#and on Texan soil of all places

[foreverfearlessred]

just saw the news that Haas have overtaken VCARB in the constructors standings, life truly is a joyous experience x

[theonemeathead]

Spy x Reader, "Je T'aime"

pls forgive me, i dont speak french. spy x reader fluff :3 no tws, tried to keep it gender neutral. enjoy!

Dinnertime on base was always unpredictable. Getting everyone to stay in one place was a challenge enough on its own, but getting everyone in one place to sit down and enjoy each others' presence for half an hour? Now that was nearly impossible; Keyword nearly.

It was Engineer's turn to cook tonight, which was always a pleasure. Even Sniper lurked around whenever the Texan was in the kitchen. He had a tendency to make hearty, filling foods and you can't go wrong with a good ol' fashioned steak dinner. This was the first time in months all of you were in one place, bodies starved after a relentless fight on the battlefield. All of you, but a certain Frenchman.

You see, Spy had an expensive palate...or that's what he called it. You would call it being picky. Spy tended to think highly of himself, albeit a bit conceded at times, especially when it came to cuisine. Why would he soil his 'temple of a body' with fatty, grease-filled American food? As if fancy imported wine and cigarettes were any better. But, sometimes he did make an appearance, sparing chatter here and there.

It was a known fact that whenever he 'graced the team with his presence', it was because you had asked for him, specifically. Even if he hated to admit it, he had a certain soft spot for you in that shriveled heart of his. And no matter how hard he tried to deny it, how hard he tried to twist that adoration into hate, it always crept back, even stronger than before. He was forever thankful that his balaclava hid enough of his face to seal away the light flush that seemed to permeate his cheeks whenever you were around.

Oh, but it pissed him off to no end, the affect you had on him. He was a heartbreaker! He was supposed to be the charmer, not the one being charmed! How dare you make someone as esteemed as him fantasize about you? How dare you make him oggle at you, desire you in such a way it would make the Devil blush?

So, when you had asked—No, begged—Spy to join the table tonight, how could he possibly resist? Now, here he was, wishing to be anywhere but eating dinner with his half-wit colleagues. He prodded his fork at the roasted potatoes, sliding the root vegetable around the plate in a pool of oil and butter. His stomach churned at the idea of digesting something so processed. You, however, were the opposite. You were cheery, thankful to be consuming something so warm and flavorful. You had began conversing with the Engineer, praising his skills in the kitchen. A seed of jealousy had began rooting itself in Spy's stomach. You never praised him when it was his turn to cook. He envied the Texan and the attention he seemed to be getting from you.

And then it happened.

"Aw, shucks, darlin'. Maybe you could come on back to the workshop with me and I could teach you a thing or two about cookin'."

The fork that was once in Spy's hand had clattered to the ground. The chilling sound of the metal hitting the linoleum floor rang loud enough to silence whatever conversations were occurring between anyone else at the table. Spy's fists tightened into a ball, trembling slightly as he tried to compose himself. There was an obvious tension in the air, something you were sure you all could feel. Spy stood up, adjusting the collar of his suit slightly before clearing his throat. That seed of jealousy had blossomed into something vile, something ugly. Why didn't you praise him like that? Why didn't you blush and giggle when he spoke to you? What was so much better about that damn toymaker?

"If you'll excuse me," he broke the silence, almost softly, his accent thicker than usual. His footsteps receeded, heels clicking as he grew distant. Glances quietly exchanged amongst yourselves. You all knew Spy to be moody, almost angsty, at times, but not once had he ever acted out like this before. You took the napkin, wiping your mouth and standing up to follow him.

"I'll go check on him," your words came out muffled, still chewing on a piece of chewy meat. You scrambled to your feet, taking off after the grumpy espineer. You assumed he had returned to his smoking room, an offshoot area where he went to clear his thoughts. The red, mahogany doors were a stark contrast to the rest of the metallic facility. Base sure didn't look as homey as it felt, sometimes. Timidly, you raised your fist... yet, you still hesitated. Maybe it was best to leave him be? Nah, that wasn't like you.

Taking a deep breath, you rapped your knuckles against the door. A pause. Persistent, you decided to continue, pushing the door open. The creaking of the worn-down screws rang out as the only noise, followed by the sound of your feet padding against the floorboards. You had never actually been inside of Spy's smoking room, but you'd caught glimpses before. Now, here you were. You were met with a rather cinematic scene; two royal red plush armchairs sat facing a crackling fireplace, a glass of rum on the rocks sweating onto a cork coaster atop a tiny side table, an expensive looking ceramic ashtray, and a French magazine, neighboring it. You knew Spy prided himself on this room, the entirety of it. He had forced Miss Pauling's hand into making sure it was implemented, after all.

You couldn't see the Frenchman himself, but you could see a cloud of smoke beginning to perfume the air around one of the expensive seats. You approached, eyes trailing as the grey smoke contortioned itself amidst the atmosphere. As you neared, you noticed a piece of fabric neatly draped across one of the armrests. It didn't occur to you it was his silk balaclava until you got close enough that the smell of his expensive cherry cigarettes began to fuzz your brain. Everything about Spy screamed luxurious, even the scent of his imported tobacco.

"I did not say you could come in." You froze. It was ignorant to assume he wasn't aware of your presence, he was trained to do this sort of thing. This was a bad idea, you thought. Every instinct you had was telling you to run. You were intruding. Spy was in his safe space, unmasked, with his back turned to you. Even for as long as you'd known Spy, you'd never seen his face. You never even dared to ask, in fear it would scare him off. You knew how he was quick to flee if he felt threatened.

"Spy, I—"

"If you were anyone else, I'd have already sent you back to Respawn."

You trembled slightly. You knew he wasn't joking, Spy didn't joke. Although given the gift of being able to come back from the dead, it didn't change the fact that it hurt, or the panic that arises when you're in that in between zone of not-quite-dead, not-quite-alive. No matter how many times you'd respawned, it was still a less than ideal fate. The shuffling of fabric made your eyes widen. Suddenly, you were no longer talking to the back of a fancy lounge, but you were face-to-face with a stranger now.

But, he wasn't a stranger. He talked like Spy, he sounded like Spy, he was Spy. Your mouth hung agape, slightly. He was still wearing that damn suit and tie, there was never a day that passed that he wasn't dressed to the nines. His hair was a dark shade of brown, almost black, and lazily slicked back. Grey began to sprout from his roots, trailing back and sprinkling into his wavy hair. He looked much older without the mask, faint smile lines and forehead wrinkles present. His eyes drooped ever so slightly, soft purple bags hung under them. His cheekbones were high and defined, his scowl taking a seemingly permanent residence on his face. And although he was clean shaven, he still had the faintest hint of a 5 o'clock shadow.

"Sacre bleu, I wish I knew how to hate you. You make my job substantially harder, and you don't even do anything!" He huffed, taking another drag from his cigarette. He looked down his nose at you, running a gloved hand through his hair. "You don't even do anything, and it drives me crazy, chérie."

You stood, silent. He shook his head, clearly annoyed by how he felt about you. You were a distraction, a constant fog in his mind. Hadn't he already learned his lesson 23 years ago to never fall in love? It always ends up bad for him, he always ended up getting cold feet, he always ended up leaving. He couldn't do that to you, he couldn't hurt you.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, Spy. I thought we were friends?" His expression dropped. 'Friends'? Why would you ever befriend someone like him, a two-timing, backstabbing snake? He sighed, his shoulders dropping as his cold blue eyes met yours. Here he was, his heart on his sleeve, for you; Only for you.

"That is the problem! We are friends! Just friends! Nothing more." He paused, huffing as he scanned your features. "I have spent many lonely nights, dreaming of you, mon cœur. Wishing you were next to me, wishing for nothing more than to feel your beating heart next to mine. I may regret saying this, but je t'aime."

Your jaw went slack, falling open at his words. He walked away, now standing, disheveled, over his mini bar, pouring himself yet another glass of liquor. You saddled up behind him, hearing him mutter various swears in that romantic language you never seemed to understand. Unsure what to do, you placed a small hand on his bicep, squeezing reassuringly. Spy stopped in his tracks. Although you'd been on base for a few years now, not once had you reached out and touched him. He felt something he hadn't felt in decades, something boyish and unfamiliar. A small red dusted across his pale cheeks, running across the bridge of his nose. He hesitated to look down at you, afraid he wouldn't be able to keep himself steady if he met your gaze.

"I love you too, Spy."

You were immediately enveloped in a tight embrace. For so long, he had wanted to hold you, to feel your warm, soft skin against his. He had to crouch slightly, his knees popping as he buried his scraggy face into the crook of your neck. The scent of cologne and aftershave was strong, coupled with that slight cherry scent yet again. Hesitantly, you hooked your arms around him. You were nervous, afraid to ruin or tarnish his expensive pin-striped suit. The last thing you wanted was to sent him into a tizzy about his attire. When Spy had pulled away, he stood up straight and fixed his tie. He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed by his lack of composure.

"Pardon me for how I stormed off earlier. I suppose I couldn't bear to see how that illiterate laborer flirted with you."

"You were jealous of Engineer?"

"...Moving along. Shall we return to the table, mon amour?" He held his arm out for you to latch yourself around. Always such a gentleman.

"We shall."

[http-paprika]

Bite the Hand / Phillip Graves

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⋆★⋆ part five - sun, moon, sky ⋆★⋆ masterlist ⋆★⋆ previous ⋆★⋆ next ⋆★⋆

summary with her mind all over the place, frost goes for a run to free herself, only to come across the source of her problems.

werewolf!au / pairing phillip graves x female!reader / callsign frost / wc 1995 / warning swearing

notes so, my family has covid again which means i have no work and can focus on writing. hopefully I'll be able to write the next chapters before i go back to work. and i was losing my ever-loving mind writing this, listening to the same song on repeat to capture this chapter.

It began in her mouth, the constant uncomfortable dryness and a thirst that no amount of water could quench. She was unwilling to admit that her scent was laced with something sweet, a glow in her face, and the ache in her bones whenever she passed Graves. Like she was losing her mind, she sat hunched over her desk, face buried in her calloused hands. 

“Frost?” Lurch stood in front of her desk, staring down at her like she was some bizarre alien creature who’d fallen out of the sky. Her teammates had begun to pick up on her erratic behavior, once or twice she’d heard Dipaolo telling Vance he was glad to be born a man. Not that being a man would’ve saved her from her distress. It was a trouble that plagued many, she was just the unfortunate soul to be struck down then.

“Maybe you should get out, go for a run, go hunt. You’re acting like a caged animal. Your reports have been looking like shit.” To prove his point, he dropped the stack of papers in front of her, Frost was embarrassed by the highlighted passages. It was sloppy and humiliating to read, below her standard. “I’d hate to bring this up to the Commander but if this is going to continue to be a problem, I will.” 

“No. No. It won’t be a problem.” She quickly argued, standing out of her seat and yanking up her jacket. The early cold of winter had surprised her that morning, a welcomed relief from the unbearable Texan heat. “I’ll be back in the morning.” 

Hurried out of the office, she returned to her room and changed into running clothes, something that Frost wouldn’t mind if it got soiled or stained. She could only pray her run would be long and tiresome enough, there was a hope that it would stop the endless loop of thinking about him. As her hands slid over her body, pulling off her uniform, she couldn’t help but imagine the callouses of his hands replacing hers, a warm breath against her ears. 

Her eyes snapped open, and her own breath caught in her lungs. He’d be the death of her, and Graves would never know. 

