation.

You’re wearing a dress you panicked over for days. It’s black, cut playfully just above your knees with small petal sleeves. Your necklace is of a delicate chain and a not so delicate pearl —a black Tahitian South Sea pearl that glows pink and green in the light. For you, Aaron wrote, his pretty scrawl inky across a square of scalloped card from atop the box. I’m in love with you. Forgive me for not having the courage to tell you in person.

Your Aaron is quiet. Some days he comes home from work and doesn’t manage more than a sentence. Some days he can barely speak at all. But there are nights when he holds you to hold you and talks in murmurs against your ear, and he’s good at making calls when he’s away. Talking or not, smiling or otherwise, Aaron finds a way to let you know he loves you, and that’s all you care about.

“Excuse us,” Aaron says, giving Clint a rare, warm smile, “I’m being flagged by my boss.”

Sure enough, Erin Strauss is beckoning Aaron with a strange pained look.

“Nice to meet you,” you say quickly to Clint. He repeats your goodbye, and you and Aaron swerve around him.

“He was nice,” you murmur.

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

“How come you fell out of touch?”

“Oh, you know how things go, honey, you forget all the people you meet and make room for new ones.” He kisses your cheek. “And besides, he used to gossip like my mother. Why don’t you go find JJ?”

“You’ll be alright?”

“No, maybe not.” He squeezes your elbow quickly. “Go, find some hors d’oeuvres, at least.”

You find neither JJ nor finger foods. The gala you’re attending is being held in a hotel in the richest part of D.C, and the events hall is huge. The ceiling is a fantasy, glass and miles upward, overhead chandeliers dangling lower, dousing the crowds below in a light that’s clean. The rich and powerful gather at the edges of the room, though the performance toward the back of the room is watched by a few tens of couples with flutes of champagne held in gloved hands.

You hadn’t worn gloves. Hadn’t thought about it until you got here. Honestly, you felt grateful enough that JJ texted you to tell you to buy a shawl; if you weren’t wearing one you’re sure you’d feel bare.

What you’re lacking in fancy is made up for by your earnestness, or so you’d like to believe. You aren’t rich nor powerful, but Aaron’s a good man and you his good wife. You work hard, which is more than some of the richest in the room can say. You hold your head high without a second thought.

The hall is confusing. Tables are set but you aren’t sure Aaron said anything about a dinner service. Wait staff carry silver platters and hold bottles of champagne, but each time you approach one they seem to have already headed in another direction. JJ and Derek are both supposed to be here tonight, but you haven’t seen either of them since you arrived. You cast your gaze for Derek’s figure, searching for an easy gait and a strong set of shoulders. You cock your head waiting for a hint of JJ’s practised, polite laughter, but any familiar signs are gone. You can’t even find Aaron anymore, and your shoes are pinching your toes.

Disaster. You should’ve listened to Aaron when he told you to size up, just you doubted his knowledge of ladies shoes considering how rarely he wears them. Stupid man, you think to yourself, lovingly yet ruefully as you sit down at one of the uninhabited tables to the very side of the room. Knows everything. Tonight, you’ll limp back to the car and he won’t bother saying I told you so, he’s too good for it, which is worse. He’ll give you one of his amused smiles. He might offer you a massage.

Ridiculous man, you further to yourself, biting back a cheesy smile as you peel your shoe from a sore foot. If you shove your hand deep enough into the toe you can stretch them out a little.

“Darling.”

You look up. Clint McMoore’s resurfaced just a table away with his back to you. A sweet-faced woman with brown hair sits adjacent to him, her shoulder under Clint’s hand.

“You’ll never guess who I just bumped into,” he says.

Me, you think.

“Aaron Hotchner and his new wife.”

“You didn’t,” the woman says.

“I knew you’d be envious of that,” he laughs. “Charlotte, she’s unbelievable.”

Your stomach does a strange flip. He’ll say something nice, you insist, but you know his tone is a precursor for gossipy nonsense.

“I’ve never seen such a mismatched pair,” he says.

Charlotte rolls her eyes at him. “Well, what were you expecting? They were married after six months of knowing one another. I couldn’t so much as tolerate you until our first anniversary.”

“Hardy-har.”

“What’s wrong with her, then?” Charlotte asks.

“Nothing like that, Charlotte. She seemed perfectly pleasant–”

“But?”

“But, she’s nothing like Aaron’s usual woman.”

“Hm, I said as much when we saw their wedding photos.“ They both laugh. “It’s not like she had much of a chance. First Haley, and then that Beth, the designer, she’s in Milan now–”

“He seems rather besotted, in any case,” Clint says. “Very lady and the tramp.”

“Gentleman and the tramp.”

“Don’t be cruel, Charlotte.”

You know in a way that Charlotte is kidding, but you boil up with anger the moment you recognise what it is they’re implying. Then they laugh, and your anger quickly finds itself taking a crueller shape.

You slip your foot back into your shoe slowly. Your throat feels dry and then warm, like a crux of smouldering coal stuck in your windpipe as you stand, jerkily, hand stiff where it holds your weight on a silken tablecloth.

You blink and stare at the floor. It’s marble. It’s shot through with dark veins like a drop of ichor in water.

What the fuck?

You aren’t sure why you’re leaving the hall until you’re walking down the steps of the hotel and turning along the skirts of a hedge. A low brick wall lies in front of it, just short enough to sit on with your heels. Your coccyx stings with the force of how hard you go down.

Your head races with hurt feelings.

You’re not unaware of your husband’s past loves. It comes as no surprise to you that people regard Haley and Beth highly —Haley was extremely beautiful and veritably brave, intelligent, kind-hearted. Beth was funny, Aaron said, and not too much else. Being a designer in Milan hasn’t been mentioned before, but it’s impressive. They’re both impressive, and– and his usual woman.

You rub the starchy stockings stretched over your knees.

What had they meant by usual woman?

Mismatched?

It hadn’t felt mismatched when Aaron asked you to marry him. It wasn’t six months after knowing one another as Clint’s wife suggested, but it wasn’t much more than that. He proposed to you after eight months together, and you were married two months later, which is incredibly fast to some people but it just hadn't felt fast when he asked. It was exciting —it still is.

“Would you marry me, if I asked you to?” he’d said, some seven months after you’d agreed to be his girlfriend. Your head in his lap, his fingers rubbing at the soft skin of your nape. A sleepy Sunday morning like any other, you suppose that was a proposal in itself, but you hadn’t realised that when you murmured, “Yeah, handsome. I would.”

You thought it was just love. Making innocuous comments about the future is part of falling in love. It’s terrifying to tell someone that you’d like to live life in their lap, but you tell them, and they tell you to go ahead if you’re lucky.

He asked you to get married a few weeks later. “I had to talk to Jack,” he explained, “or I would’ve asked you then and there.“

You’re a wife suddenly, a step-mother, a partner. Aaron would’ve sold the house and bought you a new one if you wanted him to, but you like his life. You’ve always felt like you fit right in.

Angry again, you scrub at your knees with itchy palms and practise how you’re going to tell Aaron about his cruel friend. Gossipy was right, what a lark, and you’re not perfectly pleasant, you’re a delight, you hadn’t said one bad word to Clint and you didn’t deserve to be whipped and twisted into a bad joke between sips of Cristal.

Your eyes burn with the injustice of the thing.

Rawness overtakes. A thudding in your chest turns painful, neck wrought with tightness as you hang your head. Hiding from the cold air. November brings with it a promise of chapped lips the longer you stay there, biting into your thighs as your hands turn stiff with disuse.

She was unbelievable.

