#business mapping in texas

[dudeshusband]

i made the jail from rio bravo in the sims

[kedsandtubesocks]

your heart, a sonnet

Author!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: you discover there’s more to your boyfriend than you realize

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, surprise hidden identity reveal, grumpy but soft!Joel who has a secret love language of writing and love letters, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s), light discussion of reader and Joel’s insecurities, reader is addressed as darlin/honey/baby, a few spicy moments where Joel gets handsy

word count: 5.3k

a/n: I know, I know… this doesn’t seem like the typical Joel fic but i blame Pedro’s look at the Hollywood star walk of fame ceremony because it immediately made me think ‘oh that’s Joel’ and now here we are lol I couldn’t have done this without my forever babe @the-wild-wolves-around-you and i can’t thank her enough along with @ahauntedcowboy for always letting me scream about all my wild ideas, and now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You first met Joel at a bookstore.

The weekend after your birthday you went in to treat yourself and wandered into the records section of the store. As you flipped through the selections, the sudden sight of a Fleetwood Mac album had you inhaling sharply in surprise.

“S’good one.” That’s when the sudden smooth drawl of a southern accent floated out to you.

A few steps beside you stood an absolutely gorgeous man. The evergreen plaid button up shirt he wore flattered him as if it was made to be only worn by him. Rugged and distinguished, he seemed like a romance hero plucked straight out from one of the books among the shelves. You even blinked a few times wondering if he was real.

“If you don’t take it, might have to fight ya for it.” Even with his gruff low voice, an underlying teasing nature radiated friendly and light.

Now, many months later, a piece of you believes you might have fallen for him right then and there.

Joel is a rare beautiful soul of a man. He’s strong and a bit rough around the edges. He used to work as a contractor, even managed to build a very reputable business with his brother. His hard work remains effortlessly etched into his hands that now type editing books, his current job. He’s kind, so deeply loyal and loves fiercely.

With a yawn, you slip out of bed to pull on his cozy Texas longhorn shirt.

Heading downstairs, you walk among the clouds.

Instead of working at his office desk, Joel sits at the dining table typing away. Just seeing him wear his reading glasses sends a delicious desire trickling through you like a soft rain.

His dark earth eyes flicker up over the edge of his laptop and his gaze softens.

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna wake up.” His wonderfully smooth as molasses voice makes you want to get caught up in its sticky sweetness.

“It’s not even that late. You’re one who woke up wanting to get work done on a Saturday.” You scoff playfully yet press your lips to his, a soft good morning greeting.

“Besides…who’s the reason I slept in so soundly, hm?” You smile against Joel’s lips that now twitch with a smirk.

His large warm hand slowly creeps up against your bare leg and rubs soft against your skin. After a few sleepy kisses, Joel’s tongue smoothly slips into your mouth trying to now consume you with a syrupy heat.

Joel pulls you down onto his lap. Your hands run up his chest to his cherub curly gray hair. His lips leave yours to start nipping at your jaw.

“What happened to working, cowboy?” You sigh softly.

“Come keep me company, darlin’.” He breathes out and any hope of maybe making breakfast is happily forgotten.

The rest of the morning unfolds at a nebulous pace you bask in.

When a late brunch is finished and you start cleaning up the kitchen, Joel’s warm solid hands map out your hips with other plans in mind. He slides behind you, a towering comfort that you lean back against.

“You’re extra handsy today Mr. Miller.” You tease.

“I can stop?” Joel offers while his scruffy beard scrapes a path against your skin. Against you, his broad shoulders, his wonderfully built frame, wraps you in his protective cover.

You hum a content no and move your hands over his now.

“Just wanna enjoy being with ya before I get busy.” Joel mutters while his hand slides down your cozy lounge shorts.

You had forgotten about his upcoming work plans.

You already want to mourn the impending weekend without him, but that can wait for another day. Especially when his thick fingers delicately, so sinfully, run up and down your underwear playfully touching you.

But then that weekend arrives and it brings a hollowness.

Lounging on the couch back at the apartment you share with your best friend, you force yourself not to text Joel again. He’s busy and you know this. So you vow to hold all your yearning and longing chained inside like a Jane Austen heroine.

“Are you done sulking?” Your best friend teases from the kitchen and you glare at her from the couch.

“I get it, being awake from your hunky handsome older boyfriend is hard. What will you ever do?” She snickers playfully. You’re tempted to throw the nearby couch pillows at her.

“What did you say his job was?” She asks.

“He used to be a contractor, but now he’s a book editor.” You answer.

“A hardworking hot Texas cowboy who reads and is a good man? Yeah, keep him locked up.” Your best snorts and you understand exactly what she means.

Fanged temptation claws at you more to text him again. Joel promised he would call you tonight and you don’t doubt him. But you didn’t realize how badly you’d missed him.

“Alright,” your best friend declares. “No more moping! I’m dragging you out with me to that book signing I’ve been talking about.”

She’s been obsessed with this apocalyptic novel series for so long. You happily tag along and even perk up when you see how excited she gets.

“And the author is finally doing a book tour! He’s kept his identity hidden this entire time so I wanna get a chance to maybe just even see him!” Your best friend gushes the entire time she drives you both to the bookstore the signing would be held.

Just so happens it’s the same bookstore where you first met Joel. A deep surge of affection swallows you whole and you float on blissful lovesick nostalgia.

Then the impressive line already waiting outside the front doors stuns you.

“I told you! It’s a big deal! Plus the series is so good.” Your best friend exclaims. She has been trying to get you into the series for a while.

The core of it focuses on two young girls who manage to survive an apocalyptic fungal zombie outbreak. The series follows the girls growing up, the journey to live with each other, and how it slowly bonds them as sisters.

“I heard they’re trying to make a Netflix series on it.” Your friend adds hopeful.

You can’t help but snag your best friend’s book copy she also hopes will get signed. Flipping through the front pages you land to the dedication page.

“To my baby girls, this will always be for you two.”

The author must have based the series on their daughters. That’s adorable.

Now curious, you flip to the first chapter.

“After seeing the end of the world, after witnessing the carnage of life consume itself, Ellie thinks she’s seen it all.”

Your best friend's sudden excited laugh pulls you out of the book. She’s talking with the other fans in line and you decide to join in.

Everyone discusses how worth the wait will be and how most of them even purchased the newest released book to make sure they reserved a slot for the signing.

“So why’s the author finally doing a face reveal?” You ask quietly not wanting to seem too out of place.

“So apparently,” your best friend begins in her hush about to spill the good gossip voice. “Some random ass moron on Twitter came out and said they were the true author. It became a whole messy issue of who it really was.”

Your best friend goes into more detail about how even a couple of online sites had articles on it.

“That’s awful.” You sympathize with the author. It must’ve been a headache trying to enjoy the peace of anonymity only for it becoming something used against them. You can only imagine how heartbreaking it was to see others steal and take credit for your work.

Like a surprise strike of lightning, an electric excitement suddenly breaks through the air.

Glancing up, you watch the line rapidly move towards the front doors. Time to go in.

Unfortunately, the main seating for the reading and q&a fills up fast. The bookstore though manages to wrangle the remainder of the crowd that can fit on the first floor towards a section where they can watch. It’s more than enough for your best friend who’s about to burst with anticipation. The buoyant commotion in the room even pulls you into its current and you get excited to see the new surprise author.

Soon a chic handsome older looking man, the moderator of the event, scurries to the front of the gathered group.

Warmly he begins the introduction to the writer.

First, writing sweet children’s books, stories for his daughters, those works became the author’s first publications. After that he navigated apocalyptic writing and his hit series has earned critical acclaim.

“Simply known as the anonymous writer J Miller. I’ve had the greatest pleasure to know this man as both his friend and now agent and I’m beyond proud to introduce him to you. Everyone please help me in welcoming J Miller!”

The thunderous applause and screams of excitement galvanize the entire room.

Then Joel walks out from the side.

Your heart instantly leaves your body.

For a moment you think your lovesick yearning heart has you slightly projecting Joel in any man you might see.

But the minute you focus, truly watch him slide into the chair, you see him.

Soft gray grown out curls, a strong beautiful nose, the patchy beard with the spots you love to kiss, and his reading glasses - the ones he’s so self conscious about because of how they make him look “so good damn old,” yet you love how they distinguish and elevate his appearance. You even remember the first time Joel wore them while he read waiting for you.