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The smell of juniper and pine trees filled her nostrils as she finally stopped running, having gone to the northern border of the Shadow Company’s hunting grounds. Her chest rose and fell as she stared at the rapid river that divided her land from uncertainty. Frost often wondered who hunted in the lands beyond, and how far she could run without being shot at or entering enemy wolf territory. 

Below her skin, her muscles tightened and ached as she dropped to the edge of the river, rocks digging into her knees as she stuck her hands into the cold current. The water tumbled over rocks, and the crickets sang in her ears as the sun dipped further below the pines. Frost would need to plan for the evening, she’d need to eat before tempting to run the miles back to the base. But hunting alone had little appeal, and the exhaustion in her bones dissuaded her from shifting. 

She wondered what it would be like to let the rapids take her, if it would drag her south to the sea. If she could disappear like a fossil in the rock beds below the currents. Ancient fossils didn’t have to deal with the pain she felt, the tug in her heart. He was the wrong person, and more importantly, Frost was the wrong girl. It was already luck that had allowed her to cross his path, to speak to him and listen. Then there was the unspoken, fear and experience that had pushed her back into a cage. Venomous words that made her hate herself more than her father ever had. 

Frost wouldn’t offer that to Graves, he was already gracious enough as it was. But it didn’t stop her from closing her eyes, fantasizing about showing him every version of herself. Letting Graves take her in his arms, telling her the past didn’t matter.

But she knew better. 

“Frost?” She wondered if she had willed him into existence as he stepped towards the river, the hunting rifle slung over his shoulders again. The wind turned in her direction, allowing her to breathe in his smell and let out a contented sigh. “You’re out far, y’know that?” 

“Lost track of where I was running, sorry.” She said, quickly standing and trying to dust the dirt off her skin. Ever so slightly embarrassed by her appearance in front of him. Graves had a concerned look on his face as he set the rifle down, an expression she’d never seen that made her breathing hitched. 

“Lerch told me you’ve been acting strange. I’m worried about you, is everything alright?” He asked, closing the gap between them until he was standing right in front of her. One of his gloved hands comes up to her face, brushing a few hairs and sweat away with a slow motion. “We’ve moved past keep secrets, you can trust me with anything.” 

“There’s a reason they’re secrets, Graves. They’re meant to be hidden.” She said, frowning and wondering if he could feel how hot her skin was or hear the way her heart pounded against her thick ribs. Frost blinks rapidly, trying to keep unforeseen tears from falling. He wasn’t supposed to see her like that, no one was. Staying hidden with her feelings and past meant staying safe. 

“Frost, you could tell me you murdered a man and I’d help you dispose of the body. I’m not one to judge.” How familiar his words were to her, like the past was repeating itself just with a different man. A different face, a different heart, a different ending. His hand stayed on her face, brushing the hot tears from her cheeks as he waited, ever so patient.

“I can’t.” She told him, Frost hated to cry in front of anyone. A lesson engrained in her mind from a young age, a lesson she couldn’t easily forget. And crying in front of Graves felt pathetic, it didn’t matter if he was understanding. Didn’t matter how many promises he made to her and her brothers that they were safe in his company. Frost couldn’t. 

“Yes, you can.” 

“I–” She turned her gaze up to the sky which was a watercolor of violet, orange, and blue as it attempted to hold onto the sun. The knife in her heart twisted further, splitting her in two. All that flooded her mind were broken promises, gnashing teeth, and apologizing over and over again for feelings and things she couldn’t control. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to tell you the truth.” 

Graves’ hand dropped from her face, down her shoulders, and arms, and picked up her hands. The leather rubbed against her skin, his thumb brushed over a set of knuckles. It was so caring and gentle that it made Frost want to scream. 

“Come on, let’s not stay out. ‘Bout to be a new moon, let’s go into the light.” Graves suggested, still holding onto a hand, another picking back up the rifle before he turned and led her along the riverbank. Soon, they reached a swallow crossing, and she followed him up a rocky path. In the distance through the trees, lights blinked at her in a warm greeting. The trees split apart into a small clearing where an a-frame house stood, and a truck with a Shadow Company bump sticker was parked in front on a gravel drive that stretched back into the trees. 

He’d taken her to his home. “Most the boys don’t even know this is where I live. Like to keep it that way, quiet, private.” Graves said to her as he unlocked the house, letting her into the warm interior. 

“So I’m special?” Frost asked, a bit of humor in her question as Graves put the rifle up in a cabinet before shedding his gloves and boots. 

“Very.” Her heart almost combusted as he flashed a wink at her before walking through the home, moving to the kitchen. “Make yourself at home, if you break something, I will make you buy it.”

Frost shakes her head, taking off her stained and ragged sneakers and trying to force herself to loosen up. The house wasn’t what she expected, he kept a large collection of vinyls, and his shelves her lined with books, pictures, and awards from his long life. But somehow, it made sense to her, reminding her of his cluttered office. 

“Why me?” She asked suddenly, turning to look at him in the kitchen as he poured himself a glass of bourbon. “What makes me so special? I’m not a soldier who got the medals for being outstanding, was never the top of my class, and I’m nothing to write home about here either. I just don’t understand what someone who recruits some of the most ruthless and talented soldiers and mercenaries there are sees in me.” 

“Well, it’s clear we don’t see each other the same way at all. Because you put me up on a podium I shouldn’t be on Frost.” Graves responded hesitantly, looking up at her from the crystal glass. The light danced in his eyes, his brows knit together as he looked at her. A look of a man who was giving her his full attention. “And affairs of the heart have never been logical.” 

She could’ve fallen apart right there, hearing the words leave his mouth felt wrong, unnatural. It shouldn’t be happening. Frost’s feelings weren’t supposed to be returned, they were supposed to fizzle away, staying hidden from sight. His admittance was dangerous, how easily it could destroy her, destroy the new life she’d built at the Shadow Company. Graves called out her name, her real name, which yanked her attention back to him.

“You can’t mean that,” Frost stated, backing away as Graves stepped around the counter to her. She wondered if she could find her way back to the Shadow Company base from his home. Maybe it would be better if she got lost in the woods instead, wandering like a forsaken beast. It would be more bearable than letting herself completely fall. 

“What are you so scared of, Frost?” He kept his distance, waiting until she was ready to let him in. There was a patience in his tone, something so gentle about the way he spoke that made her knees want to buckle. 

“Everything that I’ve lost and can lose again.” She admitted, gripping the wooden countertops. Her breathing had become uneven again, the weight in the air was crushing. Frost could only hope he’d throw her out in the cold, she thought she’d die if he continued to look at her like she was sun shining after a long winter. 

“I can’t change your past, but I can shape the future, and I don’t want to hurt you. You deserve everything you want, everything you crave, and I want to give it to you.” Graves was so close to her, but she was the one to reach out now. Resting a hand against his chest, she felt the rhythmic thrum of his heart. The smell of his skin was intoxicating, causing her to swallow hard. He placed his hand on top of hers, the other settling on her waist. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” 

Before she can think or speak, his mouth is on hers. Capturing her in an embrace as her teeth catch on his lower lip. He surrounded her, consuming her senses as she continued to hold onto him desperately and kiss him. The lingering taste of bourbon on his tongue, the sweet smell of pine needles radiating from his skin, and the warmth of his hands keeping her body flush against his.

Frost could’ve died happily there.

taglist (open) @iamcautiouslyoptimistic @delusionally-loveless-by-choice @bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus @anna-banana27 @unicorngirly1

[enrosadiraanisaaa]

Within Session .Part Four.

Hey there cuties, glad to finally post another part of Within Session! This fanfic consist of Yandere!Leon Kennedy. I intend for this fic to progressively become disturbing and fucked up with each chapter. While the first few chapters will be tamed, expect the following in this series:

~Stalking, Kidnapping, Forced Breeding, Degradation, NonCon, Gang Banging, Forced Pregnancy, Somnophilia, Blackmail, Manipulation, Abuse, Pet Names, Obsessive Behavior (Duh), Torture, Constraints, Mentions of Blood & Gore, Mental Degradation, Toxic Relationship, Sexual Abuse, Masturbation, Drugged & Drunk Sex, Loss of Virginity, Forced Penetration…

Also you will be retconned (Too bad 😏): Female Reader, 24 Years old and from Texas 💝

This story was purely written with RE 4 (Remake) Leon in mind. So no puppy dog Leon from RE2 or DILF Leon from later games & movies. The story takes place several months after the events of RE4. Yay, you’re in 2004!

I plan to make this series long and fleshed out, but I promise what you want will hit you like a train~🚂

This chapter does not contain any 🔞 material. This story will contain +18 content (NSFW) in the near future 🔞 If you’re a minor, please go read a real book or something, don’t cry to me when your mom finds your shit.  This story will eventually hit that point so don’t set yourself up.

Summary

As an on sight therapist for STRATCOM in Nebraska, you’re tasked with providing quality therapy for US military personnel and government agents. After working at the headquarters for 6 months, Hunnigan recommends you to a notable government agent, Leon Kennedy, who is in need of therapy. After a number of sessions with you, Leon notices a substantial stability in his sanity yet is threatened when you are offered a position back home, closer to your family and friends. Your choice doesn’t sit well with one particular client, who can’t fathom you out of your role as his therapist. Leon has found a means of keeping his precious therapist and realizes you are the key to his permanent solace. You were obviously destined to be his in some form. Why dream of him letting you go?

A\N: I was heavily inspired by Satoshi Kon’s Perfect Blue 💙, ExploreVenus’s Something Permanent and Guardian Angel by NexysWorld. We're getting closer to the nitty gritty of the story. Hope y'all like this bit slice of life before shit gets fucked up. Expect the next part to be out around in two weeks.

Hope y'all enjoy the forth part! More to come 💝~ Anisssa أنيسة

Here is Part One , Part Two, and Part Three of Within Session

Cherish These Moments

Silence soon settled into the office when Leon departed out of the room after the conclusion of his session. Typically, the end of the day consists of reflecting on each session into notes. These notes along with legal documentations and insurance sheets are submitted to your supervisor every day. Now alone in the office, you were seated at your desk, hastily typing on the keyboard while staring at the computer screen to complete these synopsis to turn in so you can leave for home. It was tedious work after consulting a number of clients throughout the day, which compelled you to finish these tasks immediately following the last client. As much as you loved your job, required work tasks such as these were mundane and annoying.  

       At this time, you were well aware the sky was already night outside due to it being the middle of winter. The drive home was always more extensive than you would like to admit due to the snow that has accumulated over the roads, and as a Texan, you were not well versed in driving in these conditions. People back home would swear up and down hell froze over if an inch of snow touched Texas soil, but snow was an ordinary occurrence in the Midwest, especially in Omaha, Nebraska. 

Eventually, you complete all the necessary notes after 40 minutes and send them through an encrypted email to your supervisor. A groan escapes your lips as you stretch up from your desk chair, standing after being seated for most of the day. With the documents and signature sheets in one hand, you turn to your chair to pull off your oversized coat from the back of your chair.

      “Fucking finally, I’m out this bitch,”You mutter in a whisper to yourself, stepping out the office and turning to lock the door. In tip-toed steps to quiet the clacks of your heels in the hallway, you reach a few doors down to slide in the documents and signature sheets in a plastic wall file holder. Now, walking in the opposite direction, you head towards the entrance of the building. While the steps of your heels echoed, you swung the oversized wool trench coat around the back of your body to stuff your arms in the sleeves. At the sight of your own red blazer and form fitting skirt, an involuntary huff resonates from within as you recall Leon’s stare upon your outfit, his sly remark and odd begrudging attitude when he first notices your attire.