“Y/N!” The shout is sharp. You’ve never heard Aaron’s voice at that level or with that level of formidability, carrying from the bottom of the hotel stairs. You twist in shock on the wall and watch in real time as his face fills with relief. “Honey,” he says, calling but not half as scary as he jogs to you, “are you alright?”

“What?”

“You scared me,” he insists, bending down to hold your shoulders. “Nobody’s seen you for the last fifteen minutes, sweetheart, we talked about this. You can’t just disappear, you left your purse on the table, I thought something happened to you.”

You startle at his scolding. “I–”

“You should feel my heart.”

“I didn’t mean to come out here.”

“I wish you would’ve let somebody know,” he says. His frown softens slowly, but the concern around his eyes remains. “What?” he asks.

“Sorry.”

His eyes finally soften. “No, I’m sorry. It’s alright, I just worry when you’re not with me.”

“That’s romantic.”

He holds your cheek, pulling you in, and gives you two gentle kisses. Your lips part instinctively to receive them. “We’ll get our things and go home. It looks as though dinner isn’t happening.” He smiles. “Why were you out here?”

“Scavenging for food.”

That gets a laugh out of him, and another nice kiss. “You tried your best.”

—

Aaron takes you home, and when dinner’s been cleared away, when you’ve showered and he’s undressed, he pulls you toward the bed and kisses you warmly. His eyes track from your face to the tucked corner of your towel, a silent Can I?

You let him take it off. He lays you out, and for a while you’re only his. His wife, his half, his to tease and turn and delight. He says “Beautiful,” against your thigh, says, “Honey, is that okay?” says, “Please, I’ve got it, I have you, just let me have you…”

After, he tells you he loves you, his voice still ever so slightly high in contrast to usual dulcet tones.

“I love you, too,” you say.

His breath comes fast. Your lap is a mess he’d wiped as clean as he could manage, the memory of him bearing down on you yet to fade. He lies on his stomach beside you with his arm over yours, his face turned into you, his nose on your cheek.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. “You feel tense.”

“Mm.”

“No, did I hurt you? You’re rigid.” His hands fret a line down the side of your chest. “You didn’t…”

You hadn’t said anything, because he really hadn’t hurt you. But the thoughts you’re having now are intrusive —am I okay? you think. Do I measure up? He’s never made any indication that you’ve let him down, not in sex or anything else, but you’re unbelievable.

You swallow a lump. “Sorry,” you say, the lingering ebbs of pleasure twisting into tears faster than you can stop it.

“Are you crying?” he asks under his breath.

You suck in a breath as he pushes onto his hands.

“These aren’t good tears,” he says.

He’d know. They’re not.

Aaron reaches over you to turn on the lamp on the nightstand before settling, his hand cupping your waist. It’s too much suddenly, too bare, he’s too much to look at as you squeeze your eyes closed. “Sorry,” you squeeze out.

“What did I do?” he asks, holding you carefully. “Please, sweetheart, what’s hurting? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not you.”

“But something does hurt?”

“No, no, I’m okay.” You cover your face with your hands. When you start to sob, it shakes the entire mattress, Aaron’s hand wobbling where it cups your ribs.

“Please.” His thumb works a soft spot into your skin. “Honey, please, you can’t cry now without telling me what’s wrong.” He tries a laugh, but it falls flat. “Honey. Honey.”

It wasn’t the sex. He never does anything wrong, he’s so gentle even when he isn’t, and if he did you’d only have to tell him, but the rush of being touched by him so nicely, fuck, the way he’d been looking at you, the way he took your face into his hand as he moved —you’re not trying to be a crier, but he makes you feel like you’re everything and you’re just not.

He looks sick.

“It wasn’t you, it was at the gala,” you manage.

For a long while after, you can’t get a word out. You shiver and sob as Aaron scoops you into his chest, his nose in your shoulder waiting for you to calm down. He rubs your waist, fingers parted and waving slowly as he shushes you. Not to make you stop, though. He’s reassuring.

“What happened at the gala?” he asks quietly.

“It’s so stupid.”

“No, it’s alright. Can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

You wrap your arms around his head. It really is stupid, you feel smaller than an ant under the shadow of a giant heel. Aaron doesn’t waver when you struggle to answer, feeling around behind you for a pillow and helping you against it. He kisses your forehead. “Let me get you something to wear.”

You catch his wrist. “It wasn’t you, wasn’t–” You lift your chin.

He kisses you. “Okay,” he says simply. “Let’s get dressed.”

He dresses quickly, bringing you underwear and one of your sleep shirts, a loose fit. You shuffle into them and watch him patiently as he cleans the small mess of the evening away. You’re sniffling softly when he returns to you, sitting with his back to your thighs.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry if I read things wrong. I never would’ve initiated anything if I knew you were feeling like this.”

You laugh weakly, worriedly, looking at him through your lashes. “It made me feel better,” you admit.

“If this is better, you must’ve been feeling awful.”

You relax as he puts his hand on your thigh.

“In the time I left you to talk to Strauss, something upset you. JJ and Morgan didn’t see you. So someone in the gala said something or did something that made you leave. If you tell me who it was, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“You’re trying to bargain with me,” you mumble.

“I’m just telling you what can be done. I can take care of things.”

“It’s nothing… nothing so severe. You’ll wonder why I–” You give an unexpected sob. “Made all this fuss.”

“I don’t think I’ll wonder,” he says.

You laugh through tears. These ones are slow, your eyes already itchy from crying.

“Please tell me.” He tries teasing instead of sternness, lowering his face to yours. “Or I’ll cry too.”

“Aaron.”

“I will. You think I can’t, but seeing you crying like this, it’s more than enough ammunition.”

You let out a breath, admitting defeat. “Your friend, Clint? I overheard him with his wife. He didn’t have very nice things to say about me.”

“What could he possibly have to say?” Aaron asks with a frown.

You pull the sheets up your legs. “He said I’m… unbelievable, and I don’t think he meant it kindly. Said that I’m not your type, and that I… I had no chance of measuring up, because of who you’ve been with before. They were laughing about our wedding photos.” Your throat feels pressed into by a hot poker. “They said we were the gentleman and the tramp.”

His eyes squint. He looks disgusted, and for an uncomfortable moment you feel like it might be directed at you, but then he scoffs. “What a crock of shit.”

“Aaron!” you laugh.

“What could Clint McMoore possibly know about marriage? This is his fourth wife. And to imply that you’re any sort of calibre below the women I’ve dated before isn’t just misogynistic nonsense, it’s not true. You are the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, and what’s that supposed to mean, gentlemen and the tramp?” He gives you such an earnest glare of confusion that you can’t for a second doubt what it is he’s saying. “I’m sorry, honey, I think he’s allowed himself a few too many nightcaps over the years. Perhaps he’s suffered a stroke.”

“Aaron, don’t say that,” you chide, secretly very pleased.

“Our wedding photos,” he says, his hand drifting further down your leg to rest just shy of somewhere more intimate, “are beautiful. You look beautiful. Clint would’ve writhed in jealousy in the pews if he’d been invited, because he would’ve seen it for himself.”

“I just sat there while they laughed at me,” you mumble.

“What were you supposed to do?” His hand travels out, to your hip, and then he holds you by the waist with both of his hands. They have a way of making you feel encapsulated, big and strong and careful on the bump of your hips.

“I don’t know.”

“Nothing,” he says, meeting your eyes with his usual tender-hearted compassion. “You weren’t supposed to do or say anything.” Aaron appears younger than he is for a second, his eyebrows raised, eyes big and brown as they track over your lips. “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he was like that. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“I guess I’m just worried he’s right.”