Truth makes its way into your heart.

It’s Joel.

The famous mystery author is your Joel.

“Thanks Frank.” And when he takes the mic, thanking his agent, his slick southern sunset voice melts the crowd.

“So, uh he’s gorgeous?!” Someone behind you squeals.

“Who would’ve thought he’d be this hot?!” Someone adds.

The whispers and mummers swarm like wasps buzzing all around you and you want to swat at them.

You can’t wrap your mind around this or the amount of emotions rushing through you. You feel separated from your body, floating detached from the scene and trying to gather yourself back.

Why didn’t he tell you?

Did he not trust you?

Joel suddenly laughs at something Frank says, that gruff wonderful laugh you hear after you show him a ridiculous video or his daughters tease him. It snaps you back into awareness.

“He’s about to read a section!” Your friend giddily whispers under her breath

Now you fully focus on this man, this almost stranger.

He’s so handsome it isn’t fair. He looks like a distinguished professor and your throat tightens seeing how broad his shoulders look in the dark casual suit jacket he wears.

“One of my favorite parts.” He admits quietly. “It’s when Ellie and Sarah realize they can make it outta Pittsburgh together.”

His daughters. He named his characters after them.

Joel clears his throat and begins.

He reads the passage with a magnetic cadence. The words slip from him like the smooth drink of whiskey that lingers on your tongue. When he finishes, an ache twists in your chest.

The applause he gets is shatteringly loud. The smallest bit of pride does float through you. But confusion drowns it out.

The floor now opens to quick questions. Some are about the book itself and the certain decisions made writing wise. Others are obviously about why he stayed hidden for so long.

That one perks you up quickly.

In such typical Joel fashion, he shrugs.

“Just couldn’t figure out Twitter, s’all.”

Everyone laughs at his playful reply and you do as well, but it sounds hollow and watery.

Soon enough the last question arrives.

“Do you ever see yourself writing for any other genres? I mean, we’ve seen horror and some moments of romance in the series. So I’m just curious if you’d write anything else?!” The lady asks brightly and now you simply settle your thoughts aside to listen.

Joel chuckes, a bit breathless and his gaze drops. This entire time he’s teetered between a sly southern charm that’s hypnotized you, to being guarded almost a bit nervous.

But now a boyishly hesitant grin falls over him and it’s so familiar.

”Uh, guess romance would be the next I’d maybe try.” He answers low, bashful.

The crowd erupts into fangirl like shrieks.

“Right?! I keep saying he doesn’t know the potential he has if he became a romance writer!” Frank, who has such a bright and lovely personality, adds.

Too many emotions clash in you.

You wonder if he wants to explore romance writing because of you?

Or a much harsher voice creeps out from the back of your mind whispering maybe you’re just being used for source material.

You quickly stomp those thoughts away.

The rest of the event shifts to the signing and you walk in a sort of guided daze.

“You okay?” Your best friend asks gently, noticing your slight mood change.

You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth yet. This was something she had been looking forward to and you didn’t want to ruin her excitement or experience. So you wearily just smile and tell her your head simply started hurting.

She sympathetically nods.

“Thankfully we won’t be waiting too long.” She adds and explains how the signing would be called by groups.

“We might not have gotten seats, but we did manage to sneak into group A for the signing.” She grins proud and it lifts your spirits.

The line curls against the sides of the bookshelves blocking your view of Joel. It becomes both a blessing and a curse.

Maybe you should wait in the car for his and your sake?

However, something inside you slightly bitter, raw and wanting answers, decides to stay. Besides you, your dear friend tries to keep herself calm but you can sense her bubbling nervous energy.

“I’d be calmer if he wasn’t so damn attractive.” She hisses and a jealous flare gently rises in you.

“Just think,” you reassure her. “He’s probably just as nervous as you.”

The relieved comforted grin she gives you makes staying worth it. But then all of that flies out the window the closer and closer you get to Joel.

Petrified dread claws its way in when you realize your best friend is next in line.

“He looks kinda familiar now that we’re closer.” The casual comment your friend says makes your heart sink.

“Maybe.” You mutter.

The times Joel has been to your place your roommate, your best friend, has been either at work or sleeping. You can only think of the first instant you introduce Joel to her when he picked you up on a date.

Your eyes flicker straight to Joel.

His hair seems so perfectly curled and his dark jacket highlights his wonderful grays.

Thankfully, any discussion of who he might look like gets squashed because your best friend gets called next in line. She turns to you squeaking excitedly and you beam back bright.

Joel lifts his eyes up, like a true southern gentleman wanting to give someone his full attention.

You wait on the side and watch the interaction unfold. Joel chuckles at something your best friend says and you’re glad she’s enjoying herself.

The book signing is done so fast. In a blink, it’s finished. With her newly signed book, your friend turns to you. She makes a slightly embarrassing but endearing noise of excitement that has you laughing.

That’s when your eyes flicker over to Joel and your gaze locks with his.

Instantly, Joel’s handsome face drops. His gorgeous earth eyes widen as he immediately recognizes you. His mouth falls open slightly and a flash of something close to fear fills the depths of his eyes.

He breathes out your name on a shaky exhale.

Everything seems to slow and stop. You don’t know what to say. So all you do is weakly smile.

The fleeting moment fades. The next group in line already giggles moving towards the table.

Time’s up. Turning on your heels to leave with your friend, Joel calls out to you, calls your name.

“Wait!”

You freeze.

Glancing back at him, Joel’s eyes pin you on the spot. An unspoken heaviness hangs in his deep eyes while he stares intently at you.

“It’s okay, we’ll talk later.” By some strange possession of slight bravery, or maybe delusion, you manage to speak.

But it’s all you can say and it’s all you can do before Frank, Joel’s agent, slides in to whisper something to him.

The moment again shatters.

Your best friend however grills you the rest of the day

That’s when you pull out your phone. You show her a photo you secretly took of Joel. It’s one where he’s adorably glaring at his ipad while he tried ordering take out for dinner.

Your best friend shrieks. “He’s your boyfriend?!”

He is.

Your boyfriend, Joel, is a writer, a very famous best selling author.

And that weight yanks you under a dangerous current you can’t seem to swim against.

Even after lunch, even getting back to your apartment and trying to settle your thoughts, your emotions are still so tangled.

You mindlessly scroll through your phone for the rest of the day and a blink, you notice it’s already early evening. Your plan to stay sulking is ruined when your phone starts ringing so loud.

It’s Joel.

“Hello?” You answer as composed as you can.

“Darlin?” His beautiful rich voice sounds hesitant and guarded.

“Hi.” You reply back quietly.

“Can we talk?” He asks just as low.

You agree, expecting to have the discussion on the phone. Except a knock taps on your apartment door and scares you right out of your body.

Ever proactive, ever the man who takes action, Joel stands waiting for you when you open the door.

You’re thankful more than ever that your best friend went to the gym for the evening.

“Wanna sit outside for a bit? Maybe get some air? S’really nice outside today.” He offers gentle.

He’s breaking up with you. That’s what your mind jumps to.

At least the weather is surprisingly kind this early evening.

You’ve sat out here on your apartment’s decent sized balcony with Joel before. But now the energy between you and him shifts strangely.

The sky stretches above a soft sherbet orange. A breeze comes, thankfully not too cold, but you think about maybe heading in to grab a blanket.

Joel however quickly slings off his jacket and drapes it over you. Always the gentleman.

The smell of his cologne, so comforting and masculine, wraps around you like a cloud.

You thank him with a soft small smile and Joel nods. Then he sighs and leans forward on the folding chair.

“Always loved the outdoors.” He begins, a small olive branch of a conversation to break the tension. “The girls and I love hiking the trails out by the lake. You ever been?”

You shake your head no.

“Maybe one day we can all go together.” The comment holds hope, a delicate thread of it. Yet you catch the hesitation.

Your eyes flicker to him, confused and cautious.

“Wait, you aren’t breaking up with me?” You blurt out, maybe just wanting to get it over with. You hate the way your voice cracks slightly.

Joel, with his beautiful concerned wide eyes, snaps his face to you.

“What? Honey no. Thought maybe you’d be the one maybe tryin’ to break up with me.” Joel, who Sarah jokes about how some of their neighbors question if he’s perpetually grumpy, stares at you with a tenderness that melts you to your core.