     “Dude’s weird…”

          You simply shrug, tightening the sash to keep your oversize coat wrapped around your body as you brace to trudge cautiously in this godforsaken weather. Upon opening the entrance door of the building, the penetrating cold immediately stings your skin. Among the rows of cars in the parking lot of the building, you instantly locate your car that was slightly covered in flurries. Your baby- a cherry colored 1986 Nissan 300zx with turbo and T-tops that was bestowed to you as a parting gift from your father. This car was a part of your life since childhood, the memories of riding in the passenger seat while the t-tops were off impeded as staple moments you cherished. 

         Around the parked cars of the parking lot, you scurry towards your car, nearly slipping the process. Once inside your car, you turn the ignition on with the turn of your key, allowing the car to warm up. Thoughts of Leon invade your mind once more as you rest back on the driver's seat. During the session, you notice his attempted subtle glances and him anatomizing your figure. While Leon was fairly attractive, you hope this was not a recurring thing in future sessions, or he might have to be referred to another therapist. Violating boundaries and etiquette as a therapist could cost your career, and all the endeavors you endured in the past would be in vain for a man. ‘Not fucking worth it.’

      With that last thought, you shift the gear into drive, steering the car cautiously out the parking lot of the USSTRATCOM headquarters to proceed home. Through desolate roads, you navigate in ceaseless fall of sleet during nighttime, ultimately arriving an hour later in front of an old Victorian house. Once your car is parked on the side of the street, you venture towards the entrance of the house from your car. 

     The Victorian house was renovated into two apartments, the upstairs and downstairs into their own sections. Along with a roommate, you rented the upstairs section of the house that consisted of two bedrooms, one bathroom, a small living room and kitchen. 

      With your belongings in hand, you unlock the door to your upstairs apartment, making your entrance known to your roommate. 

       “Daddy’s home!”You holler upon opening the front door in amusement. 

     From the kitchen, a head peeped out to reveal your roommate, a 19 year old Mexican kid from California, Mateo. At this point of living six months with him, he became like a little brother to you, although you never understood why a profound kid like him lived in this city. 

      His caramel colored eyes peered from behind the wall, narrowing at you across the room before he visibly rolled his eyes. Mateo steps from the kitchen, clearly shaking his head at you as he glances disappointedly at your attire,”Ay pendeja, there you again, wearing a skirt in the middle of winter…” he exhales, walking towards you at the entrance. 

      In response to him, you shut the front door with a sly grin, loosening the sash of your wool trench coat to further reveal your attire. “Hey! I already had a new client today ogle at my outfit today! I don’t need you to say something…” You protest, walking past Mateo to set your belongings down on the couch in the living room. 

     A snicker can be heard from Mateo as he strides by your side,”Oh, they assigned you a new client today? And they were looking at your outfit?”He questions, crossing his arms.

     You nod, sighing in the process,”Yeah, they assigned a new client today on short notice, but I don't mind having new cases. Just this new client… he kept glancing at me during the session with this certain gaze. I don’t want to already form an impression based on the first intake session of a client, but I don’t know. And my friend who is a colleague of his recommended me…”

       While Mateo was intrigued by this revelation, he raised his eyebrows at you,”Oh, well is he cute?”He asks with a grin on his face, obviously to fuck with you.

       There was a momentary pause from you as you huff in annoyance,”Well yes, he is extremely cute…but I don’t want to think about a client in that way,” You continue, providing a playful glare to the brunet beside you. 

        “What’s his name?” Mateo inquires again, resulting in your eyes to narrow at him in suspicion. 

         “Leon,”You simply answer, unsure where he was going with this conversation. 

         “Oh shit, his name sounds hot. What does he look like?” He chuckles with a cunning smile. 

           A perplexed expression forms on your face, shaking your head to his inquiry about your attractive client. At this moment, you kick off your heels before you plunge onto the couch despite wearing your work attire, allowing the cushions of the couch to engulf your body into a state of ease. “Mateo… I was trying to describe my day at work to you, not for you to devise a plan to fuck my client. I know you, Mateo. The dude seems broken enough,”You relent, peering at Mateo from the couch. 

      From Mateo, an audible gasp escapes his mouth followed by a guilty grin,”Me? I would never… Anyways… I have something you might like but you wanna come home all snarky.”

      You instantly prop yourself on your elbows while laying back on the couch,”Aww, you got me something? Show me!” You demand, watching Mateo briefly leave the side of the couch before returning by your side to gently smack your face with a plastic cover. As stunned as you were, your eyesight instantly unblurs to reveal the hard case cover for Halo 2, directly in your face.

       With a drop of your mouth, you direct your attention up to Mateo as he stands beside you while you lay the couch,”No fucking way, you bought me the new Halo?”

     Mateo retracts the game case from your face while he smiles proudly at your reaction,”Yes! I was thinking we would invite the guys over after work on Friday for a little party… Do you have anything planned for Friday night?” He asks curiously. 

      A seething sound emits from your mouth as you recall plans for Friday night,”Damn, I promised Hunnigan I’d join her for some late night bingo,” You inform Mateo, forming a pout on your lips.

To your answer, Mateo merely shrugs while waving the game case with his hand as if he was enticing you,”It’s your call, or you can get your little bingo dauber and bet money you will no doubt lose,” He expresses with smugness. 

       You pout, contemplating how you will spend your Friday night,”But I want to spend time with my girl, Hunnigan… Fine, I will reschedule with her for a dinner date or something…Only because I want to beat ass in that game!”You huff, raising yourself from the cushions of the couch to sit up.

        By leaning over the other side of the couch, your hand reaches inside your purse to pull out a pink Motorola flip phone. Upon flipping the phone open, you immediately press buttons to dial the phone number of Hunnigan. Several rings pass until you hear a familiar feminine voice,”Hey, are you okay?” Her voice responds. A guilty sensation blooms in your chest, you were timid to cancel plans with her. Seconds pass by, you seem to have paused longer than you should.

       “Are you calling about Leon? Did the session go okay with him?” Hunnigan then asks on her end, her voice consisting of a slight concern.

        “Ah no, it’s not about that. Something actually came up on Friday… I was wondering if I can join you for bingo another time…” You finally answer in a nervous tone.

       A light giggle can be heard through the phone,”It’s fine, we can schedule another bingo date some other time.”

        You sigh in relief, clutching the cell phone to your ear,”Sweet, maybe a dinner date in the city? It’ll be my treat…”

      “Definitely…Well, I have to be at the headquarters building early in the morning. Let’s speak later about it another time,” Hunnigan then gently remarks.

       “Sounds good! Goodnight, Hunnigan!” You beamed before ending the call, clamping the flip phone shut. With a cheesy grin, you whirl your torso to Mateo, who is leaning against the couch,”She was okay with it…so party on Friday? Maybe we can make it a recurring thing on the weekends with the guys…” You suggest while nodding. 

      Mateo chuckled at your proposal,”Maybe…” he simply states.

A smile formed on your lips now that there was something to look forward to on the weekends. However, you would have to persevere through the remaining days of the week, especially with the last client on Friday.

[silkendandelion]

What happened to Texas?

Disclaimer: I created a lot of the lore below for my personal Fallout rp, but feel free to use any ideas here for your own nonprofit discord, fanart and fanfictions (no commissions of any kind). Keep fandom free.

The day the bombs fell, most every Texan was at home, glued to their television screens to watch the Rangers play the Red Sox in the first World Series on Texas soil in over two decades. The rest of them were in their offices, trying to decide how to save their beloved state from the imminent economic crash that would follow the news that the oil fields have finally run dry.

Within just a few minutes, the decision was made for them.

Immediately following the fallout, a lot of Texans in the rural areas were left mostly unaffected, albeit severely isolated and short on supplies. For the four major metropolises: Dallas, Houston, Austin, and El Paso, they were all but scorched earth.

As a result of having so little nuclear infrastructure outside these four areas, what followed continues to amaze the anthropologists who study the years immediately following the first bombs. With no intercommunications, and no outside forces, called the “Great Grocery Run”, was a mass temporary exodus of Texans to the surrounding state borders to acquire nuclear technology and return to their non-irradiated homesteads. A lot would not return, although it picked clean the borders of nearly all salvage and tech in less than a decade.

Where the evidence of humanity was slowly dwindled and erased, nature reclaimed the (in some places nearly 100 miles) wide dead zone around the landlocked parts of the state, called “Chiron’s Hoof Print”, as a running joke that Chiron leapt off the earth not to escape Heracles but to escape nuclear war.

With such a wide wilderness to cross that has no places to salvage or buy supplies, crossing the dead zone with vehicles runs the risk of being stranded, especially when visitors don’t know to expect sudden wilderness. Meanwhile, travelers on foot are at the mercy of the irradiated rivers and animals.

Nearly 200 years later, the Hoof is more clearly marked, well-mapped but not so well understood as by the Farriers: a high-turnover group of mercenaries who take payment (caps or trade) to escort both caravans and individuals across the dead zone. They understand where the thinnest zones of the Hoof are, as well as carrying knowledge of safe water sources and how best to defend themselves from every type of creature. The average trip across is four days with plenty of rest breaks, but some excellently navigated Farriers, or ones with hearty clients that only stop to nap, can make the journey in 3 days, averaging one to two trips a week per Farrier.

(Put your fallout headcanons and extra lore in the notes so I can read them please, the hyperfixation is hyperfixating)

[angsty-twihardxx]

YOU ARE THE REASON | 3 | T. MILLER

Summary: Happily moved into Jackson with your love.

Warning: As always my fics are generally 18+ cuz swears and also mentions of bullet wounds and tommy being sad :( besides that its super fluffy enjoy <3

Tommy Miller x fem!reader

A/N: I loved writing this and I'm overwhelmed with the love I recieved for it. Lemme know plz if you would like another fic about our sexy texan man. ILY <3

6 MONTHS LATER

Winter was at the end of its cycle, the snow on the ground slowly began to melt away. What was left of it crunched under your boots as you walked along the street. Small yellow beams from the  string lights guided your way up the hill where your home sat. The colours of Jackson still took you by surprise, being used to the military grey you had surrounded yourself with for nearly twenty years. 

You had finished in the garden for the day, taking home with you a few extra vegetables for your own dinner. Since moving to Jackson you had taken up a few little jobs, you loved how effortless it was. No soldiers breathing down your neck, no life or death stakes, just watering plants and turning soil. Of course you did work at the town’s clinic, you helped out a bit here and there. Being one of very few qualified doctors in the compound, so you didn’t mind. 

The sky was filled with pinks and oranges as the sun was getting ready to set for the day, it was your favourite time. Mainly because it was around the time that patrol finished, which meant that Tommy came home. It was like before, when your life was normal. The two of you would leave in the morning to go to work, then come home to each other at the end of the day. 

Reaching the home; the wooden boards of the porch creaked under each step. You kicked the snow off of your boots, shedding off the layers as the warmth of your home engulfed you. Never in years have you had a fireplace, it was something that you never realised that you took for granted. This was the first winter that you didn’t spend completely freezing. You even had a whole bed, not just a mattress on the floor, an actual bed. In fact it quite reminded you of your own home the two of you had before, warm yellow sheets reminded you of the ones you bought for your first home. The ones Tommy said looked like cheese. 

You were quite sore from working all day, so you opted to have your cup of coffee outside on the porch. Wrapping a blanket over yourself you bundled up on the old worn out sofa you placed on the porch. A content sigh left your mouth, the hot liquid warming you up from the inside. 

From your porch you could see the main street, you watched silently all the people that were going in and out of the Tipsy Bison, sure enough going for some food and drinks. You heard that Maria was on bar duty today, so you knew the food would be good. 