“He’s not right. You are everything to me.” Again, he puts weight on the word, roughly said, like it takes a lot from him to say it. “I’m lucky to have been with women who were beautiful, and intelligent, but if there’s a question of you measuring up, there’s no competition. I’ve never been this in love.”

You take a shaky breath. “Never?” you ask.

He holds your gaze. “I knew it when we met. That's why I couldn’t wait to ask you to marry me.”

“You said you weren’t getting any younger.”

“Well, I’m not, but not everything’s about my age, you know,” he says, giving your waist a playful squeeze.

”You said it.”

“I did. That felt easier to say than, if I don’t marry you soon I might implode,” —he shuffles forward, encroaching on your legs and pressing his lips to your cheek— “would’ve just,” —he kisses your cheek, before turning your head— “wasted all that time waiting for someone else’s idea of the right time,” —and he kisses the other cheek, his nose skirting up your face— “wishing I was your husband when I could just,” —he smiles into your eyebrow as his hand slips under your shirt, holding your bare back— “ask.”

“I’m glad you asked me.”

You’d cried then, too, but it was less to do with a rush of adrenaline that knocked you out of balance and more to do with how lovingly he’d taken your hand as he asked. You knew from that moment on that someone was going to take care of you for the rest of your life. He’s doing it right now.

“I love you,” you say, forcing your arms over his shoulders.

He pulls you in so much that you lift from the mattress.

“I love you. Are you sure it wasn’t me that upset you? I have to check.”

“No. What you did to me wasn’t particularly upsetting.”

He laughs. “Are you sure? You can look a little teary–”

You shush him quickly.

He tips your head to the side to kiss your ear. “Maybe next time, you can tell me about whatever upset you beforehand.”

“And you can make me feel even better.”

His laugh is nearly inaudible, but his lips are by the side of your head. You hear it, the warmth of his breath kissing the shell of your ear.

—

Aaron likes to see you in your sweatpants. You look nice in everything, especially your dresses for the evening events he often drags you to, but he likes it when you wear sweatpants because it opens a window. You’ve purchased the wrong size, too big and too long, but you’ve tied them at the waist and you make do. You’re wearing the big shirt he helped you into the night before, sitting on the couch with your ferried breakfast.

The night before has been washed away, no sign of tears or upset. You have a clean, bright face, one he’d quite like to kiss, or hold, or have pressed to his neck, but none of this is unusual. Your eyes look sore, if he really looks. He’ll make you a compress after breakfast.

Dropped off by Jess an hour ago, Jack sits beside you picking at the breakfast tray. You’re sharing a plate. You don’t ever mind.

“Are you eating that one?” you ask.

Jack immediately nudges half of a chocolate chip pancake your way. “Was the gala fun?”

“Uh, sure. Saw your dad’s friends. But they had a weird thing with the caterers and we had to get dinner on the way home.”

“You could’ve made dad cook.”

“I guess, but we were tired. What did you have for dinner?”

“Jess made spicy chicken. It was amazing.” Jack squints at you. “Your eyes are puffy, Y/N. Are you sick?”

“I think I might be a little. Not enough to make you sick too, don’t worry.”

Aaron piles the last of the pancakes onto a plate and carries them to you in the living room. “Here, you two.”

“Did you eat?” you ask.

He loves you, bending over to kiss your forehead right in the middle. “Yes.”

“How come they didn’t have dinner at the gala, dad? I thought that was the whole point,” Jack says.

He sits down next to Jack on the couch. You cut a big square of pancake and grin at him, seemingly pleased with your breakfast and Jack’s sense of humour.

“It was a disaster, that’s all. No food, barely any wine, and terrible, awful company.”

“I thought Miss Jareau went?”

“She did. But besides her and a handful of others, it was a party for sad old people.”

“And you didn’t have fun?” Jack asks.

You laugh so hard tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Aaron cups Jack’s shoulder, surprised when his son doesn’t duck away from the touch. The older he gets the less affection he requires, so it’s nice for Aaron to hug him sideways and be allowed, better that you finish your choking laugh with a hug of your own. “Jack, thank you for that. I think you cured whatever illness I had,” you say.

“Hey,” Aaron says.

You run your hand up his neck. Your wedding ring catches against his jaw.

“It was worth going, though, to see your step-mom in her nice dress,” Aaron says, peeling away from Jack so he has room to breathe.

Jack turns to you, and his smile is audible, “Do you have any pictures?”

“I didn’t take any, sorry.”

“Just think of her now but in a dress, and that’s how beautiful she looked,” Aaron says.

“Dad, don’t be gross,” Jack says, cutting into the pancakes with his fork.

“It’s not gross, it’s just a fact.” Jack drops pancake down his front. Warm chocolate chips stain his t-shirt. “Missed your mouth, bud. I’ll get a rag.”

He’s up as quickly as he sat down, running his fingers along your arm and to the palm of your hand, touching you until he can’t. He heads back into the kitchen. His phone is beeping on the table, screen flashing with each new text.

Penelope: boss, I think the thing you asked for is illegal

Penelope: also, I assume you were kidding?

Penelope: so while making it that every link on McMoore’s computer freezes the desktop would’ve been very very funny, I didn’t do that

Aaron had been kidding, emphatically, because illegal activities aren’t his style. It was a sarcastic suggestion, and yet he’s disappointed nonetheless.

Penelope: I just signed him up for a bunch of recovering narcissists forums and an email subscription for self help, and maybe also a free online class about manners and etiquette

Penelope: And I ordered that big canvas for you. It was the one of you guys cutting the cake, right?

Aaron texts her back quickly: Thank you, Penelope. I couldn’t work out the dimensions online.

Penelope: You’re welcome! I live to serve :D

The canvas will look good in the entryway, Aaron believes. Somewhere you can see it, and remember exactly what it is he thinks of you; his eyes glowing with love where he’d been staring at your face, his hand guided yours atop the knife as he traced your features, and you cut that first, fat slice of cake.

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thanks so much for reading! please think about commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed I love knowing what you think!❤️

also small note: this fic is in no way meant to diminish haley im a haley supporter usually (these days at least!) and I just didn’t mention her for brevity’s sake

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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chillyfeetsteak · 10 months ago

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I first became fascinated with it a few years ago when I noticed it out an airplane window on a flight from Texas to Southern California. In an expanse of endless desert, suddenly, a vast body of water. When I got home, I immediately looked it up on a map. The Salton Sea.

It’s the largest landlocked body of water in California. It sits right on top of the San Andreas Fault at over 200 feet below sea level. It is more than twice as salty as the Pacific Ocean. It is completely toxic. And I had never heard of it before then.

(photo essay under the cut)

In the early 1900s the Colorado River was diverted through a series of irrigation canals in order to provide water for the farmlands of Imperial Valley. One of the head-gates broke during a flood, and the desert basin filled with water for 2 years before it was fixed. The unexpected lake soon became a popular vacation destination; it was stocked with fish, and resorts and hotels popped up along its shores. It became known as a great place for sport fishing, waterskiing, and yacht parties. Big name celebrities visited. At one point, it had more annual visitors than Yosemite.

Salton Sea has no outlet, and is only filled via agricultural runoff. As the water evaporated in the hot desert sun, the lake became more and more saline. Chemicals began to build up from the run off causing toxic algae blooms, and mass die-offs of fish and birds started in the 80s. By the 90s, the beaches were littered with fish gills and bird bones and the resorts were abandoned. The lake began to dry up as irrigation run-off was diverted away. The exposed lake bed is also toxic, and the high desert winds kick up the dust, making the air poisonous.