You can’t help but laugh watery.

“Why d’ya think I’d want to end things with you?” He asks patiently.

You can think of so many.

He’s a famous writer who’s about to maybe become an online sensation. He’s older than you, wiser and seasoned. He’s a full on father with young teenage daughters.

So you reveal your heart to him and all the fears that dwell in its shadows. You wipe away a few tears that manage to spill out.

Joel moves to hold your hands in his, a guarded warmth and protection keeping you stable.

With a heavy sigh, Joel’s attention fully focused on you.

“Honey…I’m so sorry for not telling you about my work, about me, sooner.” He earnestly apologizes and his words drip with comforing earnesty.

Now his gaze drops down to where your hand sits in his.

“Didn’t want it complicatin’ things with us. I knew I had to tell you eventually. But really…I was worried you’d see me differently once you knew. I know I don’t seem like the writin’ type anyway.” He mutters and you miss the hint of embarrassment coloring his tone.

You squeeze his hands.

This could never make you look at Joel in a negative light. If anything, you now feel proud knowing he’s a writer. You do explain your worries though and the ache you felt knowing he kept his from you.

“I know darlin’ and I promise,” he squeezes your hands now. “No more secrets between us.”

“You…us…means more to me than you’ll know.” He adds and you draw his hands up to your mouth.

You kiss his worn hands, his hard working beautiful hands that now move to hold your face so tenderly in their grasp. His thumb strokes your bottom lip delicately as if you’ll disappear from his sight.

“Can I kiss ya baby?”

You nod and in that same breath Joel pulls you towards him. He kisses you light, delicate enough that you feel so precious and treasured within his hold.

It seems like such a simple small kiss but it soaks into your bones.

You have so many questions. And as much as you’d like to make out with your boyfriend on the balcony, you’d like answers.

So you pull away and stand up.

Joel looks adorable as confusion paints his face.

“Don’t worry I’m just getting us a blanket.” You grin at him as you sling on his jacket claiming it as your own.

Blanket in hand you now curl up with him in the lawn chair, thankful for its sturdiness and cozy size. Your heart soars at how quickly Joel pulls you into his arms and basically onto his lap.

It feels like it’s been months since you’ve last been with him, or maybe that’s just how exhausting today was.

Joel sighs content and pleased once you fully rest against him. Hesitantly you ask if it’s okay if you can talk about him, about his work.

“Ask away honey. I’ll tell ya everything n’ anything.” He says firm.

You grin and your thumb starts stroking the back of his hand.

“So what made you decide to reveal yourself now? I heard there was an issue about someone saying they were you?” You ask, thinking of the discussions earlier with your best friend.

“Yeah..” Joel now sighs tired with an ancient weariness that settles over his handsome face.

“Sarah was the one who saw it first on Twitter or wherever it was.” He adds with a grumble.

Your heart aches knowing one of the girls saw it first.

“Didn’t help either that I ain’t online. So it became a whole fuckin’ mess we had to deal with it a couple months back.”

A light bulb goes off inside your brain.

“Was that when you said you had to visit a family friend out of town?” You connect the dots.

“Yup.” Joel nods. “Went to visit Frank, my agent, to try and figure this shit out. Could’ve let it all maybe die down but… ya know.” He huffs and you understand completely.

Joel is too stubborn, a bit too prideful. You almost snort amused just over the thought of him trying to let the situation blow over.

“Frank wants to meet ya by the way.” Now his voice dips with a bashful tone while his hands begin softly stroking your thighs.

“I’d love to meet him too.” You truthfully tell Joel.

“So, are you going to be online now? Should I start making secret accounts to follow you?” You now tease and Joel barks a beautiful amused laugh.

“Baby, I’m over 50. The only apps I need on my phone are candy crush and ESPN. Ain’t got the time or patience for social medias.”

Now you’re the one laughing.

It feels freeing, blissful, like this is the first moment you’re spending time with him all over again. Yet, there’s a deeper sacred connection that settles.

You can’t help but kiss him again and Joel eagerly welcomes you on his lips.

Now his lips move fervently, almost possessively, against yours, licking and trying to consume you. A small moan squeaks out of you.

“Come on baby,” he mutters, shifting you against his lap so that you fully feel his hardness straining against his pants. “Wanna taste ya.”

You’re thankful you manage to drag him back inside because you can’t imagine getting intimate with Joel on the balcony. Well, at least not yet. But that was a thought for another day.

Now in the afterglow’s soft relaxing peace you wish for more time with him.

But Joel must sense that ache too.

“S’late honey. Come back home with me. Even if it’s just for the night.” He mutters against your lips and you can’t deny him. You don’t want to deny him or the aching tug pulling you to him.

That night you fully embrace every inch of the man Joel Miller is and let a dizzying adoration for him swallow you whole.

The next morning, in the soft early still dark shade of his room, Joel wakes you with a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Gotta go meet with Frank for the day. I’ll see ya later, honey.” He mutters against your cozy heated skin.

You hum a soft agreement and sleepily wish him a goodbye before falling back to sleep. After that, you wake up later to a colder and empty bed.

Tugging on another one of Joel’s shirts you head downstairs already missing his presence.

And when you get downstairs, there on the table sits the most gorgeous floral arrangement. Its beautiful vibrant blooms make your heart flutter so fast against its cage.

A folded paper sits beside the flowers. Your name is written on the front in Joel’s slightly chicken scratch like handwriting.

You scramble fast to grab it.

A letter, he’s written you a letter.

“Honey,

I know I’ve already apologized and you’ve forgiven my old undeserving ass.”

You snort at that line but continue on.

“But I just wanted to fully apologize to you again. Might take me a while until I stop, but just be patient with my old bones yeah?”

You would. Your heart would and will always wait for him.

“Doesn’t seem like it but, I aint that good at talking about things, about my feelings. Shocker right?”

You smirk. You know he isn’t good with words - that’s why it almost feels ironic and a bit unreal that he’s an author.

You’ve discovered Joel shows his affection through his actions.

He spent an entire day rearranging a business scheduling conflict just so that Tommy didn’t have to worry about it. Joel never missed a single one of Ellie’s basketball games. Sarah only prefers a certain type of orange juice and Joel never fails to only get that one.

The first few weeks you started dating Joel you got sick with a nasty cold. He dropped off a whole bag of various items like tissues and cough drops. It was then you knew his heart shines through his actions.

He sometimes surprises you with an order from your favorite take out spot. He never lets you touch a door, always opening them for you instead. He’s the most generous lover and never fails to remind you of how tender, how consuming, his passion can be.

Joel does grumble, sometimes even seems grouchy, but he loves fiercely.

And now here he is showing you this side of him, this form of himself as a writer.

So you return to reading his letter.

“I got into writing because it helped me process all my emotions, my thoughts, the good and bad days - everything. And sharing my writing with others, especially with someone as important as you, still makes me feel so vulnerable. Funny how that worked out though huh? Guess fate wanted to drag my ass and make me face my fears and vulnerability and whatnot.”

Someone as important as you - The line makes your heart flutter.

“I know I told you the reasons why I didn’t tell you. But another reason was because I was afraid.

I was afraid of how much you mean to me. Telling you about this part of me would be taking a bigger step. And it scared me shitless. Cause darlin’ I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. Like, as Ellie loves to say, in such a long time that ‘dinosaurs weren’t even fossils.’

That makes you laugh a bit watery but you let his words carry you again.

“You make my damn heart race when you smile. I get so worked up just seeing you walk around my house as if you were always meant to be here. And I didn't want to lose that either. I still don’t.

You feel like a bright future, like waking up after a cloudy week and the sun greets you so nicely. And I just wanna stay in that warmth, your warmth.

Yeah sorry, that line might be too romance novel writer for my league…but like I said I’m thinking about it. And it’s because of you.

We said no more secrets yeah?

So I’m not lying when I say you’ve become so god damn important to me. And I wanna see more days with you, as many as you’ll have with me.

Fuck. This damn letter already feels too long and I hate my old ass for rambling and maybe not making sense. But I adore you honey. Plain in simple.

And I’m just gonna leave it at that.

Don’t miss me too much and I’ll see you soon.