Outside the cinema were kids running and throwing snowballs at one another. You smiled as you heard their delighted screams all the way from here. It was part of the promise that Tommy made to you. 

You kept your eyes on the gate, on the wall furthest away from your home. It was like this every afternoon, waiting patiently for Tommy to come home. This was one thing that was the same as living in the quarantine zone, the anxiety as you waited, whether or not he would come through the gate. Because although unlikely, you couldn’t imagine what you would do if something happened to him. 

Birds screech as they soar into the sky, the gate they were perching on suddenly shuddered open. Everyone rode in on their horses and gathered at the stables, your eyes falling on the familiar dark mop of hair. Your heart settled knowing that he was home. 

You wondered how he managed, after the incident in the hospital. The two of you tried not to bring it up anymore, you knew it was very hard for Tommy to talk about. You knew that he would have nightmares about it, being awake as well you would him gasp himself awake, then his hands would search for you in the dark. Once he successfully latched himself into you he would go back to sleep. Or the mornings that you decided to get up before him to get an early start to the day, he would walk down the stairs in a panic. For a brief moment, you recognised the frightened look in his eyes that would disappear the second he found you. 

You didn’t remember much about what happened, Joel told you some parts.  When you were all still in Boston and Tommy would finally sleep. He would stay up and answer whatever questions you had.

All you remembered before you passed out was Tommy’s fear-struck face and his glassy eyes looking down at you. It definitely was a memory you wished you could forget. The sound of his cries as you started to feel your eyelids get heavy. It would be those visions and sounds that kept you up at night, waking you up from your dreams in a cold sweat. 

You woke up a couple days later, in a smaller hospital on the other side of Boston. One that had not yet been attacked by Fireflies, removing the bullet that was plunged in your abdomen. The few days you were asleep felt like an eternity for Tommy, spending the entire time awake, wondering if you would wake up. For the first time in a long time he prayed, not to anyone specifically. Just promising that if you woke up, he would keep you safe, he would be a better person. Even if he felt that he didn’t deserve to be forgiven, he knew that you did. You spent the entire twenty years helping people, keeping them alive. Even if it was for fucken FEDRA, everything you did was so good. And he would do anything to have you stay with him. 

If his life depended on it, because it in fact did. 

He cried to himself thinking what he would have to do if he had to spend the rest of his future alone, it scared him more than anything. His whole life had been about you, living with you, marrying you, having a family with you and getting old with you. 

You opened your eyes for the first time after having surgery, he was sitting in a chair beside you. Not awake, but not entirely asleep, he held his heavy head in his hand. Heavy bags under his eyes and tear-stained cheeks indicated to you that he hadn’t slept, nor had he changed, wearing the same blood-stained jacket you saw him in.  You winced at the amount of blood on him. The bed creaked as you shuffled uncomfortably, the noise quickly startling the man next to you. 

Within seconds he was on his feet and by your side, his large calloused hands engulfing your cheeks. “Holy shit baby, I thought I lost you.” He breathed out, his eyes beginning to brim with tears again, his eyes scanned you quickly. You knew what he was doing, convincing himself that you were really here. 

He had been sitting alone in this room with no one to talk to but himself, his mind went to the worst possible scenarios. What if you didn’t make it? What if the surgery didn’t work? He blamed himself, he should’ve taken you away from this place sooner. He should’ve fucken known that the fireflies were going to ambush, he should’ve told you to stay home. 

“Tommy–” You breathed out in relief, unknowingly bringing him back. He had you in his arms in seconds. You hissed at the sharp pain piercing your side, Tommy dropped his arms just as quickly. His eyes moved up at yours, and there was that look again. You hadn't seen him look so scared. “Hey, I’m alright.” You declared softly, raising your hand to hold his cheeks, for a second the two of you sat on that bed. Tommy relished in your touch, your thumb grazing his stubble. Something that he thought he’d never feel again. 

“I thought you were gone.” His voice breaks as his eyes move up to connect with yours. 

The words you had ready, fell out of your mouth as he crashed his face in the crook of your neck. Which usually you would thread your fingers through his black curls, but this time his shoulders shook into your hands as you tried to soothe him. No matter how many hush whispers into his hair he continued to cry, and you let him for as long as it took. There was nothing that you could say to him that would make him feel better, he just needed to know that you were okay. 

“What if this is a sign? That we should stay in Boston.” 

“What?” Your brow furrowed in confusion, you pushed gently on his shoulders forcing him to look up at you. He looked like a broken man, you had never seen him so conflicted before. “Tommy this happened in Boston, because of the Fireflies-“

“Yeah and I couldn’t get to you, if those soldiers weren’t there then— then we probably wouldn’t be here right now.“ 

There it was, Tommy was never much the type of man to directly tell you how he was feeling. You knew how much he wanted to leave, there was absolutely no doubt about it. But now you understood why, not because he was scared of the risks. He was quite aware of them but was so willing anyway. He felt guilty, worried he won't be able to help you again. 

“Tommy.” You couldn’t stop your voice from quivering as you held him. “None of this is your fault, no one would have known this was going to happen. You know that right?” 

You sighed when you were given no response. “We’re going to Jackson Tommy.” 

Your eyes finally caught Tommy's figure, walking up the hill to your shared home along with his brother Joel. His eyes look up to meet yours, which he returns with a wide grin. Even though he had spent all day out on patrol, he was a lot more cleaned up then when you were in Boston. The access to electricity and warm water was another luxury for you guys. Here in Jackson, it was the norm. 

“Hey baby.” Tommy greeted you happily, sauntering up the stairs towards you. “Hi there cowboy.” Leaning over your seat, his lips met yours for a chaste kiss. You smiled into it, a content sigh leaving your mouth. You tilted up your chin at an attempt to deepen the kiss but to your surprise he pulled away before you had the chance. Furrowing your brow you cocked your head up at him, looking at him in confusion. 

“Put your coat on, got a surprise for ya.” 

“But I’m so warm.” You sighed, Tommy shook his head as he stood you up by the blanket you wrapped yourself in. “Sure you don’t want a shower first?” 

“Okay fine, but then you are coming with me for the surprise.” He shouted to you as he walked into the house, which was great because you bought yourself a few more extra minutes in your blanket. You figured that he was taking you somewhere in the town, Tommy explored alot more of the town before you. When the two of you arrived you were still quite sore, you spent your first few weeks simply resting and giving your body time. But now Tommy was determined to get you out and about, showing you everything that this town had to offer. 

As the two of you walked closer you noticed the warm yellow lights inside the local bar. Not that you had been in there, still slightly traumatised by the dinghy bar in Boston that was usually full of drunken soldiers looking to start something.

But this was nothing like it. You stood in the entrance completely taken aback by the amount of people. Everyone was here to celebrate with the newly married couple that had been here much longer than you and Tommy. The groom worked with him on patrols, so he introduced you to the couple. You tried to remember the first time you had been to a wedding. 

There was music, laughter and even more lights that were strung along the rafters. It was something you’d never imagine that you’d see again in your lifetime, yet here you were. You must have been standing there for a while, a hand on your arm brought your attention back to Tommy. “Y’alright?”

“Y-yeah this place is beautiful.”  You sighed happily, letting Tommy guide you to the bar where Joel and Ellie sat. “You guys hungry? Got some extra sandwiches for ya.” Ellie chimed in patting the stool next to her, which you took. 

You liked Ellie from the second you met her. She was quick-witted, funny and most importantly she was smart. And you also liked how she kept Joel in line, it felt good seeing him happy for a change. She u an easy transition into your small little family, you’d imagine that she and Sarah would’ve gotten along well. You were glad Ellie offered you the food because it took you by surprise with how good it was, definitely better than what you could get with rations in Boston. 

“Holy shit! What the fuck is that?” Ellie shouted, her arm pointing furiously outside. After regaining your composure and eating the last of the sandwich you nearly choked on, you looked past her pointed index finger to where there children were playing with some sparklers. “Y’never seen sparklers before?” Joel asked her, mid chew. 

“Fuck no dude!” She looked back at you with excitement plastered over her face. You absolutely adored how easily excited she was over what you would consider normal. Although in this instance you didn’t blame her, you don’t think you’ve seen these in years. “How about you finish your food, and we’ll go get you some.” 

And you did, because you never break a promise. Tommy leaned against the wall outside as you watched Ellie proudly, holding her hand with the sparkler and writing her name out with the bright yellow ember. He loved how patient you were with her when she dropped the first sparkler you gave her, scared of the yellow sparks. So you waited a moment for her to get her composure back and you tried again. 

A part of him felt crushed with the fact that he never gave you any children. But to be fair neither of you felt it would be right to bring a child into this world. But maybe in Jackson, after all that was why you came here. For a better future. 

“What’re the big heart eyes for lover boy?” You leaned into him, bringing him out of his trance. “Just admiring’ ya is all.” You scoffed at him playfully, the fact that he could still make you blush after all this time. With a content sigh, you dropped your head onto his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you, your eyes watched over the now dark sky. The string lights doing nowhere as much damage as the bright lights that would be on everynight in the QZ, the stars shining as bright as you remembered it. 

Ellie had joined the rest of the children that were playing on the street, you didn’t think you would get used to hearing their cheerful screams. You were glad that you decided to bite the bullet and push down those insecurities and do this with him. Especially now, you don’t think that you could live without this. You were content and you were grateful. 

“This place is pretty perfect Tommy.”

[mariacallous]

Two consecutive summers of brutal heat and drought have left some parts of Texas with notably low water supplies going into 2024.

A wet year or a well-placed hurricane could quickly pull these regions back from the brink. But winter rains have disappointed so far. Last week’s downpours are the first in weeks for parts of the state and they won’t hit the watersheds that need them most.

Looking ahead, forecasters increasingly expect another scorching summer here this year.

That’s bad news for places like far-south Texas, where big reservoirs on the Lower Rio Grande fell from 33 percent to 23 percent full over the past 12 months. A repeat of similar conditions would leave the reservoirs far lower than they’ve ever been, triggering an emergency response and an international crisis.

“Pretty scary times,” said Jim Darling, president of the Rio Grande Regional Water Authority and former mayor of the city of McAllen. “We’ll see what happens.”

Worries stretch beyond the Rio Grande. In Corpus Christi, on the south Texas coast, authorities last month stopped releasing water aimed at maintaining minimum viable ecology in the coastal wetlands, even as oil refineries and chemical plants remain exempt from water use restrictions during drought.

Also last month, in the sprawling suburbs of Central Texas, between Austin and San Antonio, one groundwater district declared stage 4 drought for the first time in its 36-year history.

Texans don’t usually talk about drought in the winter. Damp soil and green grass may conceal the impending predicament today, but water planners in regions with low reserves nervously await what summer may bring.

“Signs are not favorable,” said Greg Waller, a coordinating hydrologist with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration in Fort Worth. “Expect warmer and drier, again.”

Winter and spring rains offer the best hope for relief, he said, but weather patterns so far haven’t produced the sustained downpours needed to refill reservoirs.

Drought conditions in 2022 and 2023 struck with markedly acute severity. Last year was the hottest on record for Texas—and the Earth, according to NOAA—after a global heat wave shattered temperature records around the world.

These patterns, Waller said, are consistent with scientific understanding of climate change caused by carbon emissions.

“Climate change means the extremes are going to get more extreme,” he said. “The heat waves are going to get more heat. The droughts are going to get droughty-er and the floods are going to get floody-er.”

Texas rainfall typically peaks in May. If relief doesn’t come by then, some places will need to start bracing for impact.