Despite the unpleasant odor, the noxious air and the summer temperatures regularly reaching 120°, a renaissance of sorts began in the early 2010s. Artist and nomad colonies began to spring up around Salton Sea. Bombay Beach, once a popular resort destination, is now mostly a ghost town, but the folks who remain have turned the ruins on the shores into an outdoor art installation gallery where the found-art sculptures are cyclically destroyed by the elements and then replaced with new ones. Many of the houses and RVs in town are themselves art pieces.

In nearby Slab City, a settlement of off-the-grid lifestylers, you can find even more folk art. Salvation Mountain is a manmade hill painted with bright colors and bible verses and maintained by a community of volunteers. East Jesus is a sculpture garden and art installation.

This past weekend my partner and I finally made the pilgrimage to the Sea. California has the benefit of being home to a huge array of biomes. In just a couple of hours you can travel from snowy mountain peaks to lush oases to endless sand dunes. Driving the hour or so south from Palm Springs towards Salton Sea is like driving towards the end of the world.

Bombay Beach especially enamored me. The beach is crusted with salt and millions of tiny shells and bones. It smells awful, like sewage and chemicals and low-tide and rotting fish. You drive out onto the beach and park anywhere amongst the sculptures and deteriorating resort ruins. The art feels raw in a way I haven’t experienced before. It reminds me of seeing paleolithic cave art. Humans made this, with no motivation other than to create something intriguing or beautiful or sad. Not much can live out here, but what you find fills me with a great adoration for humanity. Despite the asphyxiation of the natural world, the human spirit persists.

#im sure most people know about this place but i didnt so!!#i hated writing essays in school but now in my 30s i do it for fun apparently #photos are all mine except the first one #salton sea #bombay beach #slab city #salvation mountain

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petew21-blog · 5 months ago

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Family swap: Boys just wanna have fun!

My name is Robert Philip Cornell. I come from a very succesful family of lawyers. And in order to honor my family's legacy I continued in this tradition. Therefore I hope that one of my sons, preferably both, will continue this path as well. Unfortunately my twins, Richard and Philip, are very much like me and their mother. Inteligent, very good looking and thanks to our wealth, powerful. And they know how to use that. But sometimes I wonder if they should appreciate our legacy more than they do now. If you asked me right now and I answered that they were high, drunk or fucking someone, I'd definitely hit atleast one of the three if not all of them.

I was in Johannesburg to help close a company I represent a great deal. After signing we ended having a few coctails and then I left the group to my hotel room. Suddenly a WhatsApp message came to my mobile phone. From my wife Anna

"I'm sorry for interupting your meeting. Call me asap when you're free. It's the boys"

Oh god. What now? I dialed my wife's phone number

Anna:"Hey love. How was the meeting?"

Robert:"Hi, all went well. What's happening?"

Anna:"Philip took the boat. Richard covered him and as soon as the boat left the harbour he followed him. They just wanted to trick me. So now they're once again having a party on the sea, absolutely high as always. I just hope the cost guard will be understanding once again"

Robert:"Honey. I know you mean well with them, but I think it's time"

Anna:"Robert no. You can't be serious. Don't you remember what happened with your father and you when you two did this? Your father wanted to 'teach you a lesson', then you spent a shit ton of money and almost destroyed his reputation."

Robert:"And look where it got me. I know that the boys will understand eventually"

Anna:"So what are you gonna do? It wouldn't be fair to swap only one of them and there isn't another male figure left in your family to swap them with"

Robert:"I wasn't thinking of a male figure to be honest"

Anna:"Are you crazy? One of my sons in my FEMALE body? Robert, I don't think I'm comfortable with that. I can't imagine one of them treating my body decently"

Robert:"I am not happy with one of them ruining my image too or even treating my and yours body, but I believe that they will learn the lesson soon enough. Besides, wouldn't you wanna take those two teen hormonal bodies for a spin?"

Anna:"You're a tease Robert... when?"

Robert:"How about right now? I am in a hotel room. So let's say, Richard can try to get out of South Africa back home and Philip now can try to figure out and stress alone in your body on an island, how to get their original bodies back"

Anna:"Robert... you're evil. Then I am looking forward to see you in a minute"

Robert:"See you soon, my love"

A few minutes passed since Robert wanted to write down some instructions and so did Anna

Richard and Philip were on a yacht, blasting music and approaching the beach of the city they were headed to. Suddenly a text message sound. Philip opened the message first. It said:"Since you boys want to be on your own and enjoy everything life has to offer, we give you our bodies to take care of and with them the duties of maintaining our family image. Yes, you now have to work, yes you have to provide for the family. And yes, one of you will be a female. Treat our bodies with respect and we will do the same."

Philip:"Dude is dad tripping? What the hell is that?"

Richard:"I think I'm too high for this, bro"

A very nauseating feeling that didn't originate from the waves of the sea sweat through the two teens. Both trying hard not to vomit

Richard's P.O.V.

The feeling passed. There was a bright artificial light around him and he felt water coming down his chest. Wait what? How did he get in the shower? Was he that high that he didn't even remember the boat landing, the party or anything?

Richard looked down on his chest

"What the fuck?!?" a deep voice echoed the walls of the shower

"Philip? Did you bleach my chest hair? They're grey you fucker. And what the hell happened to my voice? I sound like dad."

I wasn't paying much attention to myself and what was actually happening. I just took a towel, exitted the shower and tried to find out where the hell I was. I looked around and couldn't find much. It was a pretty normal hotel room, on the bed I saw my fathers briefcase and his clothes. There was a note on the bed:"Wanted to hand you everything clean and ready. BEHAVE and don't ruin my body! Love, dad"

"What the actual fuck is this?"

The reality was starting to him the. The text message, the note, the chest hair. I was scared to look in the mirror, but there was no other way of knowing

"You son of a bitch!" he really did it. My new reflection wasn't the one I was used to, but seemed like my much older one and a but distorted along with a beard. My father is a very handsome man, I have to give him that. But it is very different from the point of view of his son. Your parents aren't suppose to be hot, they're disgusting to you no matter how they look. Yet here I was standing, watching my father's muscular, grey-haired torso. His veins on his biceps. His piercing eyes that I knew very precisely, cause these ones were the ones that raised me. The ones that always seemed the most disappointed.

But now. I was behind these eyes. And my father did this to me on purpose. He wanted to give me another life lesson. "You know what dad? Fuck you!"

I dropped the towel I put around my waist before to reveal a hairy flacid dick. Ew, I never thought I would see my father's dick from this point of view. We'll here we are. But it's not bad to be honest. Might give it a little trim and the chicks would dig it.

I took a second before doing that to really think hard. I had to look away from the mirror causing watching my father jerk off wasn't something I would get off to daily. But watching this nice cock get hard in my hands as I was palying with these hairy balls and the foreskin, that was something. Looking down I was really proud. I am still muscular, I look amazing and I got a nice dick. Doesn't matter what dad does to me. I'll enjoy this punishment.

I grabbed my new dick hard. I squeezed it until I felt pain. And then I started jerking it. I spit in my hand and played with the head, almost instantly. I stopped and resumed jerking. I was hairy everywhere. I wasn't used to that. I wasn't even thinking about this body as my father's anymore.

My right hand was curious enough to get into the jungle between my buttcheeks. And what a jungle it is. I spit into that hand as well.

"Sorry, daddy. Boys just wanna have fun"

I pushed one finger inside. I could that this body has never experinced that. I'll enjoy that even more. I pushed in another finger and then kept on pushing until I couldn't. I felt my new prostate. So sensitive! I pushed and pulled. Almost forgetting to jerk off at the same time. I got in sync and could only scream in pleasure. I was so close. I could feel the sensation building up. If I were in my body I would stop to take care of the mess in time. But I didn't care. I let it pour outside off me. The cum got into my chest hair and on my abs. I let out a sight of relief

Collapsed on the bed, I noticed dad's phone lighting up. Mom was calling. Wait, is it really mom or is Philip also swapped? I gotta know. I took the phone to my ear and answered

Philip:"Those fuckers. What are we gonna do about them?"