P.S I picked that bookstore as the tour’s first stop here because it’s where I met you… and I’ll always be grateful for that

-Joel”

You now fight back an absolute ocean’s worth of adoration for this man.

Tears clog your throat and you try not letting them flood your vision, but it’s so hard. So hard when you’re this head over heels.

You don’t want to say it yet, and you don’t know if he’s even ready to say it, but the emotion filling you like a newborn star feels like love.

You barely manage to send out a text thanking him and hoping you’ll get to talk to him soon.

Joel, ever the endearing man he is, replies back with a simple heart emoji and you laugh.

You really might love this man.

And you hope, you so brightly hope, that he maybe loves you too.

You think of his book series, of how he became a writer simply wanting to tell his daughters stories. Those stories grew out of his love for them and now he gets to crystallize that among his pages.

You realize how writing truly is its own form of love.

After all, what better way for a writer to show their love, their heart, than to capture you in their words?

You think that’s where writers must live now, in the heart. Or maybe - your maybe gruff handsome one just does. And you happily welcome Joel’s place in yours and hope he resides there forever like a love poem etched into your very soul.

[storieswithvenus]

Weather girl - Tyler Owen’s x Fem! Reader

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴

hey! sorry for taking so long off, i’ve been super busy and getting back into the swing of everything. hope you guys enjoy, it’s a bit of a rollercoaster;)

TW!!

use of y/n, reader and tyler being somewhat surprised by a tornado even though they are chasing it???, quick love confession cause i got tired lmao

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

As the cloud started to swirl, the one supercell storm now forming a small funnel, you stood watching from the beginning of the dirt path a mile away.

You stood there with your high definition camera, snapping away photos of the upcoming storm, just a few feet behind you stood Tyler Owen’s.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

You two had an unusual relationship, the two of you had grown up together. Frankly, he was your older brother’s best friend. Growing up together, you had always had some sort of tension, he had grown close to your older brother Mason in their sophomore year of school while you were a freshman. As they grew close, he was always at your house with Mason, either playing football in the back garden or playing video games in your brothers room while screaming at the screen.

You were a bit of a nerd, you knew from a young age that you wanted to work in something to do with the weather. So when you were trying to study the weather patterns around you and all you could hear was the screaming of your brother and Tyler, you did lose your mind. Stomping your way towards his room and slamming the door open, banging off the wall.

Both of them staring up at you with disbelief, watching as you throw one of your massive textbooks at them. The book smashing off the head of Tyler and as you reach for the handle of the door slamming it closed.

By the time you had graduated from university, you hadn’t been home to Texas in years. You hadn’t seen your family in years because you were too focused on your career, and it worked in your favour too.

“If we look towards the Joplin area here,” you say standing infront of the map which is covering the massive screen behind you, pointing towards that area, “you can see that there is a storm heading towards this area. Right now, it doesn’t look like anything too bad, however I will report back if it does gain the attributes to form a tornado that would touch down.” You carry on speaking before your cameraman gives you the thumbs up to finish so they can wrap up. “That’s it folks, please do keep checking the weather app for any possible updates! This is Y/N L/N signing off.”

You walk out of frame just as the director cuts. Walking straight over to your assistant who has your phone and a bottle of water waiting for you. “There’s been this number blowing your phone up, I haven’t answered of course - but they literally won’t stop phoning. I’m starting to think a fan has gotten your number.” Your assistant, Mark, says as you open the bottle of water and start drowning it to coat your throat. “There’s not much we can do if it is leaked, but i’ll check it out. You’re free to go home, I know your little ones are probably looking for you to come home” You say before leaning in to give him a hug, he thanks you profusely before running out the massive door to the carpark.

Looking down at your phone, you decide that you’re gonna phone the number back. You tap the number on your phone and put it up to your ear as it begins to ring. After 5 rings you consider hanging up, that was until you heard the number pick up.

“Hey! Is this Y/N?” the deep voice spoke after a few seconds of silence, “Hi! Uhm yeah this is she… Who is this? Why have you been spamming my phone?” You voice slightly breaking, confusion evident in your voice. “It’s.. uh-“ the voice on the phone stumbles, “It’s Tyler, you know Tyler Owen’s”.

Then it all clicked, the voice, the way he spoke, everything made sense. “Tyler, I haven’t heard from you in years..” your voice lower. “Yeah, listen, I see you on the news now, and well.. I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna join us for a few weeks storm chasing. So you can get your own experience.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

“Are you sure this is safe?” you screamed at him from the passenger side of the truck, your hands gripping onto the side of the chair. He looks at you with a little laugh, as he speeds up, watching you squirm in your seat. You turn to look out the front windscreen, just as you look, you see the massive tornado cross the dirt road in front of the truck.

Your head quickly turns to his as he speeds up towards the twister. “Tyler, are you fucking crazy?” You scream over the sound of the truck speeding down the dirt path, the sound of destruction coming from the tornado. Suddenly he turns the wheel to his left, the car turning sharply down another smaller path, your body being thrown to the left as you held on for dear life.

“We need to get in front of it before we deploy the rods to hold us into the ground”, his voice still drowned out with the noise around the car. Looking out the side window, you watch as the tornado seems to be standing still.

Panic fills your body, you feel the world go into slow motion. You know what’s coming. “Tyler, deploy the rods.” Your voice quiet, close to a whisper as you couldn’t take your eyes off the storm beside you. “What?”, he questions you, before looking over to see what you were saying. His eyes moving from you to out the window your eyes were glued to, his eyes widening at what the two of you were seeing.

The truck hauls to a stop, the two of you being slightly flung forward. His hand quickly slamming down on the red button in the middle of your two seats to deploy the rods into the dirt ground below the truck.

You finally come back to earth, turning to him as you feel the truck get closer to the ground, the rods securing you into the floor. Your hand reaches for his, intertwining, before you throw your head between your legs in a brace position. Tyler’s hand squeezes yours, a last sense of safety before the tornado hit the truck.

The force of the 90mph wind hits your side of the truck first, your mouth let out a scream as the violent shaking begins to cover the entire truck. The colour of the sky outside goes from a light grey to a dark grey, close to black, in seconds.

You hear smaller items of debris hitting all around the truck, a branch hitting the window with such force you thought the window would give out and crash in on top of you. With all of your focus on the storm now surrounding you, you didn’t realise you had began to cry. The tears streaming down your face as you hold your head down and cover it with your other hand incase of something breaking a window.

You feel the violent shakes begin to slow down, becoming more gentle. Your curiosity for the better of you, your head turning up to look out the front window screen. The storm had just passed you, all the trapped air in your lungs finally cleared as you let out the biggest sigh of relief.

You look over to Tyler, he was already watching you. His smile spreading across his face, “What did you think of that?” His voice full of cheekiness, giving you a slight wink.

And all you could do, was give him a slight laugh back.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

And that’s how you ended up here, watching the now EF1 cross the field in front of you. Taking your own photos of it, and just taking in the sight of mother nature.

You feel Tyler walk up behind you, his hand making contact with your lower back. Turning to look at him, you smile as he begins to speak, “Hey weather girl, did you get any good pictures?” You smile widens, turning your head to look down at your camera as you go through the pictures to pick your best one, “Yeah I did. Got this amazing one here”, you say in a soft voice, showing the small camera screen to him.

He reaches out to your camera, his hand touching yours, a spark of electricity connecting between you two. You both look up at each other, eyes connecting, both of you looking at each other with love.

“I’m glad you decided to stay with me and the team after what I put you through in our first week”, his voice was full of truth. Your hand lays on his arm, “I would never leave after that.”

“Can I kiss you?” Your eyes slightly widen at the question he sprung into you. He could tell he surprised you, just before he was about to apologise you pulled him in. Your hand laying on his jaw as you kissed him.

You slightly pull back to make eye contact, smiling at him. His voice soft and low,

“I have loved you ever since we were kids, ever since you threw that book at us.”

[rizlowwritessortof]

Swearing Is Caring

Second square for @jacklesverse-bingo 2024!

Written for Jacklesversebingo2024. Prompt for this one is 'drenched in sweat and blood but never looked hotter.' Hope you enjoy!