Corpus Christi: Wetlands and Refineries

Corpus Christi, with 421,000 people in its two-county metro area, sits where the Gulf Coast marshes meet the semi-arid South Texas plains. The region’s combined reservoirs dropped from 53.7 percent full in 2022 to 43.6 percent in 2023 to 30.5 percent this month.

The city announced in December that it would no longer release water from its reservoir system to support basic ecology in coastal bays and estuaries.

“Due to the ongoing drought in our water supply,” wrote a city spokesperson in a statement. “NO water is being released from Lake Corpus Christi to the Bays and Estuaries.”

Wherever Texas rivers join the sea, these once-vast wetlands host critical reproductive cycles of many aquatic species, and they depend on freshwater inflows for their characteristically half-salty, nutrient-rich systems. When water supply gets tight, the bays and estuaries typically are first to see their allocations revoked while cities keep dam gates closed.

These ecosystems, which once benefited from all the water from the formerly undammed rivers of Texas, have adapted to natural droughts. Dry years severely decrease the amount of species reproduction, but when wet weather returns, the system can usually recover within a year, according to Paul Montagna, endowed chair of hydroecology at Harte Research Institute for Gulf of Mexico Studies in Corpus Christi.

“However, if a system is permanently impaired it is also possible that recovery will not reach former levels,” Montagna said.

Studies suggest that systems around Corpus Christi may already be “permanently impaired,” Montagna said, largely due to a sustained lack of fresh water.

Similar problems span the lower Texas coast. The Rio Grande hasn’t flowed consistently into the Gulf of Mexico since the early 2000s. On the Colorado River, which runs through Austin, authorities have kept water releases to the coastal wetlands at a bare minimum in recent years. Jennifer Walker, director of the National Wildlife Foundation’s Texas Coast and Water Program, called it “critical life support.”

“Water to meet environmental needs is frequently the first to be negotiated away,” Walker said. “Our bays and estuaries are a hugely important part of Texas and they’re not something that would be easy to go back and fix.”

In Corpus Christi, a major refining and export hub for Texas shale oil and gas, city authorities have imposed water use restrictions on residents, with more to come if reservoir levels fall below 30 percent. But the region’s largest industrial water consumers operate unabated, thanks to a purchasable exemption from drought restrictions for industrial users—$0.25 per 1,000 gallons—passed by the city council in 2018.

That includes users like ExxonMobil’s massive new plastics plant, which is authorized to use up to 25 million gallons of water per day—a quarter of the regional summertime water demand.

“Industry can continue full bore through all of these drought stages and the estuary gets cut off early,” said a water resource consultant from Corpus Christi who requested anonymity to preserve his business relationship with the city. “I think it’s a looming disaster. They are still trying to recruit all these water-intensive industries along the coast.”

Proceeds from the exemption program were supposed to fund development of seawater desalination plants that would expand the regional water supply and meet demands of a booming industrial buildout. The first plant was initially planned to begin operations early last year, but it remains mired in challenges and years away from breaking ground. Meanwhile, the industrial buildout continues.

Central Texas: People and Grass

Two hundred miles inland, the five-county region surrounding Austin, Texas’ high-tech capital city, has grown faster than any US metro area for 12 straight years. Its water supplies haven’t.

In 2022, less water flowed into City of Austin reservoirs than ever before, city staff said at a public water task force meeting on Tuesday. Last year was only slightly better. The largest reservoir serving Austin, Lake Travis, fell from about 80 percent full in January 2022 to 38 percent full at the start of this year.

Even in another extreme drought year, Austin can avoid heightened water use restrictions, which take effect when reservoirs fall below 30 percent full, until at least July, according to a water supply outlook presented at the meeting. But the outlook stopped short of August and September, the region’s hottest and (recently) driest months.

“It’s not looking good,” said Robert Mace, director of the Meadows Center for Water and the Environment at Texas State University and a member of the water task force.

Even if levels fall below 30 percent, water users in Austin will face only minor restrictions, focused mostly on car washing and lawn irrigation. During the summer in Texas, when water consumption can double or triple over wintertime use, major cities spray most of their treated drinking water onto grass.

The problem worsens as more land converts to suburban subdivisions amid a homebuilding boom, said Todd Votteler, a water dispute consultant and editor of the Texas Water Journal, a peer-reviewed journal focused on water management and research. Texas gained more residents and built more homes than any state in recent years.

“One of the challenges is the idea for home builders and the real estate industry that all these new houses need to have beautiful green lawns,” said Votteler, who has worked at groundwater and river authorities in Central Texas since 1994. “People moving here from some place else have not lived in a region with a limited water supply.”

Around the city of Austin, a patchwork of authorities manages various aquifers and reservoirs. Last month, the Barton Springs/Edwards Aquifer Groundwater Conservation District declared stage four drought restrictions for the first time in its 36-year history. That required the oldest communities and major companies in the district to reduce water use by 40 percent, while 16 newer permit holders were cut off entirely.

The district’s customers include the small city of Kyle, the third-fastest growing US city in 2022, plus dozens of small water companies and utility districts.

“We’ve been concerned for years. We’ve been in one stage of drought or another for well over a year and a half now,” said Tim Loftus, general manager of the Barton Springs/Edwards Aquifer Groundwater Conservation District. “We just really need rain.”

Loftus said his customers have “risen to the occasion” and complied with cuts. Another district hasn’t been as lucky.

The neighboring Hays Trinity Groundwater Conservation District has fought for two years with a local subsidiary of a national investor-owned water supply company over violations of permit pumping limits, even as severe drought conditions have continued to deepen.

The company, Aqua Texas, has taken almost twice its permitted allotment for two consecutive years and has declined to abide by drought restrictions, according to Charlie Flatten, general manager of the Hays Trinity Groundwater Conservation District. This month, Aqua sued the conservation district in federal court. Its legal brief didn’t address whether Aqua had overpumped, but accused the groundwater district of violating due process and of “unequal application of its penalty policy.” It added that “Aqua Texas has voluntarily spent millions of dollars in water conservation.” The groundwater district, in legal documents, has denied Aqua’s allegations.

“We’re already seeing wells drying up, not just in specific sections but across the district,” Flatten said. “As we continue to use water and there continues to be no recharge, more and more wells will be affected.”

Another major nearby water source, the Canyon Lake reservoir, started last year 80 percent full, surpassed its record low of 68 percent in August, and is 60 percent full today.

The Lower Rio Grande: Texas and Mexico

The biggest water problems in Texas lie along its southern border, where some 6 million people in two countries depend on the dwindling Lower Rio Grande system.

At the river’s end, amid the irrigated fields of the fertile Rio Grande Valley, farmers have lost crops midseason in recent years due to water shortages. This year, many won’t plant at all, worried they will lose the investment to another summer drought, said Darling, the Rio Grande Regional Water Authority president.

That creates a spiraling conundrum for the flourishing cities of the Rio Grande Valley in Texas, home to more than a million people, he said. The once-prosperous agricultural sector historically accounts for more than 80 percent of water demand here. Without its vast volumes flowing for irrigation, the region’s network of canals would almost dry up. Cities would lose more than half their water supply to evaporation and soil absorption along its 70-mile journey from the nearest reservoir.

There are two possible temporary remedies to this problem, Darling said.

One is the weather. The only other time the Rio Grande reservoirs fell as low as they have today, around 2000, a hurricane soon hit and refilled them almost entirely. A Pacific storm could also bring relief to the bulk of the Rio Grande watershed, which covers the mountains of northwestern Mexico.

Another is international politics. Because most of the water used by Texas farmers on the Lower Rio Grande originates as rainfall in Northern Mexico, a binational treaty governs water sharing between the countries.

Northern Mexico has experienced its own water crises lately, including a deadly riot at a reservoir dam in 2020 and months of water rationing in 2022 in one of the country’s largest cities. So, it’s been reluctant to release water for Texas farmers, contributing to low levels in the downstream reservoirs.

Since 2020, Mexico has fallen sharply behind on its schedule of water releases to Texas under the treaty, which was ratified in 1944. It has until the end of 2025 before it faces delinquency. But the Rio Grande Valley of Texas might not have another two years to wait, Darling said.

The political situation is managed primarily by the International Boundary and Water Commission, a small agency operated by the US and Mexico.

“We are negotiating an agreement with Mexico intended to improve the predictability and reliability of Rio Grande water deliveries,” said an agency spokesperson, Frank Fisher. “We hope this agreement will provide tools that will help users affected by supply shortages.”

North of the border, Fisher said, water restrictions will be managed by the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality.

A TCEQ spokesperson, Victoria Cann, said the agency “has warned users about declining storage and encouraged users to plan for water shortages.”

“TCEQ continues to advocate for water users on the Rio Grande by communicating to IBWC the need for Mexico to deliver on their water obligations under the 1944 Water Treaty,” Cann said.

[magicrainbowkitties]

Btw I, as a Texan, need y'all to understand something about this Supreme Court decision and why Abbott's defiance of both them and federal border patrol has people up in arms.

First of all, the decision was literally "the border and immigration are the jurisdiction of the federal government, not the states." Which. One would hope. This decision was in reference to border patrol agents needing to cut RAZOR WIRE in order to get to people who need medical attention or to be saved from drowning in the Rio Grande. This is because once you are on American soil, citizen or not, you are under American jurisdiction and they are required to help you in an emergency situation (eg, bleeding out from razor wire, drowning because of death buoys in the river, ect).

What Abbott and his flunkies are mad about is LITERALLY that those agents are trying to save SOME lives. Mind, Biden has built more border wall in his presidency than Trump ever did, and still continues to maintain these inhumane detention camps out near Eagle Pass that deny people blankets in the cold, water in the heat, and soap. Literally they don't let folks have fucking SOAP.

And Abbott is defying the will of the federal government because they want to save SOME people from his death traps in and around the Rio Grande (which are also, unsurprisingly, an unmitigated ecological disaster as well).

Now, there's a reason why talk of Texas secession is coming up specifically at this time. Because when Texas seceded back in the day, 2 sentences after the sentence which boils down to "we're seceding because we want the freedom to own black people," there's this utter gem:

"The federal government has failed in her duty to defend our state from Mexican bandits and Indian savages."

Gee, what's that sound like? If it sounds like "we wanna own black people and kill brown people," you're absolutely correct!

We have been here before. And it was one of the bloodiest domestic conflicts in the world, certainly the bloodiest war fought on American soil. We cannot allow assholes like Abbott and Trump to make us repeat this. We cannot sit idly by and let the poorest, most desperate people in this half of the world be murdered for the crime of fleeing for their lives.

If you take anything away from this post, let it be this:

This is not about people who don't go through the processes, or just barge in and sneak into your place and steal your jobs. That is a racist, xenophobic fabrication. These are people who have no choice but to flee their homes and seek refuge in America. And we greet them by trying to kill them, and then throwing them in prison while stealing their children and "deciding what to do with them."

And Greg Abbott and the Texas Republican party are mad that they're not being allowed to kill more of these people.

I will leave you with this thought: If these people indeed have the option to immigrate legally, why aren't they? Why are they trying to go across what is famously the most militarized border between two nations at peace in the world?

And why, if this immigration crisis is so dire that Texas is "full to bursting," why is my hometown just outside of Austin one of the fastest growing in the country, and why is it all white people moving in? Why is Abbott offering tax credits to people who move their tech and creative industries, and thus more people to work those jobs, and thus adding more people to Texas?

[ausetkmt]

Black Seminole tribal members of El Nacimiento de los Negros have celebrated their version of Juneteenth since the 1870s.

When Mexico outlawed slavery decades before the United States, thousands of Black Texans found a new route to freedom.