Richard:"I don't know about you, but I just had the best orgasm in my life"

Philip:"You're so disgusting Rich, that's our fathers body, you know that?"

Richard:"Yeah, but that didn't stop me. And I don't think you should stop either. The women say that their orgasm is so much more intense, so now you'll know"

Philip:"I don't know if I am ok with that. It's our mother's pussy, bro"

Richard:"Yeah and? I just fingered our father ass. Suck it up big boy. I'll send you a location. I'll take a plane and we'll meet there?"

Philip:"You're nasty bro. See you there I guess. Wait, wait do you know what is this tiny weird thing sticking out at the top of the vagina?"

I packed my fahter's things and set off to meet my bro, or wife?. I went to the local mall and slightly altered my visage. Do you think they'll let me inside of the plane like this? Oh and one tiny request I gotta send to our butler

Robert and Anna's P.O.V.

Anna:"I must admit, Robert, I haven't felt so full off energy in ages!"

Robert:"That might be the drugs the boys took, haha"

Anna:"No, seriously. The boys got great bodies, but our bodies aren't as much vital as these ones. We have to go do something!"

Robert:"How about we continue in the plans that the boys had? Might be fun"

We arrived to an empty beach with no one in sight.

Robert:"Did you check the coordinates?"

Anna:"Sorry, dear but I am still very high. I am still surprised we didn't crash the boat"

Robert:"Haha. It's so funny to see Philip call me honey. Haha, jesus. I think I am still also high"

Anna:"Wanna maybe lie down here and just... chill. Or how do the kids these days call it?"

Robert:"Haha. 'Kids these days'. Philip looks like a nostalgic senior now"

Anna in Philip's body laughed. "Yeah and what are you? A teen king who knows all the trends?" she ran up to him and pushed him on the ground

Both boys's bodies still very high. They very playfully fighting in the sand. Rolling around, like two teenage boys would

Suddenly Anna planted Robert a kiss. Robert was shocked and stared at her not returning it

Anna:"I still see you as you. I don't care what bodies we're in. Even if we were worms I'd ¹still love you"

Robert:"Anna, I... don't think I can do this"

Anna grabbed Robert's new hard dick and looked back at him:"Then don't think at all. Just love me"

Anna kissed him again and this time Robert kissed back. He felt the love his wife had for him and kissed the another boys body back.

The two identical boys now with their hands all over their bodies. Exploring each other as if it were a mirror. A mirror that they made out. A mirror that they were caressing and pressing their hard dick against.

Ther dicks were out. Anna in Philip's body just laughed as she felt her husband sucking her dick:"I understand why you always beg me. This is so goood. Keep going!"

Robert didn't believe what he was doing, but he couldn't really keep thinking that or else he would go mad. Sucking his son's dick was definitely not on his bucket list.

Robert got into a 69 position. Twins giving each other the same pleasure. What a sight for horny eyes.

They didn't talk. They were mouthful, so there was no room for talking. Each gagging on each others dick. Giving pleasure to the other one. Thursting and enjoying the same feeling from the other. They were close very close. And they both came almost at the same time. They got some perfecting to do.

They were in each other's arms, naked on the beach sand. Enjoying the view of the other one. Just smiling at each other.

And just then, the family Butler arrived with security to the beach.

Nigel:"Good afternoon gentlemen. I have strickt orders from your parents to transport you back to your house and to enroll you back into high school. You have your senior year to finish and you have to pass all your exams. Your parents also gave a strict rule of no alcohol, no drugs and no visits in your home. Shall we leave?"

Robert to Anna:"Oh that's what I forgot. Fuck, Richard is good. This is gonna be very good for him. I think he'll be the next one to continue."

Anna:"Did you just hear what Nigel said, honey?"

Robert:"All I heard was that I will spend a lot off tíme together with the love of my life. I don't care how painful it will be. We get to be young again and together. And don't forget that the boys share bedroom, honey." I saw Anna blushing and smile as she opened the car door.

Richard a Philip's P.O.V.

Philip:"Are you sure we're safe like this?"

Richard:"Yeah, bro. They're gonna have to go to high school and all. Nigel already has them at home. We get to live no without nagging"

Philip:"Yeah, so amazing to have no nagging, but If you haven't noticed I am the one with mums pussy."

Richard:"And I bet it's hungry for dick"

Philip:"Why on earth didn't they swap you into mum instead of me. I'm not even bi. I won't enjoy the sex as much as you will"

Richard;"Ok, I promile that tonight I'll show you that you're now definitely on the spectrum and that I now have a magnificent dick that will make you very happy"

Philip:"Fine. So, we gonna party now or what?"

Richard:"The festival hasn't even started yet and you wanna party already. I think we're now the oldest people here dude."

Philip:"Well then let's show them how older people party!"

An inbox story that I played with a tiny bit :D

Could you write a story about parents swapping bodies with their twin kids since they don’t behave. Now the parents in the boys body must go to school and enjoy their youth while the boys in their parents bodies have to give to work and be responsible.

If you haven't seen your story yet, don't worry I got a lot of them in the inbox, some of them are partially written in the drafts and are now just waiting for me to have more time and be horny enough to finish them 😈

#Body swap #Family swap #Father swap #Mother swap #Mtf body swap #Mtm bodyswap #Twins swap #Son swap #Father son body swap

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reasonsforhope · 11 months ago

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"Discarded shells from restaurants and hotels are being used to restore damaged oyster ecosystems, promote biodiversity and lower pollution in the city’s bays...

Nestled in between the South China Sea and the Pearl River Delta, Hong Kong has been seen historically as an oyster hotspot. “They have been supporting our livelihood since ancient times,” says Anniqa Law Chung-kiu, a project manager at the Nature Conservancy (TNC) in Hong Kong. “Both oysters and their shells are treasures to humans.”

Over the past five decades, however, the city’s sprawling urban development, water pollution, as well as the over-harvesting and frequent seafloor dredging by the lime industry – which uses the crushed shells to make construction material – have destroyed Hong Kong’s oyster habitats and made the waters less hospitable for biodiversity.

The more oyster colonies falter, the worse the problem gets: oysters are filter feeders and purify water by gobbling up impurities. Just one Hong Kong oyster can filter up to 200 litres of water a day, more than any other known oyster species. But decades of rapid industrialisation have largely halted their water-purifying services.

The depletion of Hong Kong’s natural oyster reefs also affects the ability of local farmers to sustainably cultivate their oysters in a healthy environment, denting the reputation of the city’s 700-year oyster farming tradition, designated by Unesco as an “intangible cultural heritage”.

Inhabitants of the coast feel abandoned, says Ken Cheng Wai-kwan, the community leader of Ha Pak Nai on Hong Kong’s Deep Bay, facing the commercial city of Shenzhen in China. “This place is forgotten,” Cheng says. “Oysters have been rooted here for over 400 years. I ask the question: do we want to lose it, or not?”

A group of activists and scientists are taking up the challenge by collecting discarded oyster shells and recycling them to rebuild some of the reefs that have been destroyed and forgotten in the hope the oysters may make a comeback. They’ve selected locations around the island where data they’ve collected suggests ecosystems still have the potential to be rebooted, and there are still enough oyster larvae to recolonise and repopulate reefs. Ideally, this will have a positive effect on local biodiversity as a whole, and farming communities.