The last time Andi showed up on Russ's doorstep, he was more than happy to see her. This time is different. But he never could stay mad at her for long, and making up is the best part.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x OC (Andi)

Word Count: 3835

Warnings: Just a little smut and fluff, non-lethal injuries

Andi sat in the car outside the cabin, fingers clenched around the steering wheel as she expelled a tense breath between pursed lips. He was not going to be happy, but she had already decided it was worth it. He’d just have to deal with it.

She pried her fingers loose and got out of her car, loading her bag on one shoulder and heading for the door. She lifted her chin, then knocked briskly before stepping inside.

Russell came out of the next room, his gun held low at his hip, his entire body alert and aware. When his focus landed on her, his shoulders relaxed and he tucked his gun away with a frown. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Andi looked him in the eye. “Heard you were a man down. So I’m here to help.”

He tucked his gun away, shaking his head, his lips pressed into a straight line as he glared at her. “Goddammit, Andi. She called you, didn’t she.”

“Ann? Yeah, she called me. But this was my decision.”

“Well, I’m overruling your decision. Go home.” He turned his back to walk away, but he didn’t get far.

“I’m not leaving, Russ.”

He whirled to face her again, his eyes sparking with anger at her defiance. “You’re a fucking civilian. You’ve got no business getting involved in this.”

“She said one of the guys was out with an injury and your team was going in down a gun. I’m not letting you go in short when I’m this close. So deal with it, Russell. I’m not leaving. You can’t send me home, Horizon hired me for this job. Out of your hands, big man.”

She pushed her way by him, entering the next room where the rest of the team was gathered. “Andi?! Holy shit!” She grinned at the ebony-skinned giant who charged at her, pulling her off the floor in a bear hug. “Come here, baby girl! Damn, it’s good to see you!”

She was laughing as he set her down. “Hey, Sweets. Good to see you, too. Hey, Seeger,” she said to another former teammate, who gave her a one-armed hug and friendly smirk, returning her greeting.

Sweets shoved at the shoulder of the younger man beside him. “This is Conner.”

Andi smiled and nodded. “Hey, Conner. Nice to meet you.”

“Didn’t tell us Andi was comin’ with us, chief,” Sweets aimed at Russell, who was still glowering.

“Didn’t know. Now if the reunion is over, can we get back to business?” Russ turned his back on them, smoothing the map out flat on the large table. Sweets glanced at Andi, who rolled her eyes, earning her a smirk and a nod from the big man as they gathered around the table.

Russ went over the mission details, pointing out entry points, expected resistance and their plan of attack. “Our objective is to capture Salazar. End of story. They want him alive. So we do what we have to. We’re not looking to take anybody else in, and we do what we have to do to grab him and get him out of there. Horizon will handle clean-up, we just do our job and get the hell out.”

The team listened as he outlined the mission in a little more detail. “Salazar is a big dog in the cartel we’ve been targeting for the last year. He bought this little Texas hideaway to meet up with his mistress on the sly, and the intel is that he doesn’t normally bring too many men with him, likes to keep it on the down low. Horizon wants Salazar first, and DEA can have him when they’re done.”

After a couple of quiet questions and discussion, they separated to gear up. Andi pulled her vest from her bag and strapped it on, her eyes straying to Russ as he was doing the same. He hadn’t even looked at her since their first altercation, and she clenched her teeth with a sigh, forcing her emotions down as she finished getting ready. She’d fight with him later.

They loaded up into two jeeps, Andi crawling in the back of the one Russ was driving with Sweets in the passenger seat. It was a long, quiet drive, about 45 minutes to their destination, everyone tense and silent. Finally, Russ stated, “We’re about 5 minutes out,” and Andi steeled herself, focusing on the job ahead.

“Hey, Sweets – I don’t suppose…” she started, and he turned to her with a grin, reaching into a pocket and handing her a stick of her favorite cinnamon gum. “You never let me down, Sweets,” she smiled, and he nodded.

“I got your back, girl.”

Russ pulled the Jeep to a halt, putting it in park and shutting off the lights. “Okay, we’re on foot from here,” he said as the other vehicle pulled in behind him. They all piled out, Russ giving orders in a clear, quiet voice. “Sweets, you and Andi take the back, Seeger and I go in the front. Conner, you watch the perimeter. Everybody’s coms are good?” Everyone nodded. “Okay, let’s get this son of a bitch.”

The group moved almost silently, finally emerging through the trees on the south side of the large lake house. Russ moved in close to Andi, leaning to speak softly in her ear. “Be careful.”

“Always am,” she reassured him, then headed off with Sweets to the back of the house towards the lake.

Several minutes later all hell broke loose. Salazar hadn’t been meeting his mistress at the lake house this time around. He was meeting with his next-in-command, seven of them, and things got ugly.

Russell came into the hallway with Salazar in tow, held between him and Seeger, a bag over the prisoner’s head. Russ was swiping blood out of his eyes from a cut on his forehead, the result of an unfortunate meeting with the butt of a rifle. Three men lay dead or incapacitated behind them, and Seeger raised his gun to take out a fourth as they pushed towards the front door.

Sweets and Andi finished off a couple more men before rushing out the back door and heading around the building, guns at the ready in case any more cartel goons showed up. Her eyes had just landed on Russ’s bleeding face when a shot rang out from a nearby window, and she hit the ground hard. “Andi!” Sweets shouted, firing a shot at their assailant, and Russ stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide as he turned to look.

She raised her hand, groaning in pain, forcing out the words. “M’okay – hit my vest.”

“She’s okay!” Sweets called out, and Russ felt his heart start beating again.

“Conner! You and Seeger get him to the Jeep and let’s get the fuck out of here!” Russ ordered, heading to help Sweets get Andi to her feet. “Goddammit, Andi – can you walk?” he asked, and she nodded, wincing in pain, glad for their assistance as they hurried away from the house. They made it back through the trees and to the Jeeps, Seeger and Conner already backing out with Salazar tied down in the back seat. “Sweets, drive.”

He nodded and climbed behind the wheel, and Russ helped Andi into the back seat, sliding in beside her. “Sure you’re okay?” he asked as they pulled out, and she nodded, still grimacing in pain.

“Fuck, that hurts,” she managed, and he looked down, his frown deepening.

“If your vest took the hit, why are you bleeding?” He worked at the fastenings on her vest, clenching his teeth at her grunt of pain as she helped him remove it. The shoulder of her shirt was dark with blood, and Russ pulled out his knife, slicing from the sleeve to the neck of her shirt, pulling the front down and leaning over her so he could see her injury. She looked down, squeezing her eyes shut as he turned on the overhead light. There was a large splinter of wood embedded deep in her shoulder, right below her collarbone. “Must have caught a ricochet. Shit.”

“Didn’t even feel it until now.”

“We’ll take care of that when we get back to the cabin,” he said, shutting the light off again, putting an arm around her and letting her lean into his side. He pulled the corner of his jacket up and wiped at the blood on his forehead, then let his head drop back against the seat with a shaky sigh. Too close. Too fucking close.

When they finally got back to the cabin, Russ helped Andi get out and turned to Sweets. “You three mount up and take Salazar in, get him locked down. And if you see Ann, you can tell her we’re gonna have a talk about the quality of their intel,” he growled.

The big man nodded, then looked hard at Andi. “I’m good, Sweets. Promise.” He gave her good shoulder a squeeze, then left them to climb into the other Jeep beside their hooded captive. Andi watched them pull away, then turned towards the cabin, ready to get off her feet and find some whiskey.

“Yeah, let’s get you inside, I need to check you out,” Russell said, and she shot him a brave attempt at a smile.

“Always the sweet talker.”

They entered the cabin, and she sank down on the edge of the old sofa, trying like hell not to groan in pain. Russ was already digging through the cabinet for the medical supplies, coming back with a med kit and then heading to the bathroom for a stack of towels. Next was the almost-full bottle of whiskey that sat on the table, and Andi grabbed it from his hand, taking off the lid and lifting it to her lips, taking several swallows.

“Easy, there, hardcore,” Russell said, gently taking the bottle from her. “Need some of that for – uh – medicinal purposes.”

“That’s what I was using it for.” She looked down as he examined the chunk of wood in her shoulder. “Can you get it out?”

“Yeah, it looks pretty solid. Just didn’t want it falling apart, leaving pieces in there to get infected.” His eyes searched hers for a moment before she looked away and nodded.

“Okay, let’s do this. You need some stitches.”