Their descendants meet in Coahuila, Mexico, every year for Juneteenth celebrations. 

Just over 100 miles from the Texas-Mexico border, a small mountain town in Coahuila, Mexico, is preparing for their annual Juneteenth celebrations.

El Nacimiento de los Negros, translating to "Birth of the Blacks," is home to a community of Afro-Indigenous families that trace their roots back to the United States. Known as "Mascogos," the group are descendants of Black Seminoles who found a home in Mexico after fleeing slavery and the threat of slave catchers in the US.

Black Seminoles were formerly enslaved people who escaped the plantations they worked on and aligned themselves with the Indigenous Seminoles of Florida. The joined forces with the Indigenous tribes to fight the US in the Seminole Wars.

In the 1800s, many Black Seminoles were forced to relocate from places like Georgia and Florida to areas designated Indian Territory in Oklahoma. During that time, Black Seminole chief John Horse, who had both Indigenous and Black ancestry, led a group of people to Mexico, where slavery had already been outlawed. A group settled in El Nacimiento in 1852.

The Southern Underground Railroad

When the General Congress of the United Mexican States completely outlawed slavery in 1837, enslaved people in Texas had a viable route to freedom by going southward. Notably, in the 1936-1938 federal Slave Narrative project, emancipated freeman and San Antonio-born Felix Hayward remarked: "There wasn't no reason to run up north… All we had to do was to walk, but walk south, and we'd be free as soon as we crossed the Rio Grande." By 1849, African Americans began to make the journey into Mexico. 

Experts estimate that up to 10,000 people crossed the border to Mexico to secure their freedom and escape slavery, creating what is known as the Southern Underground Railroad.

Contrary to the Union's agreement to return runaway slaves under the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, Mexican law provided freedom for escaped slaves once they touched Mexican soil. Many of those escaped enslaved people, alongside Indigenous groups of Mexico, helped defend the Northern Mexican border in exchange for acres of land in Coahuila.

Celebrating Juneteenth in Mexico

Juneteenth marks the official end of slavery on June 19th, 1865 when 250,000 Black people in Galveston, Texas were informed of their freedom by executive decree. Historians estimate that as some Black Seminoles traveled back and forth from El Nacimiento to Brackettville, Texas, Juneteenth celebrations spread to Mexico as early as the 1870s. 

For more than 100 years, Mascogos in El Nacimiento have celebrated what they call "Dia de los Negros," or "Day of the Blacks," on June 19th. Many Black Seminole descendants still embark on the pilgrimage from parts of Texas to El Nacimiento to celebrate the day. Traditional cuisine includes a sweet potato bread called tetapún and slow-cooked asado pork. The dishes combine Indigenous, Black, and Mexican cultural inspirations.

After generations in northern Mexico, many members of the Black Seminoles in El Nacimiento strictly speak Spanish. However, the hymns passed down from African American descendants are still sung in English on Dia de los Negros, including "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" and "This Little Light of Mine." 

As more Black Seminole descendants are leaving El Nacimiento to find work in Texas or other parts of Mexico, many Mascogos are worried their culture is waning.

To prioritize preservation, members have established the Museo Comunitario Tribu Negros Mascogos for local art, a hotel, a restaurant, and secured federal funding for community gardens. In 2017, the governor of Coahuila declared the Mascogo tribe as Indigenous people of the northern Mexican state.

As Juneteenth was officially recognized as a US federal holiday in 2021, tribal members are planning to promote cultural tourism as a source of support and revitalization for the enduring town, and prevailing traditions, of El Nacimiento de los Negros.

[slowroadtosantiago]

Day 19 - Hornillos to Castrojeriz

(Posting delay of yesterday’s walk as there was rubbish signal and wifi at the albergue)

It was about a 20k day, 12 miles or so.

Each day when we set off I think ‘what on earth am I going to write about today? It’s not a long day, we eat, we walk’ and each day something different happens…so here’s today’s story.

After a reasonable night’s sleep we were rudely awoken by an alarm going off at 6, and people shuffling about and opening the door. Then the light went on, hrmph!

We had breakfast at the hostel then set off about 7:20 with full packs today. My blisters have now all healed so I walked without plasters, and Jane was walking for the first time without strapping her feet up too. Jane’s heel is also OK after rest.

There was a steady climb out of the valley onto the plateau at the top. It was a cooler morning but we still stripped of our jackets half way up. The land is very open with chalk white soil on the hillsides. The fields are full of barley or wheat and young poppies are just starting to appear on the verges and you can see that in a couple of weeks it will look gorgeous.

Across the plateau we started having a go at the Welsh national anthem. My Bethan is going to send through a line a day to learn so we should have it sorted by the time we finish!

We were caught up by an Irish couple who had heard the ‘singing’ and we chatted about our journeys. They were travelling light and doing it in stages so soon sped past us.

Scott also caught us up and we walked down into Hontanas together for our first proper coffee of the day. Hontanas is a nice place that just suddenly appears as it’s down in a dip. On the way out we passed an old 2CV, haven’t seen one of those for ages, and whereas you usually see a fountain cherub having a wee, today we saw a full sized version!

The path followed a nice valley and where it joined the road again we found a comfortable spot under a proper tree to have a rest and change into our sandals.

The road eventually led to an old ruined monastery at San Anton where there was a huge arch over the road and where some of the old buildings had been preserved as an albergue.

The last stretch on a long straight road brought us to Castrojeriz looking impressive in the distance with a castle on the hill and church down below.

Our hostel is clean and the beds not too rickety. It is also unusual as the evening meal is South Korean inspired.

We dumped our stuff then found a cafe for a beer and some lunch for me - I had been looking forward to a wedge of tortilla. We met up with the Texans in the same cafe though they are sleeping elsewhere tonight. We clocked that the church was closed so would visit it later.

Back at the hostel it was time for a shower and a chill. We then had a mammoth session sat in the garden planning out the rest of our trip. Nicole, the Australia, was planning on celebrating her birthday on the 15th of May in Herrerías so we’ve worked out how to get there for then. At the moment it looks like we may get to Santiago on the 24th May and fly out on the 28th, but things can change.

We decided that after all that hard work we deserved a glass of wine so started making our way to the local bar. The clouds behind were very ominous.

The church on the way was open so we thought to drop in there first. It’s a museum as well and the guardian very enthusiastically talked about some of the exhibits, in Spanish, so we nodded along enthusiastically too!

As we reached the entrance again the skies started to open up. We decided the better course of action was to get back to the hostel. As we were running back it started hail storming! A bit damp we got back and watched the streams of water running down the street.

After a while we were called to dinner. The Korean meal was delicious. There was rice on the bottom and different veg arranged on top along with ground beef. You then added a fried egg, soy sauce, miso soup and as much spicy red sauce you could manage and mixed it all together. We’ve got quite a few Koreans in the bunkhouse and they enjoyed it very much.

We’re now in our bunks listening to the thunder outside. The bad weather is due to move off tonight and we should have a dry day tomorrow, fingers crossed.

[faelynnupward]

This is totally fine as long as the people in those places aren’t blaming big, northern, liberal city LGBT+ people for why the South is the way it is and sometimes that is exactly how it comes across. I came out in Minneapolis, spent a stint in semi-rural Indiana and now I live in Seattle. I am a non-citizen and don’t have a vote. I can do basically nothing to affect meaningful change in Texas or Texan politics. I couldn’t do much at all about the way the wind was blowing in Indiana, either.

I can share my opinion online (and generally do). I can represent myself well and convince the cishet people around me that queer people don’t deserve to be treated this way by their government. That’s about it. I can’t afford to fly down to attend rallies or donate money. I don’t have a vote. Otherwise the safest advice I can give is to pick up roots and plant them in more fertile soil. I wish it wasn’t that way but it is.

What if I don't want to leave Texas? The only option for LGBT+ southerners should not be, "Just move somewhere else."

I don't have any attachment to "somewhere else". I don't have a community "somewhere else". I have to start from scratch "somewhere else", and that should not be my only option. That should not be the option people in big, northern, liberal cities give me whenever I talk about the political climate in the south.

I want to make the south safe for me and mine, not abandon it entirely. This is my home. These are my roots. We should be focused on making these places better, not writing them off as a lost cause.

[rauthschild]

The Autochthonous States of the Union hold concurrent general jurisdiction over all matters, soil, land, air, and water within and immediately adjoining their sea coast borders. 

This means that there is no greater authority vested in any aspect or service provider within the Federal Government; in fact, at best, the Federal Service Providers under contract are operating on authorities delegated to them by the Autochthonous Nation-States [> Title 5, U.S.C.S. 1501(1)] directly, or via the instrumentality of our venerable Holding Company, The United States of North America which is Unincorporated, and which holds and delegates the mutually-held powers delegated to it by the Nation-States. 

All States in this country are fully functional and have been enrolled as States of the Union since November the First of 2004, retroactive to the date they first entered Territorial Statehood. 

There is no lapse in government, no basis for a presumption of any abandonment, and no way to come in and change Article 8 and 9 of the Uniform Commercial Code after the fact, so as to assert the existence of a Secured Creditor position for the Federal Reserve System Receivers in Bankruptcy.  

Our claims and the claims of our Autochthonous Nation-States predate all that.  

These are fraudulent activities promoted by commercial corporations seeking a means to latch onto assets that never belonged to the fictional DEBTORS in the first place. 

There's not going to be any "Great Taking", or "Resettlement", or all the other words that have been used for such criminality in the past. 

Everyone on Earth who can read knows full well what the Federal Constitutions say and the limitations of the Federal "Powers".  And now everyone also knows that the Autochthonous American Parties to the Constitutions are still here and enforcing them, so any supposition or pretension otherwise is insupportable. 

Our Autochthonous Nation-State Courts hold concurrent General Jurisdiction and are the superior authorities with regard to all Autochthonous Americans and Autochthonous American assets, just as the District Courts maintain their authority over 14th Amendment British Territorial and Vatican Municipal U.S. Citizens and matters pertaining to them and their assets. 

Thus, for example, Governor Greg Abbott as a U.S. Citizen may owe loyalty to the British Territorial United States of America, Incorporated, and their service contract obligations, and at the same time, as an Vatican Municipal citizen, have reason to enforce the same contract. 

Questions related to the service contract obligations from the standpoint of the Service Provider would go to the U.S. Supreme Court, whereas action to enforce the contract falls under the concurrent General Jurisdiction of our Nation-State Court, which holds the supreme authority within the borders of each State.  

Once we dispense with the idea that illegal occupation of our country by mercenary forces constitutes a "war" or can be dignified under The Law of War, we -- and Governor Abbott -- are left with two possible pathways to Justice. 

The first pathway is via the United States District Court, where as Governor Abbott is a U.S. Citizen, he can plead for support of his interpretation of his service contract which very plainly and specifically demands that he secures our Autochthonous borders. 

The second pathway is via the Nation-State Texas Court which holds concurrent general jurisdiction and which speaks to and for the Autochthonous Americans living in Texas; then, acting on their behalf as a Texan, Greg Abbott can sue the Biden Administration in Texas State Court on a number of issues: enforcement of the service contract, physical damages, and economic damages.

If the U.S. Supreme Court attempts to evade the obvious language of The Constitution of the United States of America concerning border security, they will lose credibility. 

Because everyone can read and the language is not complicated or obscure, continuing to collude with the current Administration on the issue of their "Open Borders Policy" will permanently undermine the credibility of the U.S. Supreme Court; this is because the Principals are still bound by contract, and contracts overstand both treaties and corporate policies. 