Farmers from Ha Pak Nai were among the first to hand over their discarded shells to the TNC team for recycling. Law’s team works with eight oyster farmers from Deep Bay to recycle up to 10 tonnes of shells every year [over 22,000 pounds]. They collect an average of 870kg every week [over 1,900 pounds] from 12 hotels, supermarkets, clubhouses and seafood restaurants in the city, including some of its most fashionable establishments. About 80 tonnes of shells [over 176,000 pounds] have been recycled since the project began in 2020.

Restaurants will soon be further incentivised to recycle the shells when Hong Kong introduces a new fee for waste removal – something that is routine in many countries, but only became law in Hong Kong in July and remains controversial...

Preliminary data shows some of the restored reefs have started to increase the levels of biodiversity, but more research is needed to determine to what extent they are contributing to the filtering of the water, says Law.

Scientists from the City University of Hong Kong are also looking to use oyster shells to increase biodiversity on the city’s concrete seawalls. They hope to provide tiny, wet shelter spots around the seawall in which organisms can find refuge during low tide.

“It’s a form of soft engineering, like a nature-based solution,” says Charlene Lai, a research assistant on the team."

-via The Guardian, December 22, 2023

#oyster #oyster farming #sea shells #seafood #hong kong #ecosystem restoration #biodiversity #ecosystem #water pollution #clean water #cultural heritage #marine life #marine animals #marine science #good news #hope

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vintagelasvegas · 6 days ago

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Dunes Hotel & Casino '55-'93

Dunes, 1955. Kodachrome photo from Charles Phoenix.

Timeline of the Dunes

’53-54: First announced as Hotel Araby (RJ 11/1/53), then became known as Vegas Plaza, and Hotel Deauville (RJ 1/20/54, 4/23/54). Named the Dunes by the time of groundbreaking, 6/22/54 (RJ).

’55: May 23, original owners Robert Rice, Al Gottesman, Joseph Sullivan, Alexander Barad and Jason Tarsey open the $4 million Dunes Hotel-Casino with 200 rooms on an 85-acre site. Architect J Replogle, designer R. Dorr Jr. Signs and Sultan figure by YESCO (RJ 5/23/55).

’55: Aug., Dunes leased by Sands partners and reopened in Sep. Subsequent financial difficulties cause the casino to be closed, 1/56.

’56: Bill Miller, Major A. Riddle, and Robert Rice are licensed to reopen the casino in May. In Nov., the license is changed to add M&R Investment Co. on the license as the company that operates the Dunes.

’57: Jan., Minsky’s Follies opens the first topless show at a Strip resort.

’59: Convention Hall addition.

’61: Olympic Wing addition.

’62: Riddle sells 15 percent of the stock to M&R Investment Corp., whose stockholders now include Charles Rich, Sidney Wyman and George Duckworth. Tower groundbreaking, 10/21/62.

’64: May, Sultan figure moved to golf course. In Oct-Nov, the 180-ft sign is installed in Oct., and switched on 11/12/64.

’65: Jun, opening of Dome of the Sea and the 24-story tower. Dunes Golf Course opened.

’69: Continental Connector Corp., a publicly traded company, buys the Dunes in a $59M stock transfer in May. In Dec, the SEC charges that CCC defrauded stockholders in the proxy statement it issued offering to buy the Dunes. CCC settles the SEC complaint in ’76. At this time, bankers E. Parry Thomas and Jerome Mack are principals in M&R and CCC.

’74: In Sep., Gaming Control Board files a complaint against the Dunes for catering and "comping" alleged Kansas City mob chief Nick Civella, one of 11 members of the Black Book, Nevada's List of Excluded Persons. The Dunes ultimately was fined $10,000.

’75: In Feb., Morris Shenker buys an interest in M&R through his IJK Nevada Inc. Later in the year, Dunes owners Shenker and Riddle are asked about allegations that reputed mobster Anthony Spilotro had "set up shop" at the Dunes. Spilotro reportedly was spending up to 14 hours a day in the poker room and appeared to be using it as an office.

’76: In Jun., Shenker sues the Teamsters Union for $140M for backing out of a loan commitment, which was to be used to add another 1,000 rooms. In Oct., Dept of Labor intervenes, saying the loan was prohibited. In ’80, Shenker's breach of contract lawsuit is tossed out of court by U.S. District Judge Roger Foley.

’79: South tower opened in summer. Shenker announces the Dunes will construct a $65M hotel-casino in Atlantic City. FBI affidavits are unsealed claiming that two confidential informants "both advised that the Kansas City organized crime group headed by Nick Civella has a concealed interest fronted by Shenker at the Dunes." Shenker denies the allegations.

’80: In Jan., alleged members of the NY Columbo family are discovered staying for free at the Dunes. Gaming Control Board Chairman Richard Bunker says the "comping" did not violate the law or gaming regulations. Later, four of the group, including Joseph Columbo Jr., are indicted on charges of obtaining money under false pretenses in an airline ticket reimbursement scam. The indictment is dismissed by District Judge Joseph Pavlikowski and in ’84 was reinstated by the NV Supreme Court.

’82: Aug., the $17M Oasis Casino opens, doubling the existing casino space at the resort. Design by Farris Alexander Congdon Architects. New 2-floor casino includes Xanadunes electronic gaming area, and Video-Video arcade space (RJ 8/13/82, 8/20/82).

’82: Dec., Stuart and Clifford Perlman agree to buy the Dunes for $185M. The brothers loan Shenker $4M and $2.9M of that sum is used to pay overdue federal payroll taxes and avoid the seizure of assets by the IRS. Shenker denies the resort is on the verge of bankruptcy. Docs filed with the SEC indicate the property is in default on a number of loans and a number of creditors threaten foreclosure action.

’83: The Perlmans assume management of the Dunes in Apr., and operate it for four months before the sale collapses in Aug.

’83: Oct., a foreclosure sale of the Dunes' golf course and some other property is averted when problems are worked out with the trustees of the Hotel & Restaurant Employees and Bartenders Int’l Union and the trustees of the Nevada Culinary and Bartenders Pension Trust, which are owed $1.5M for non-payment of union benefits.

’83: Dec., a federal jury in Las Vegas decides that Shenker owes $34M to the So. Nevada Culinary and Bartenders Pension Fund for defaulting on loans in ’73-’75 to two of Shenker's land companies, Sierra Charter Corp. and IJK Nevada.

’84: Feb., Shenker files for personal bankruptcy in Missouri to protect his assets from the $34M judgment. The IRS claims that the 78-year-old Shenker owes $66M in unpaid taxes stretching back 20 years. Shenker's bankruptcy filing claimed assets of $82M and liabilities of $197M, the largest debt ever recorded in the St. Louis bankruptcy court.

’84: Mar., Valley Bank of Nevada heads a consortium to lend the Dunes $68.6M as part of a debt restructuring plan.

’84: May, John Anderson buys a controlling interest in the Dunes with his JBA Investments Inc. Anderson signs a $25M note to pay the Perlmans for the $35M they invested in the resort. Shenker's 26 percent interest remains under the control of the bankruptcy court.

’84: Jun., the FBI alleges that Shenker approved $600,000 in kickbacks to alleged Milwaukee crime boss Frank Balistrieri in connection with loans from the Teamsters Union to Allen Glick, who later bought four Las Vegas resorts before being forced out of gaming by Nevada officials. Shenker denies the kickback allegations. No charges are filed.

’85: Feb., Dunes is cited for failing to retrofit the property to meet fire safety standards. About $2.2M is spent on retrofitting during the first half of the year.

’85: May, former Gaming Control Board Chairman Richard Bunker leaves his position as corporate treasurer of Circus Circus Ent. to become president of the Dunes.