“I’m fine, let’s get this done first. This is gonna have to go.” He took his knife and sliced through the strap to her grey sport bra, pushing the fabric out of the way. His jaw worked as he contemplated the best approach, finally taking out his multi-tool and readying the pliers as Andi grabbed one of the clean towels. “Okay, hold on.” He got a good grip on the wood and pulled, fast and smooth, sending a fresh rush of blood to soak into what was left of Andi’s clothes. She held the towel to the wound, wincing as she put pressure on it. Russ laid the huge splinter aside and looked down at her, dreading what was coming next. “Okay, now comes the fun part.”

She nodded, laying down on the sofa and letting Russell tuck towels around her shoulder. He grabbed the whiskey, reaching out for her to take hold of his left hand. “Ready?” She squeezed his hand in answer, and he poured whiskey into the wound, clenching his teeth as her back arched up in pain, uncontrollable whimpers escaping her lips as she gripped his hand so hard he felt the bones creak. Slowly, she eased back down, her chest heaving as she regained control. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, watching a tear escape the corner of her eye.

“I know – not your fault.” Russ gave her a couple more minutes to recover, then helped her sit up.

“I think we should do a couple of stitches.” She agreed, and he pulled a chair up close, taking care of the stitches quickly with a practiced hand.

She watched his face as he finished bandaging her shoulder, meeting his eyes when he finally looked up. “Thank you, Russ.”

“Yeah, any time. Let’s just not do it again, okay?” He put a hand to her face, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone. She smiled softly, dropping her gaze, and he pulled his hand back. “So – got a clean shirt in your bag?” She nodded, and he stood up, pushing the chair back and reaching for her duffle.

She winced as she tried to remove her ruined shirt, and Russell shook his head. “Here, let me help.” He pulled the bloodied shirt over her head, then slipped a finger under the remaining strap of her bra. “Want this off, too?”

Andi nodded. “Yeah, it’s ruined, anyway.” Russ reached around behind her, his brows bunching with an impatient frown.

“Who invented these fucking things? How the hell are you supposed to get this off?” he grumped, and Andi smiled.

“Just hand me your knife,” she said, taking it from him and slicing through the fabric, letting him help her slip it over her good shoulder and off. He tossed it disdainfully across the room, then turned, his eyes going directly to the large bruise blooming in the middle of her chest and spreading up the inside slope of both breasts.

“Goddammit, Andi,” he swore quietly.

“You’ve gotta stop swearing at me, Russ,” she teased, but he didn’t smile.

“Swearing is caring.”

“That is not how that saying goes.”

“It is for me. When it involves you. What if he would’ve missed your vest? Or had armor-piercing rounds?”

“He didn’t. And I thought we didn’t ‘what if’ after missions. That was always the rule.”

He finally looked up at her, his jaw working a little before he spoke. “You never came that close to being killed before. And you never should have been there, Andi. You should have been safe at home, not in the line of fire.”

Andi rolled her eyes, her temper flaring. “What about all the jobs you do that I don’t even know about? I hardly ever hear from you, Russ. A text here and there, or a random late-night phone call - other than that I’m in the dark all the time. I never know when you’re going on a mission, or if you’re hurt, or dead. I have that hanging over my head every damn day, but you can’t handle one job where you actually got to see the outcome in person, where you got to verify that I’m okay?” The silence still rang with her anger for a few seconds before he answered.

He sighed, guilt in his eyes as he looked away. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”

Andi nodded, skepticism clear on her face. “Heard that before.” She closed her eyes for a second, then pulled her clean shirt over her head, letting him help her get the injured arm in the sleeve. “How about we don’t do this right now?”

Russell bit at the inside of his lip, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

Andi rose to her feet, gesturing towards the chair. “Okay, your turn. Sit,” she ordered.

“Kinda bossy when you’re in pain,” Russell grumbled, plopping down on the seat. She ignored him, going to the bathroom and letting the water run until it was warm to wet a washcloth. She grabbed the med kit and set it on the table, then put a hand on top of his head and tilted it back a bit.

“Gotta clean you up a little before we do stitches.” He was drenched in sweat and blood, but – fuck it all – he’d never looked hotter. Those damn gorgeous green eyes of his were staring up at her with a look she couldn’t handle at the moment, so she avoided looking into them as she gently cleaned his face and down his neck where the blood had run down onto his shirt. “You should just take this off. It’s a mess.”

He stripped out of his shirt and she took it from him, dropping it to the table along with the now-filthy washcloth. “How many?” he asked.

Andi tilted her head, examining the cut carefully with one hand. “I think we can get by with four.” He nodded, and she turned to ready the needle.

She turned back to him, pausing for a moment before saying, “Okay, easiest way to do this is…” She straddled his lap, looking into his eyes. “Ready?”

“Yep, go for it,” he answered, his voice low and subdued. He let out a little hiss as the needle first went in, then settled, letting his hands rest on her hips. She took her bottom lip between her teeth as she started the second stitch, and he let out a quiet moan.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Not why... never mind.”

She had finished off the second stitch and was getting ready for the third when he leaned up and nestled his face into her neck. He placed a slow, lingering kiss just below her ear, his breath warm against her skin, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the flush of heat through her body. “You’re making this kinda hard.”

“You’re makin’ it hard, honey,” he said, his voice raspy with want, and Andi dropped her head back with a soft laugh.

“Can you please just be good for a couple more minutes?”

“I can be good for a couple of minutes – after that I’m gonna be great,” he mumbled, still nuzzling at her neck, and she shook her head with a wry smile as he went on, his tone very persuasive. “I’m not bleeding anymore, can’t we just finish this later?”

She sighed in frustration at him, even though she couldn’t keep the smile from teasing at her lips. “No. We need to finish this now. Sit up and behave.”

His hands were smoothing over her hips, giving a little squeeze here and there, but she managed to finally put in the last two stitches, tying off the last one and turning to drop the needle to the table.

As she turned back, he slipped a hand behind her neck and pulled her in for a scorching kiss. She fought it for a moment, her anger still stinging a little, but damn it – she never could resist him. He hummed in approval as she responded, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt. “Can we take this back off?” he asked softly, and she looked into his eyes with a doubtful expression.

“We can, but – it’s so ugly.”

Russ shook his head as he helped her remove her shirt. “No, it’s not ugly. It’s a message. It’s saying, “Fuck you, asshole! You tried to kill me, but I’m still here – and I’ve got a fabulous pair of tits.” A slow grin curved his lips as Andi laughed in spite of herself, and he leaned in to kiss her again, one hand sliding up to gently cradle her breast in his hand, thumb brushing over her nipple. She shivered, her hands roaming up his sides and around to explore the muscled expanse of his back. He nudged his nose against hers, watching her eyes flutter closed as he teased at her, leaning close to whisper, “Bed?”

She opened her eyes and shook her head. “I wanna ride.”

He scraped his teeth over his plump bottom lip and smirked. “Whatever you want, honey.”

She pushed back and rose to her feet, letting him stand up as well as they both shed the rest of their clothes, kicking their boots to the side and out of their way. Russ sat back down, eyes glowing as he watched Andi move close again, reaching his hand between her thighs and groaning as he slipped two fingers up into her silky heat. She pushed down until he was knuckle-deep, lips parting as she let out a shuddering breath. She whispered his name as he stroked his fingers over her sweet spot, her legs beginning to tremble. “Need you now,” she managed, and he pulled his hand back, holding his cock steady as she slowly took him in, hands braced on his shoulders.

“So good,” he groaned as she settled fully on his lap, then leaned forward to kiss him hungrily. His hands wandered over her body, caressing and kneading at her warm skin, his hips rising to meet her as she began to move on top of him.

He loved nothing more than to watch her when she was like this, her body smooth and sinuous as she rode him. She was getting close, and he slipped his fingers down between them to rub her clit, moaning along with her as she squeezed hard around his cock. He wasn’t going to last much longer, either, and he began thrusting his hips, driving in hard and deep, his other hand gripping her hip for leverage.

She went off like a skyrocket, gasping and then crying out as she came, and he didn’t even try to hold back, joining her with a long, low growl. She rode it out, seemingly forever, finally collapsing with a hard shudder into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. They sat there, his arms wrapped around her, for several minutes before she lifted her head, and he captured her lips beneath his for a slow, gentle kiss. He looked into her eyes, a playful sparkle in his. “Goddammit, Andi.”