The Autochthonous Nation-State Courts will yield justice for Texas and for Greg Abbott.  Our interpretation of the contract is as straight-forward as the original Constitution itself. 

So, this is Notice to the Military that Law of War and Law of Peace equally do not apply to this situation, because The American Civil War and all other wars they have fought since then have been illegal Mercenary Conflicts. 

It is also Notice to the International Community, Governor Abbott, Joe Biden, and all other Parties addressed via email or in hard copy, that our Nation-State Courts continue to hold concurrent General Jurisdiction with respect to all Autochthonous Americans and Autochthonous American assets, including American Trust Assets. 

NOW THE BOMBSHELL.....💣

Governor Abbott, is a 14th Amendment citizen of the United States and Vatican Municipal United States, and Federal Governor of the State of Texas [> Title 5, U.S.C.S. 1501(2)]. He is not a National of the Nation-State Unincorporated [> Title 5, U.S.C.S. 1501(2)], nor can he lawfully represent our dejure Autochthonous Sovereign Nation-State.

Governor Abbott, is citizen > Subject of the British Territorial United States and Vatican Municipal United States, which he serves as Federal Governor of a subsidiary foreign political- partisan corporation owned and controlled by the Vatican Pope Francis.

Again, Whites > Caucasian > Albinos, were the first Surfs / Slaves of the 13 Black British Colonies aka United States. 🇺🇸

[premier-c]

Sip and Savor: The Ultimate Guide to Winery Tour Transportation in Texas

Introduction

Texas, renowned for its vast landscapes and diverse terroir, has emerged as a prominent player in the American wine scene. With numerous wineries dotting the picturesque countryside, embarking on a winery tour is a delightful way to savor the flavors of the Lone Star State. This guide explores the various Texas Winery Tours transportation, offering insights into crafting a memorable and stress-free oenophilic adventure.

1. The Texan Terroir: A Wine Enthusiast's Paradise

1.1 Wine Regions in Texas

Texas boasts several distinctive wine regions, each with its unique climate and soil characteristics. The Texas Hill Country, High Plains, and the Gulf Coast are notable regions contributing to the state's diverse wine offerings. Understanding the geography and distribution of wineries is fundamental when planning a winery tour, as it influences the choice of transportation.

1.2 Types of Wineries

Texas hosts a variety of wineries, from boutique establishments crafting artisanal wines to larger, well-established vineyards. Some wineries focus on specific varietals, while others offer a broad spectrum. Tailoring the winery tour experience to personal preferences involves researching and selecting wineries that align with one's taste and preferences.

2. Transportation Options for Winery Tours

2.1 Chauffeured Limousines

For those seeking a luxurious and stress-free winery tour experience, chauffeured limousines are an excellent choice. This option allows wine enthusiasts to relax and savor the journey while a professional driver navigates the scenic routes. Limousines provide an elegant and comfortable mode of transportation, enhancing the overall winery tour experience.

2.2 Shuttle Services

Shuttle services designed specifically for winery tours offer a balance between comfort and group travel. These services provide a designated driver who navigates between selected wineries, ensuring a safe and convenient journey for all participants. Shuttle services are ideal for group tours, allowing friends or fellow wine enthusiasts to share the experience.

2.3 Private Car Rentals

Renting a private car provides flexibility and autonomy for individuals or small groups embarking on a winery tour. With a private car, wine enthusiasts have the freedom to create a personalized itinerary, choosing the wineries they wish to visit and exploring the Texas wine country at their own pace. This option is particularly suitable for those who prefer a self-guided adventure.

2.4 Group Tours

For a social and curated winery tour experience, group tours organized by tour operators or wineries themselves are a popular choice. These tours often include transportation, guided visits to multiple wineries, and the opportunity to meet fellow wine enthusiasts. Group tours provide a structured and inclusive experience, making them ideal for those seeking a shared adventure.

3. Planning the Perfect Winery Tour

3.1 Researching Wineries

A successful winery tour begins with thorough research on the wineries in the chosen region. Consider factors such as the types of wines offered, tasting experiences, and any special events or festivals taking place. This research forms the basis for crafting an itinerary that caters to personal preferences.

3.2 Creating an Itinerary

With an understanding of the wineries in mind, create a well-thought-out itinerary. Consider the geographical proximity of wineries to optimize travel time and maximize the time spent savoring wines. Factor in breaks for meals, scenic viewpoints, and the option to explore nearby attractions to create a well-rounded winery tour experience.

3.3 Booking Transportation in Advance

Whether opting for a chauffeured limousine, shuttle service, or private car rental, booking transportation in advance is essential. Winery tours are popular, and securing transportation ensures availability and allows for customization based on group size and preferences.

4. Tips for a Memorable Winery Tour

4.1 Hydration and Snacking

While the primary focus of a winery tour is, of course, wine tasting, it's essential to stay hydrated and incorporate light snacks throughout the day. Drinking water between tastings helps cleanse the palate, and having a snack can enhance the overall experience.

4.2 Dress Comfortably and Appropriately

Texas weather can vary, and wineries often involve outdoor settings. Dressing comfortably and wearing appropriate footwear is crucial for enjoying the experience fully. Additionally, bringing a light jacket for cooler evenings or indoor settings is advisable.

4.3 Respect Winery Etiquette

Each winery may have its own set of rules and etiquette. Respectful behavior, such as not bringing outside food or drinks, adhering to designated tasting areas, and following the guidance of winery staff, contributes to a positive experience for everyone.

Conclusion

Embarking on a winery tour in Texas is a sensory journey, blending the beauty of the landscape with the rich flavors of the state's wines. Choosing the right transportation option is a pivotal decision that can significantly enhance the overall experience. Whether opting for the elegance of a chauffeured limousine, the flexibility of a private car rental, the convenience of shuttle services, or the camaraderie of group tours, each option offers a unique way to savor the diverse terroir of Texas.

[chappythegardener]

Can You Grow Sweet Potatoes in Texas?

Are you ready to dig into the world of sweet potatoes, Texas style? Y'all are in for a treat! Growing sweet potatoes in the Lone Star State is like a wild rodeo ride, full of flavor, fun, and a few surprises. So saddle up and get ready to wrangle those tubers with these tips. We'll have you saying, "Hot diggity-dang, these sweet potatoes are mighty fine!" in no time. Choose the Texas-Friendly Varieties: Opt for sweet potato varieties that can handle the Texas heat, such as 'Beauregard,' 'O'Henry,' or 'Red Garnet.' They'll thrive like true Lone Star champions. Sunny Side Up: Sweet potatoes are sun worshipers, so plant them in a spot that gets a full day of glorious Texas sunshine. They'll soak up that vitamin D and grow like they're in their own sweet potato paradise. Don't Mess with Texas Soil: Sweet potatoes enjoy loose, sandy soil with good drainage. If your soil is heavy clay, add some organic matter like compost or well-rotted cow chips to loosen things up. Yeehaw! Time It Just Right: Plant your sweet potatoes in late spring or early summer when the soil temperature reaches around 60°F (15°C). That's when the Texan soil is just right for these rootin' tootin' tubers. Space Out, Y'all: Give those sweet potatoes some room to stretch their legs. Space them about 12-18 inches apart in rows that are 3-4 feet apart. They'll appreciate the elbow room for their underground antics. Mulch Like a Pro: Lay down a thick layer of mulch around your sweet potatoes. It'll keep those pesky Texas weeds at bay and help retain moisture in the soil. That's what we call a win-win, partner. Texas-Sized Watering: Sweet potatoes like to stay hydrated, especially during the scorching Texas summers. Water them deeply and regularly, making sure the soil stays moist but not waterlogged. Hydration station, y'all! Fertilize with Flair: Before planting, mix in some organic fertilizer to give your sweet potatoes a boost. They'll appreciate the extra nutrients as they grow big and bold like true Texas heroes. Watch for the Lone Star Pests: Keep an eye out for pesky critters like the sweet potato weevil or aphids. Show 'em who's boss by using organic pest control methods or calling in the cavalry (beneficial insects). Weed Wrangling: Don't let those pesky Texas weeds hog all the nutrients. Regularly weed your sweet potato patch to keep them at bay and ensure your tubers get all the attention they deserve. Mound 'Em Up: As your sweet potato vines spread, gently mound soil or mulch around the base of the plants. This encourages more tuber formation and makes your sweet potatoes go, "Yeehaw, we're growing big and strong!" Embrace the Texas Heat: Sweet potatoes thrive in Texas heat, but they may need some shade during scorching afternoons. Provide a little shade using row covers or plant them near taller crops for some cool vibes. Be Patient, Partner: Sweet potatoes take their own sweet time to develop those tasty tubers. It can take anywhere from 90 to 120 days, so put on your patient boots and let them do their thing. Harvest Like a Texan: When the foliage starts to yellow and die back, it's time to wrangle those sweet potatoes out of the ground. Grab your gardening gloves and give 'em a gentle tug. Yeehaw, you've struck gold! Cure Like a Cowboy: After harvest, let your sweet potatoes cure in a warm and dry spot (around 80-85°F or 27-29°C) for about a week. This toughens their skin and improves their flavor. Ain't that something? Store 'Em, Texas Style: Once cured, store your sweet potatoes in a cool (55-60°F or 13-15°C), dark, and well-ventilated place. Keep 'em safe from critters and enjoy the taste of Texas all year round. Share the Bounty: Show off your Texas-sized harvest and share the love with friends, family, and neighbors. Everyone will be hollerin', "Can I get a taste of them sweet potatoes, partner?" Plan for Next Year: Save some of your harvested sweet potatoes as "slips" for next year's crop. Simply place them in water to sprout, then transplant the sprouts into the garden. It's the gift that keeps on giving. Experiment with Recipes: Get creative with your Texas-grown sweet potatoes! Whip up some sweet potato pie, spicy fries, or even a hearty Tex-Mex casserole. The possibilities are as big as the Texas sky. Enjoy the Sweet Potato Ride: Growing sweet potatoes in Texas is a wild ride, filled with flavor, pride, and a touch of Texas magic. So sit back, relax, and savor every delicious bite. Giddy up, sweet potato lovers! Remember, growing sweet potatoes in Texas is a true adventure, but with these tips and a can-do Texan spirit, you'll be reaping a bountiful harvest in no time. Happy growing, partner! Yeehaw! Read the full article

[littlefreya]

Sy being the nude model in your adult art class

Summary: Syverson is a nude model in your art class

Pairing: Syverson x Reader (No mention of body type or ethnicity)

Words: 1k

Warning: 18+, male nudity, mentions of smut, reader is Shy and introverted, hinted anxiety. 

N/A: I didn’t mean for it to be longer than a few paragraphs but I was having fun with it. Not Beta’d, I die on my mistakes like August slipping of a cliff, getting a hook in the head and falling into an explosion.

Please reblog with comments if you enjoyed my work 🖤

The Model

Thursday evenings were your little escape from reality. A new girl in a sleepy town, you haven't had much of a chance to make any friends yet, or maybe it was that you didn't quite know how to. 

Never being an extroverted person, you hardly hung out with others, and even work outings made you feel somewhat estranged. However, this little art class you found became the closest to social you ever felt. Most people who attended the workshop were just as timid as you found yourself to be, making conversation less intimidating and overwhelming as it tended to be.

Like every Thursday, you made your way down the stuffy basement where your class took place. It appeared like every ordinary evening, at first; your classmates greeted you with a nod and a smile and then returned to scrolling their phones while waiting for the teacher.  

Yet something strange waved in the atmosphere. Aside from the scent of oil, acrylics and cheap coffee, a certain earthy muskiness hunkered in the air, an aroma that reminded you of lush green forests full of fertile soil.  