’85: Aug., Jack Bona buys out the Dunes' 49 percent interest in its Atlantic City property in a $21M sale. The next day, Bona places the property in a Ch. 11 reorganization in bankruptcy court.

’85: Sept. 27, Dunes defaults on the $68.6M bank loan and Valley Bank moves ahead with the legal steps required for a foreclosure sale Dec. 23.

’85: Oct. 24, Federal marshals begin seizing cash from the Dunes casino cage to pay a $2.7M judgment obtained by trustees of the Culinary and Bartenders unions. They accept a $200,000 check and leave the cash in the cage.

’85: Nov. 1, Marshals return to collect the remaining $17M owed to the unions but are halted by a last-minute restraining order.

’85: Nov. 6, Dunes' operating company. M&R Investment, files for reorganization under Chapter 11.

’87: Masao Nangaku buys the Dunes for $157M.

’92: Nov., Dunes bought by Mirage Inc. for $75M.

’93: Jan. 26, closed. North tower and sign demolished 10/27/93.

‘94: Jul. 20, South tower demolished.

A major source for the timeline is Jane Ann Morrison. Judge Approves Payday for Dunes Employees. Review-Journal, 11/7/85.

Dunes, 1955. This is the original layout of the resort, before the addition of the Convention Hall and Olympic wing. Photo by Ed Screeton. Dunes Hotel Photograph Collection (PH-00281), UNLV Special Collections & Archives.

Late '64. The 180-foot sign has recently been completed. Dome of the Sea restaurant and the hotel tower are nearing completion. Culinary Workers Union Local 226 Photographs, UNLV Special Collections & Archives.

#Dunes #1955

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whattehell · 3 months ago

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Hello

I hope my message finds you well

I would really appreciate it if you could help me by donating to save me and my family from the dangers of war and death in Gaza and escape to a safe place

Please share, repost or donate to my family 🙏

https://gofund.me/b60fb34d

Of course! Asmaa's campaign of €45,000 will help evacuate Asmaa and her family of eight. They used to live in the house of her older brother, "Dia", and with their cat, "Timur" but sadly the war took it away from them. They are only at €11,631/€45,000 so please donate as much as you can, and always reblog

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octuscle · 8 months ago

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Total and life-changing solar eclipse

Michael was more than pissed off. He had been planning this April 8, 2024 for over two years. Almost all his friends from astronomy class had gone to Mazatlan, Austin or Niagara Falls. Despite all the logistical challenges, Michael wanted to see the solar eclipse at the Epi Center in Nazas. He was on the road for over 36 hours. And now his luggage with all his equipment had not arrived. And he was three and a half hours late. All he had was his special sunglasses. No telescope. No binoculars. All lost somewhere between Dublin and Mexico City… The sky was already darkening. The excursion he had signed up for was long gone somewhere in the mountains. Here, right in front of the airfield, it was full of amateurs. Idiots who didn't understand the significance of this eclipse from the Saros cycle. They probably thought it was a miracle. Michael checked Google Maps. He didn't have time to drive to the hotel first. There was no cab. But according to the satellite image, there was a large parking lot or something similar not far away. Good north-south orientation. Michael should have a good view. And hopefully it was emptier and quieter there…

He cursed the fact that he had to watch the eclipse with the naked eye. He cursed the fact that his sun cream with the sun protection factor was God knows where. His red hair shone in the sun. And he could feel himself getting sunburnt. He probably stank of sweat. The last shower had been during the stopover in Chicago. Maybe he should have flown to Toronto after all. But now he was here. And totality was getting closer and closer.

Michael had been fascinated by astronomy ever since he could read. And he had taught himself at the age of four. Michael was the epitome of a nerd. Unathletic. No friends. Assistant in the computer science department at Dublin University. And now he was standing here alone in the sweltering heat in this parking lot. His head on his back. Above him, a spectacle that rarely existed in this form. His anger evaporated. His fascination with the play of sun and moon prevailed. He no longer felt the heat. In fact, it was starting to get cooler. Cooler and cooler. And it was also slowly getting noticeably darker. Until it was as if someone had switched off the light. Michael stared open-mouthed at the sky. He was overwhelmed. The Black Sun was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. All his exertions were forgotten. The thousands of euros he had spent on the plane tickets: all a trifle for this spectacle in the sky. He put his head back even further in fascination. And he fell backwards onto the ground.

Maldita sea, Miguel thought. He must have fainted a few seconds after falling to the ground. He held the back of his head. That could be a nasty bump on the head… His sunglasses had fallen off his face… He looked at the sun with a wink. Yes, you could still see the shadow of the moon in front of the sun. And? What was so special about it? It got dark every evening. Today it was also noon. Miserable astronomy crap… Even his kunkels had all gone out to a hill outside the village… He didn't care.

His ball had rolled a few meters further. Miguel took it and practiced shooting baskets. By the time his buddies got back before that nerd thing, he was in shape. And then he would beat the losers. Like every time. Miguel was simply the basketball star of his village. And he was happy when all the strangers had finally left and things were quiet again.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #race change #ai image

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uzumaki-rebellion · 1 month ago

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youtube

"All of y'all can eat this up

Like black folk at the cook out

Thick and pretty from the South

Money chasing, fuck the clout (c'mon, c'mon)

Settle down children

Before I bring my paddle out"

Tank & Big Freedia – "Big"

Mercy kept a tab running at the final bar hop of the night.

Celeste and her girlfriends met up with her other friend Avis who worked at the Bourbon Orleans Bar. Avis paid for a round of drinks at her bar using an employee discount before they strolled down Bourbon Street to gawk at tourists, especially men from out of town.

Every bar had a huckster blowing whistles or giving out free jello shots to entice patrons inside their establishments. They sipped from purple bedazzled plastic cups and danced in a few clubs until the music turned too white or too eighties for their enjoyment. The city catered to tourists, and some places preferred a sea of white faces over darker ones. A few spots played good Hip Hop, but they were the most packed and hard to get into because they reached capacity fast and bouncers had to limit the number of people entering. Celeste already observed enough puking and urinating in the street to call it a night.

Sweat soaked her back and thighs inside the butterscotch-yellow halter dress she sewed herself. But her ass still looked magnificent in it, and so did her breasts, which flashed just enough cleavage to appear sultry and not too sleazy. She jiggled and bounced in all the right places as she strolled in her sexy heels, and men followed her like the siren she was down Bourbon Street.

They came across a little hole-in-the-wall with a decent D.J. and partied on tequila and dark rum concoctions. Celeste spoke to Carl, a blonde cutie from Vegas who tried to convince her to visit Nevada instead of California for a good-time getaway. She nursed a rum punch and glanced at her friends dancing with guys that tickled their fancy. Carl was loud and kept touching her hair. He tugged on an inch-thick loc to keep her attention on his pink-flushed face. In her inebriated state, she regretted allowing him to touch her hair earlier after he admired how gorgeous it looked framing her oval face, especially her dark eyes.

"You're the most beautiful woman in here, and your hair is like Medusa's…but a sexy Medusa," he slurred in her ear.

His buddy Jacob leaned in with breath reeking of whiskey.

"You and your friends should come hang out at our hotel," Jacob said.

"No thanks, we have to get going pretty soon," Celeste said.

She gulped down the remains of her drink and patiently waited for her friends to re-join her at the bar. The bass thumped, vibrating the floor, walls, and her teeth. She bobbed her head in appreciation. A New Orleans bounce mix blasted through the speakers, and most of the female patrons rushed the tiny dance floor to throw ass in a circle. Plenty of men followed. People out on the street wandered in, attracted by the frenzy of tits jumping in revealing tops and all the booty shaking.