She tried in vain to completely smother a smile, but it tugged at the corners of her mouth. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Russell’s smile faded slowly, and he leaned his forehead against hers. “I don’t know. But – just don’t give up on me, okay? Don’t you ever give up on me.” She pulled away, putting both hands up to his face, bringing him in close, her whole soul in their kiss, leaving him stunned and speechless for a moment.

“So – where are you off to next?” she asked softly, letting one hand drop to his shoulder as the fingers of the other combed through his beard.

He shrugged, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Not sure. Haven’t heard anything about a new gig, so…”

She ducked her head down, peering up at him until he met her gaze again. “Well, I took the rest of this week off, so I don’t have to be back at work until Monday.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, a smile slowly lighting his face. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know how long this job was gonna take. So – how about spending some time at my place? I have real food, and beer, and a shower with actual water pressure,” she said, tracing his bottom lip with her fingertip, “and really soft sheets.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You hittin’ on me?”

She laughed. “Maybe.”

He grinned, kissing her and landing a playful little swat to her ass. “Well, then, let’s get the hell out of here.”

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[oscarpiastriwdc]

albums i would play for each driver on the 2024 F1 grid to expand their music taste

Max Verstappen: Graceland by Paul Simon - As a fan of classic and folk rock, I'd imagine Max has been exposed to Simon and Garfunkel and I think he'd enjoy the sprawling, detailed, careful expanse of Simon's solo masterpiece. Angels in the architecture spinning in infinity, etc etc

Checo Perez: Ramomex by Rebel'd Punk - One of the Mexican bands who pioneered punk music in the country, but Checo probably missed this release because he was too busy karting and moving to europe as a teen. It's never too late to have a proper angry punk phase, though.

Charles Leclerc: Ten Love Songs by Susanne Sundfør - Groundbreaking, life-altering pop music that pushes every boundary. This hits the sad songs craving and I think would interest him as a musician and burgeoning songwriter.

Carlos Sainz: Ultraviolence by Lana Del Rey - daddy issues. I just know he'd vibe out to Brooklyn Baby.

Lando Norris: Destiny by DJ Sabrina the Teenage DJ - I dream of sitting him down and exposing him to actually good, interesting, fun contemporary dj music.

Oscar Piastri: Speaking in Tongues by Talking Heads - He has that certain David Byrne swag and demeanor of someone who'd love the Talking Heads if only given the chance.

Fernando Alonso: 10,000 gecs by 100 gecs - At first the old man would be extremely confused but once he was on board he would be blasting The Most Wanted Person In The United States all day every day.

Lance Stroll: Talon of the Hawk by The Front Bottoms - that post that's like the problem is men are making podcasts instead of forming midwest emo bands. but it's men are becoming f1 drivers instead of forming midwest emo bands. I think some TFB exposure could be the spark of inspiration for a great career pivot.

Lewis Hamilton: Maps by billy woods and Kenny Segal - I fear Lewis might have been too worried about Merc's performance last year to have checked out this fantastic collaboration that was one of 2023's best albums.

George Russell: Contra by Vampire Weekend - I just saw Vampire Weekend live following the release of the new album and at the show there was a guy a few feet ahead of me in the merch line who had the exact same energy as GR. The mix of prep vibes and world music would work into his taste while expanding his listening beyond coldplay.

Yuki Tsunoda: GLOW ON by Turnstile - 100% a selfish pick, I want to mosh with Yuki in the pit of a Turnstile pit.

Daniel Ricciardo: The Panhandlers by The Panhandlers - A country supergroup I return to time and again, wistful and nostalgic, making you yearn for West Texas no matter where in the world you are.

Alex Albon: Pelican West by Haircut 100 - Funky British jazz pop, perfect for dancing and vibing.

Logan Sargeant: Crying, Laughing, Waving, Smiling by Slaughter Beach, Dog - I fear Logie might be too young or too norm core to have had a proper Modern Baseball phase (it's never too late logie! listen to Intersection!) but Ewald's 2023 offering seems like something he missed last year that's perfectly up his alley.

Valtteri Bottas: Merriweather Post Pavillion by Animal Collective - Weird and complex, I think he should throw it on while on a long bike ride and let his mullet fly in the breeze.

Zhou Guanyu: God Save the Animals by Alex G - no you don't understand i need him to listen to Alex G he would love it

Kevin Magnussen: Heaven or Las Vegas by Cocteau Twins - Ethereal music he can feel and let wash over him in a wave to relax and transcend the horrors of driving for Haas.

Nico Hulkenberg: Supernatural by Santana - dad music but make it funky and good

Pierre Gasly: Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans by Uffie - A perfect twist on early 2000s French electronic music, I think it'd remind him of the club while sounding entirely new and make him want to pick up a side dj gig of his own.

Esteban Ocon: Lescop by Lescop - French indie pop-rock! His most recent album is fantastic, but Este should check out Lescop's 2013 debut first.

following a conversation with @liamlawsonlesbian and her definitive book rec list i'm doing something similar for music (she bullied me into posting this sorry). large range in popularity/mainstream-ness of artists depending on the driver and what i think they're already listening to.

[capndesdesdestiny]

below is js a thing I’m writing ab graves and fem!reader meetin at a bar in San Antonio

hehe this is so dumb.. also I’m a yapper so this is only part 1: initial meeting (no smut.. yet. freak mode loading)

You had never been to Texas before, having been born and raised in Vegas, but as your Uber from the airport glided through the streets of San Antonio, you started thinking all the flashy desert cities got that same seedy vibe.

You had flown in for a good friend’s wedding taking place here on Tuesday, though today was Thursday- you got excited and came a few days early because you’d never been so far from home before, so this was a good opportunity to do some sightseeing. (It was also nice to get some time off of work and get wasted.)

As you neared downtown, you stared out the window, eyes flitting over crumbling remnants of what once was. Dusty brick buildings, churches, littered construction equipment and blocked off alleys. As your Uber neared your hotel, there were more office buildings and tourist spots in your peripheral vision, but you were distracted by your phone at this point, checking to make sure you were dropped off at the correct location.

You’re quickly dropped at the lobby of the swanky looking joint, and your Uber driver helps you get your suitcase out from his trunk, before hurriedly leaving with a small wave goodbye. You check in with the front desk, grab your room card, and head up the elevator, the lack of cigarette stench a pleasant surprise.

You exit the elevator at the top floor, roaming down the hall until you reach your room. The door lock clicks open as you tap your card to the sensor. You let out an amused whistle as sleek modern themes fill your sight. Your gaze roams over a neat desk under a flat screen tv, a fluffy queen bed, a glass nightstand with a small matching lamp, and a comfy recliner next to the wall to wall window, beautifully overlooking… the back of the hotel next door. You shut the door behind you, setting your suitcase by the bed and shrugging your sweatshirt off before wandering into the bathroom. You’re quick in shoving your pants down and hunching over the toilet to piss with your eyes closed, your body weary from your flight.

Soon enough you’re lounging on the bed, clicking your phone on. It’s 7PM now, so while most of the historical spots you’d seen online were closed, you remember your good friend had told you about a pretty river walk with tons of restaurants and bars, and now that you’re looking at it from your maps app, it’s really not a long walk from your hotel.

You slip out of your bummy airport outfit, take a quick shower, and switch the previous walmart fit for a cute sundress and a cropped long sleeve cover. Your hair was almost dry, but even at this time of night you were certain that that summer Texas air was going to dry it up in seconds, much like the air back home. You do your makeup real nice in the bathroom mirror, that signature look that got all your drinks paid for. Once ready, you quickly grab your purse and leave the hotel, stepping out into the busy night.

You use your maps app to walk from your hotel down towards the river walk. The first thing you see as you approach is the pretty lights, shining over various bridges and stone staircases leading groups down by the water. It was a long ass river, and as you make your descent down a staircase you are welcomed by the long stretches of businesses on each side of it. You walk by the river for a while, taking pictures of the bridges, the restaurants, and a few ducks that waddle past you. Groups of friends and family bustle around you as you venture further down the stretch, doing pretty much the same as you. It’s not until you reach a large bar and grill, with live music inside and out, those beautiful lush blue lights shining all around it, that you really stop in place. One more picture of the view, then you quietly step in for a drink.