Briefly, you inhaled the air and took your seat by the easel, just in time for the teacher to clap her hands to gather everyone's attention. 

"Thanks, everyone who joined us on this breezy summer eve," she breathed with her usual thin smile; though observant as you were, you caught a hint of red tinting her cheeks.

Fixing her hair, she chuckled, "as discussed last week, you will be practising a living nude model for the next couple of hours, and I have brought you quite the specimen."

Sneakers and whispering soon filled the room. Clueless, you turned your head from side to side, watching both men and women as they chattered lowly. Perking your ears, you managed to catch some of the mumbles.

"I think it's him..."

"I saw him on Instagram!"

"Oh my god, I don't know how I can handle seeing him naked!" 

While you wondered whom they were speaking of so enthusiastically, the door behind the teacher opened up slowly, making all chatter die at once.

Maybe the air suddenly grew thicker, or your lungs decided to grow heavy because, for a passing moment, you found it hard to breathe. You recognised him from your Instagram feed immediately - the Bull of Austin, the man who made half of the internet go crazy for his thirsty snaps. 

He was even taller than what he looked like in his photos and the type of handsome that makes people make foolish mistakes.

Standing in a ragged robe, Syverson's eyes made a quick scan of the room while the teacher spoke of what you were to do in the next 90 minutes. Though her speech was buried under the drumming in your ears as Syverson's glare briefly met yours. 

There was a hint of a smile there, you thought, beaming in his ocean-blue gaze, but you dropped your eyes to the floor before you could make a thing of it as you felt your cheeks starting to burn under his sight. 

'Don't be a child!' You rebuked. It was probably just in your mind, and you were sure that others were convinced he was smirking at them as well. 

You lifted your eyes again, just in time to witness the robe slip off his shoulder and pile by his feet. 

Tiny little hairs stood on your arms as you shivered and unbidden, your thighs clenched. A master Sculptor must have crafted the man who stood naked before you; he was perfect and flawed at once. A man muscular with skin kissed by the Texan sun and dust of feral dark hair that covered his taut torso. 

Naturally, your eyes followed the thick trail that descended his groin. As the size of his cock fully resonated in your mind, you battled a shuddering exhale that threatened to escape your quivering lips.

The worst of it was that he was flaccid, and you couldn't help but ask yourself how large he would be when thick with desire. Not that you were ever to find out. 

Confident, Syverson stood in the pose of Bartolomeo's Neptune, both his ragged face and manhood appearing proud at the sound of pencils sketching on canvas. A man like him must have enjoyed being worshipped; it was quite apparent from his Instagram account and the photos he posted. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you breathed in deeply and cursed yourself for choosing a seat so conveniently close and at the corner of his eye. But then you forced yourself to be mature and, with another inhale, began sketching.

You did best to avoid staring at his face, trying to remember the technique the teacher taught you while she meandered around the class, observing the students' work. 

But there was something about him, something wild and almost ethereal. You swore you could hear it, calling by your name, whispering dirty little secrets of how this man would take away from this class on his heavy motorcycle and in a dark alleyway claim your body as his toy.

Drifting into fantasies, you imagined what it would be like to dig your nails into his sturdy back and feel the flesh tear beneath your scratch as he pounds you against the musty brick wall.  

These thoughts solely have made you soak through your panties, and chewing your bottom lip, you couldn't help but grind your thighs together to relieve the tension that throbbed heavily at your little cove. 

It was but a short lapse of mind. Your head must have been disoriented as you clenched on the little stool, but then you heard that voice calling you again, and when you lifted your head to glance at Syverson once again, you felt cold sweat cover your entire body. 

With a hungry smirk in his eyes, he raked you, watching you move on your chair like a sultry nymph. And just as you thought it couldn't get any worse, he offered you a wink.  

Never in your life did you packed your belonging and escaped a classroom in such speed and manner. Rushing through the stairs, you wanted to scream and cry at the same time but knew you would have to wait until you make it home or at least find a secluded area.

'Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!' You cursed, relieved to feel the cool August air caressing your face as finally, you made it to the street. 

Hurrying toward the bus, you shot your head over your shoulder as if to make sure you weren't being followed though it was pretty obvious - the most embarrassing moment in your life was nothing but another regular day for a man like Sy. 

You hoped you'll never see him again.

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

Disclaimer: I don’t own Sand Castle of Captain Syverson

[switchbladedreamz]

Home

Gonna say Sy's first name is gonna be Lucas/Luke

Captain Syverson x Fem!reader, fluuuuuuuffff

I'm from Oklahoma, and this is how we talk, and it's how Texans talk. I see authors trying their best to capture the southern vernacular and I applaud you- y'all're welcome to use this as a guide.

Apostrophes and italics: 'hnnngh' is thoughts. Regular dialogue uses the usual quotations " "

Spoiler: reader nor Sy like children.

Summary : Sy and reader served together, she enlisted bc she was kicked out of her home. When for the first time in four years she's off duty, she asks her captain if he knows somewhere she can stay since until she finds one in her own state, she doesn't wanna stay in Texas for too long. She's an Oklahoman, and as every Okie will tell ya for no reason Texas is stupid.

A/N: we are born with a slight hatred of Texas in our blood for some reason.

Homelessness among Veterans isn't something to joke about, if you would like to help go to www.woundedwarriorproject.org/veterans/charity

***I, the author, do not consent to stealing, plagiarism, or posting any of my work anywhere unless done so by myself***

Luke woke with a grunt as he heard his bedroom door open and a voice cooing to him. "Hey sleepyhead, I made your bean soup, please wake up". Rubbing the sleep and sandman trails put of his eyes- he rolled over looking at the owner of said voice. "The fuck is bean soup?" The baritone of his voice lower due to sleep, "bean soup?" He grumbled in a whisper.

"Coffee. Up. Please. I'm bored.". He smiled and finally sat up. He caught the way his friend was trying to secretly look at his torso. So he decided to stretch his arms above him and lean back at the same time, a yawn escaping. 'Damn that felt good' he thought to himself but when his eyes opened she was gone, though he could hear her piddlin around in the kitchen. He slipped a shirt and some shorts on to meander his way to the kitchen. "Mmh. Bacon, thank you but you don't have to cook (Y/n)". She looked up at him with the most genuine emotion in her eyes.

"I really wanna thank you sir. If it wasn't for you offering your place, I'd probably end up being another statistic." His heart clenched, he could see her fighting back tears as she flipped the bacon in the pan. "Hey now, its Luke or Sy. Not sir, not when we're home, on American soil. And you don't have to thank me. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, kid. You've literally taken two bullets for me. I'll help ya find a nice place, maybe here in Texas" he prodded. He'd grown fond of his second in command these past few weeks. And everyday she cooked, helped clean, offered to pay for anything and everything. It was getting on his nerves but in a good way. She rolled her eyes when he mentioned her living in Texas. "Sir- I mean Sy... how do you like your eggs?" Evasive maneuvers, that's how the morning is going to go, alright then. A grunt left him, "over medium darlin" "you got it hun".

To city slickers, they would think that these two attractive adults are flirting, but that's really how southerners talk. They can't speak a word without a pet name in the sentence.

"Damn it woman, can't you just shut up and let me tell you how great this state is?" Sy was driving, (Y/n) in the passenger seat. She was laughing her ass off. "Look, I can't (pronounced like "cane-t") help it is okies are born with a hatred for Texas." "Well that ain't my fuckin problem, now listen. Oklahoma is shit, it's the last in education, in the top 5 for allergies, and all your favorite musicians come to Texas." "That's all you got, ain't it?". As he slows and stops to a red light he looks out the window for a beat, turns back to her and starts laughing. "Yes ma'am, that's all I got". Her laughter turned from giggles to uproarious, him joining her. The neighboring Subaru driver looked at them with disdain. That didn't help the case either. He turned into your favorite ice cream place, "I've had the gourmet shit across the pond, and the fancy shit here. But fuck don't nothin taste better than Braum's. The taste of home.".

P.o.v. switching

I smiled. This man is my best friend. "Honestly, though." I replied, holding the door open for him. He lifted his arm above my head onto the door, essentially jutting his giant armpit in my face- "After you". I refused and stood my ground. "No no, I insist. Ladies first" i smiled. He just shoved me through the door "girl if you don't get your butt in there". More giggles from us. It was noon on a Sunday so of course it was busy. "Damn this place is packed, we can go somewhere else-" I spoke, "nonsense, I love this place too. We can wait out these old folks and the kids.." after he said that a kid screamed. Which led to a horrendous domino effect of seemingly every infant and toddler screaming. "Nope" we said in unison and turned around.

Sy couldn't sleep. He had tossed and turned but the memories were getting bad. He was sweating. He had tried his grounding techniques, a cold shower, breathing techniques, it didn't help. It was difficult. His door creaked softly, Luke reacted quickly by grabbing the gun under his opposite pillow and aimed. "At ease hun. Just me. Your tossing and turning kept me up..." she trailed off but he could see the sweat and the way her chest was heaving though she tried to calm down- to hide it. "May...may I?" She queried, pointing to the opposite side of the bed. He stared at her for a few seconds too long and she let out a nervous laugh and turned around. "Wait. Yes. You may. I'll put this in the nightstand.". Meaning the gun, she smiled softly and nodded in acknowledgment. She crawled into his white sheets, nestled her head on his navy blue pillow and under the blue and white comforter.

P.o.v. switching

By the Gods did his sheets smell nice, he smells nice. Like a human should, not dirty and perspiring like a whore in church. (Its a common phrase here, I'm not slut shaming). I couldn't sleep either, the pharmacy wouldn't have my meds for another week. I would be lieing if I said I hadn't thoroughly enjoyed my time here. Its clean, homey, the guest room is nice and cozy. And I think I want to live here. 'What the fuck was that? What did I just say? Yeah totally gonna file that away for now. It's not like I like-like him or anything. Skipping over that too' I looked over at Syv- Luke, nope that's weird, Syverson. He was staring at the ceiling. "Well this totally isn't awkward with us both laying like boards. We're adults. And adults can sleep in the same bed and uh.. yeah." "Yeah..." he agreed. Well at least we're on the same page. "So..can't sleep". A very exasperated sigh was what I was met with for an answer.

"Right". "Wish you weren't so fuckin awkward bud" "Me too Sy. Me too".

"Just memories is all." "Same here. Heh."

A pregnant pause interjected itself between us. Until he rolled over to face me. He smacked his lips "nevermind" and rolled back on to his back. Oh hell no, I hate that. "What?" I asked and rolled to my side. "What?" He asked. This mother... "Don't "what" me, I asked first what were you gonna say?". He didn't answer. "Come on, that's like my second biggest pet peeve. What is it?".

"Would you want to move in with me?". Woah. Okay. This is happening fast, did he read my thoughts? I think I took too long to answer. He grumbled, always grumbling, this one. "If you're offering. Yeah I wouldn't mind. What made it cross your mind?". "Well i like having you around, I'm not suggesting anything other than being roommates. I mean you help keep the place up, and you're a good house guest. And with wages going up, that means the cost of living is going to up and it'd be alright to have this place to split with someone. And you're not a civilian per se-" "uh oh you're using fancy words there cap", he chuckled "fuck off. What I'm saying is, we get each other, we get along great and we know how to handle it if we have a ptsd induced panic attack.". "Wow. Woah, okay. So this is serious, yeah of course. Thank you." I scooch closer to hug him. And then the dam breaks and I start crying.

He just soothes me, "it's okay darlin, I know, I know. You're home".

A home. I haven't had one in years. I'm home.