Celeste attempted to wander over to the dance floor to shake a little something with her friends.

"Hey sweetheart…where ya going?" Carl crooned in her ear. He scooped his arm around her waist and led her back toward the bar.

"I'm going to dance with my girls," she said, annoyed that she even had to say that.

"Let's ditch this place and get some air," Jacob suggested.

"Nah, I'm good."

Both men flanked her and tried coaxing her to go outside where the throng of tourists would swallow them up. Laughter and screeches of excitement from revelers went right over her head. The men blocked her view of the dance floor and became more handsy, touching her arm and waist, making every attempt to convince Celeste to bail on her friends.

"You're good, sweetheart. Relax," Carl said. "We're having fun and you could enjoy yourself outside with us. It's too hot in here…hey…buddy, watch where you're going."

Celeste had lunged forward to leave and slammed smack into a solid wall of flesh. She lifted her head to see who the body made of bricks belonged to and a pair of familiar light eyes peered down at her.

"Duchess," the strange marine said.

His commanding bayou baritone electrified her senses. She momentarily forgot how to speak. The marine glanced at Carl and Jacob.

"I got this fellas," he said.

"Step off," Carl said, the liquor making his tinny voice grate on her ears. He placed a hand on the marine's chest and attempted to shove him away. The marine gripped Carl's hand, jerked his arm behind his back, and shoved his midsection up against the bar.

Jacob grabbed on the marine's shirt and those blazing light eyes cut him with a terse, silent warning. Carl's buddy froze in place with a frightened expression.

"This is my girlfriend. She doesn't leave with anyone except me," the marine said.

He shoved Carl to the side and dared both men to escalate the situation. Celeste watched the new-to-her boyfriend crack his knuckles and flex prominent pecs encased in the ultra-soft gray t-shirt molded around his chest.

The tension ratcheted up when three more of Carl's male friends circled behind the marine. Music cocooned Celeste in a chaotic wall of sound. The marine turned his head to look at his opps and she could've sworn his voice was inside her head.

"Where are your friends?"

Could she be imagining he was saying those words? His eyes darted about, sizing up the other men, but his deep probing tone was clearly inside her mind. Fuck it. She answered back through her thoughts.

"They're dancing. I was chilling at the bar and waiting to leave…"

The marine spun around and blocked her body with his own. He threw two punches, knocking two men on their asses. Celeste threw her hands over her mouth.

"Don't be scared, this is light work," the marine's voice soothed in her mind.

Two bouncers finally pushed through the crowd and yoked up Carl and company. Celeste stared at the back of the marine's head, admiring how nice his haircut looked. There were subtle waves and she imagined him brushing his hair while sitting in her house.

"What's your name?" she asked in her mind with a dreamy, slow utterance.

"Terry."

"Nice to meet you boyfriend, Terry," Celeste said out loud.

The bouncers escorted the dudebro brigade outside. Terry guided Celeste to a small side patio. Her friends jostled their way past onlookers and joined her. Terry hovered nearby.

"What happened, Duchess?" Nae Nae asked.

"Just some losers tryna start shit," she said. "This is my new boyfriend, Terry," Celeste said.

She started giggling at her friend's puzzled expressions and touched Terry's arm.

"I'm joking. This is Terry. He made those guys stop harassing me."

A flurry of new club-goers brushed past them. She followed Mercy and Avis down the steps leading to the street and lost track of Terry. There were too many people entering and exiting and he disappeared in the confusion.

Her group sashayed to another club that was queer-friendly and met up with her male cousin Micah, whose make-up and sexiness rivaled her own. They hugged, and he looked her up and down, appreciating her come-hither style.

"We ain't seen you out in these streets for a minute, cuz. Where you been?" Micah asked.

"Working," Celeste said.

"Bayyy-buh, everybody works. That ain't no good excuse."

Micah's mixed crew of men and women invited Celeste and her friends to hang out until the bar closed. She surveyed their surroundings and spotted Terry.

He stood on a festive corner near a street musician playing white plastic buckets with sticks. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be sniffing the air, taking in the scent of the lively night. Her friends continued chatting it up and smoking outside. Terry glanced over at Celeste. She held up a hand and beckoned him to come back to her. He accepted the invitation and moved toward her with the smoothest gait she'd ever seen on a man with his build. Throngs of people partied in the clogged street with bright lights and color everywhere, however, they dulled and faded away as if someone turned down the contrast, stripping away all the pigment and vibrancy outside of Terry's protracted movement toward her. As he closed the distance between them with surreal fluidity, she developed a profound tunnel vision. Only he existed.

A woozy sensation cascaded over Celeste as Terry's stride appeared to slow down even further. His eyes locked onto her gaze. The beating of her heart and the sound of her expectant breathing amplified in her ear. Like the gradual winding down of a clock, the diminishing beats of her heart made her believe she would die from his preternatural beauty.

Let me in.

His voice crept into her mind further. Seductive. Urgent.

I must have you, Celeste.

Please.

Let me in.

Closer…closer…his stride dreamlike, lulling her into a hypnotic state. She tilted her head as if she needed a perception shift to rationalize the odd sensation crawling over her skin. The world she wanted to escape from because of Freddie slipped away and she gleaned from Terry's approach that it was meant to happen. Freddie had to go because Terry was coming for her, and this was a good thing. The new nature of things. The correct order of the world she wanted for so long. Yes, God.

Here he comes.

Like a big bad wolf sniffing for Little Red Riding Hood. But this Little Red from the Hood of Treme desired the wily beast. Craved him.

"Hello again," he said.

All of her companions stared at his face like they had never encountered anything more beautiful in their lives either. The charisma and sex appeal dripped off of that man like rainwater before a hurricane. He was almost too good-looking to be true. Scary even.

It was his eyes.

Their greenish-amber mixture of colors hooked into everyone near him, turning them defenseless and weak like unguarded lambs. Celeste also thought it was because he barely blinked when he spoke. The magnetism was overwhelmingly infectious. Even Micah became mesmerized by his looks, stopping to stare at him closely to see if he was even real.

"Are you out here by yourself? You were with Travis and 'nem earlier at the Backstreet Bar."

"They're still pub crawling. I wanted to walk around a bit. I don't really drink but I like to sightsee."

Celeste became lost in his dusky amber skin and neatly trimmed goatee. Struck by how comfortable he made her feel, she moved closer to him. Those wide shoulders and height gave such a presence of manliness that she almost wanted to lay her head on his shoulder and feel those strong military arms around her waist. He definitely was picking up on what she was putting down with her attraction to him. She liked that he kept his gaze on her face and not on the lush cleavage she openly displayed. The contrast of the yellow coloring of her dress against the bronzed brown of her skin had her looking like a Nubian Goddess stepping straight out of the Sudan to slum with mere mortals. The thick cascade of her serpentine locs distracted him and they broke direct eye contact.

"I better catch up with them," Terry said. "Have a good rest of the night."

"Thanks for handling those jerks," she called out to his back.

Celeste stepped forward to go after him, but Micah grabbed her arm.

"Uh uh…no ma'am. Leave that one alone."

"Why? He's fine as hell and unattached."

Micah's unwelcoming expression gave Celeste pause.

"Trust me on this one. That's the kind you don't fuck with."

"What kind is that?"

Micah glanced at the mass of overzealous bodies searching for a good time. Terry was long gone.

"The dangerous kind, girl. Sinful…unholy."

She thought he was joking. The tense frown lines on his forehead said otherwise. He snapped out of the dour affect he presented and popped his fingers to the up-tempo music blasting from inside the club. It was like watching someone wake out of a trance.

Chapter 4 HERE.

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