It’s pretty busy this time of night, the chatter around the tables and bar almost as loud as the jazz band playing on a stage in the corner. You take a seat at the bar, a couple empty stools to your left, and a large group of friends laughing loudly to your right. You patiently wait for your turn to order, though you knew it would probably take a while for the bartender to get through everyone else.

As you wait, you’re blissfully taking in the sights and sounds around you, watching the jazz band in the corner play as you sway your head a little to the soft music. Throughout this moment, though, you start to feel eyes on you, a gaze that burns through the back of your head, watching your every move, studying you. However, you ignore the feeling, enjoying the music as you tap the back of your foot against your stool and sway.

When the bartender finally reaches you, she smiles down at you, her voice shaking you out of your spaced out gaze towards the jazz band. You turn to meet her eyes as she says, “What can I get for you, my dear?”

You clear your throat, almost forgetting what you wanted before you speak, pointing down at a picture on the menu as you do, “Could I get this margarita, the purple one? Looks so yummy.”

She laughs and nods, putting your order in, “Of course, I’ll have that right out.”

You mouth a ‘thank you’ before pulling out your phone, waiting for your drink. You feel that weird feeling again, this strong feeling that someone’s watching you, hiding amongst the crowds of chattering patrons. You set your phone down to look around, when out of the blue a hand comes to rest on the counter to your left, making you jolt.

When you look up beside you, a tall glass of dirty blonde hair and dark blue peepers is pulling up to the seat right next to you, despite another empty one residing a seat away. You couldn’t be annoyed at the fact he could’ve left a gap, since you had done the same to your counter neighbor on your right. Though as you take a second to look him over, you’re increasingly aware of how fine this man is. He’s got a real nice build, and the way that dress shirt fits over his muscles.. the cowboy hat, boots, and belt to finish.. the lighting of the bar bathing his features in a soft blue.. it has your eyes lingering way too long.

He looks over at you as he takes his seat, silently watching as you space out on him, not even noticing him looking at you in return. His eyes peek at you from the side as he settles, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Your drink, ma’am, enjoy,” the bartender’s soft voice snaps you out of your ogling, and she sets a pretty purple margarita down in front of you. It quickly shifts your attention and makes your mouth water with thirst.

“Sorry, thanks so much,” you mutter and take a sip of the drink as the man next to you laughs. You realize you had been staring at him for almost a minute. The sound of his laugh echoes in your head as your ears redden from embarrassment, having been caught checking out a stranger. You try to ignore him as you sip your margarita- which is amazing by the way- but he draws your attention back towards him with a wave of his hand as he holds back another laugh.

“Hey.. I didn’t come to laugh at ya by the way, I don’t mind the attention.. I watched you walk in earlier and thought I’d try my luck at catchin yours, actually, so I’m pretty damn happy..” his voice is a sweet country drawl that rings through your soul, his striking blue eyes capturing you with a stare that has your thighs clenching.

You folded your hands in your lap as you struggled to maintain eye contact, shaking off your previous embarrassment to answer back. “Ah, I’m flattered, thank you,” you take another sip of your margarita before deciding to continue honestly, “you look good.. I like your outfit.”

“I figured, from the staring, or else I probably got something on my face,” he chuckled as his gaze raked down over your dress, then quickly flickered back up to your face, “you’re gonna make me blush, sweetheart.. you look beautiful, what might you be celebrating tonight?”

You clear your throat, playing with the straw of your drink as you look away, “Ah, I was actually just checking out the river walk, I saw this place and thought it was nice.. and a pretty excuse for some drinks.”

He lets out another chuckle at that, quickly ordering a Lone Star from the draft before he shifts in his seat to face you. “So, you’re not from around here, I’m guessing?”

You nod your head, “Yeah, I’m here for a wedding next week, and I have a few days to explore the town and whatnot. I head back home right after the wedding so I’m trying to make the most of my time here.”

He nods at that, he sees an opening. “I wish you were stayin longer, I’d love to get to know a pretty little thing like you.” The bartender passes his glass to him and he takes a long sip, gaze still stuck on you from over the rim.

You can’t help but smile, he was a real charmer. Though you were used to being hit on, and thoroughly skilled in rejecting unwanted attention, when it came to flirting back you were a lost cause. That dad vibe he had going on was slowly breaking your guard down, however, for better or for worse.

“Oh stop it, you’re making me nervous..,” your smile widens as you bat your eyes at him jokingly, “so, um, you’re local? Born and raised here, then?” You hide behind your marg, taking small sips.

His eyes lower a little as you blink up at him, and he bites his lower lip a little, cheesing. He shifts in his seat, his elbow on the counter as he drinks his beer. “Yup. Was out of town for work for a while, so I’m glad to be back home. Why, you curious ‘bout me?” He flashed you a sly smile, his eyes wrinkling slightly at the corners.

You cross one leg over the other, giving him your full attention now as you play with your straw. A blush sneaks onto your cheeks as you sway a little on your stool. “I guess you could say that… what do you do for work, if I might ask?”

“I’m, uh,” there was a small pause as he thought about how to word this, taking a swig from his drink, “I’m a contractor, of sorts.”

“Oh! That’s cool! I’m sure that pays well, right?” You curse at yourself for being so awkward. You wave politely at the bartender. It’s time for another drink.

“Mm, it’s not bad,” he murmured lowly. The pay was amazing. But he wasn’t exactly keen on talking about work right now. Nor was he able to go into the finer details, as he had just returned from committing war crimes overseas for two months. He ordered another beer, watching you swing your legs and avoid eye contact. “By the way, I don’t think I got your name, darlin’..”

“Oh! Shit, that slipped my mind, I’m sorry,” you tell him your name, “..and you?”

“Call me Phil, hon.”

end of pt 1

hope this was okay for now o(^▽^)o I’ll continue this some other time

[the-hinky-panda]

War of the Roses Series: Part II

Warning: Mention of miscarriages

Next time ends up being a couple weeks later when Bill and his crew arrive in Tulsa to survey the land that’s going to be turned into a weed farm. Bill had been trying to come up with an excuse to show up at Thresher’s door, asking if you happen to be around, just so he could see you again. That accidental kiss in the coatroom has left his world slightly askew. He isn’t sure if seeing you again is going to put it right again or tilt it even more off-balance. So when Carl suggested they pay a visit to Thresher to make sure he really was set up to start the business, Bill jumped on the idea. 

When they arrive at the house, Bill is constantly searching the background for you, or any sign of you. The house is massive, all dark wood, dim lighting, and expensive art work. There’s a gigantic medieval tapestry that hangs behind the large mahogany desk in Cal’s office. There’s no warmth to the belongings, no family history. Everything in here is a showcase of trophies, expensive baubles collected to show wealth. 

He thinks of the hundred year old bronze of a cowboy on a bucking bronco that his grandfather bought after making his first million dollars. The Toulouse-Lautrec painting his grandmother bought to hang in the dining room so guests could converse over the subject matter of a young woman seated at a table. There were silver trophies, cups, and punch bowls his father had won on reining horses. Hell, sitting on his desk at the autoparts warehouse was a signed baseball from Mickey Mantle that his father had secured for him. 

The difference between generational wealth and new money. 

Cal spreads out a map on the desk and shows where the fields are going to be located. There are places marked for where the greenhouses are currently being built and he’ll show them the progress in that construction that is almost complete. Bill has to give it to him, he’s thorough and organized in the approach. That’s a good sign. What’s not that great of a sign is that there’s no personal pictures of you in the office. There’s framed portraits of Cal and what look to be his relatives but not one picture of you. It irks Bill. 

He doesn’t see you, or any presence of you, in the house. He knows he’s not going to see you out on the land and greenhouse tour. It does make it easier to concentrate on Cal and his development plans. Bill has to admit, this may just be the top producing weed farm out of all the ones he has growing. The one to beat would be in Texas but Texas is prone to drought and that could be an issue in another year or two. Cal has had the foresight to acknowledge drought as a problem and has a mobile irrigation system that will cover most of the acreage. They’re riding back from the demo of the irrigation system when Cal invites Bill and his guys to stay for dinner. It gives Bill the opportunity he’s been waiting for. 

“Is your wife going to mind having to feed all of us?” 

Cal shakes his head. “No, she likes cooking. At least that’s what she said this morning when I told her you were coming today to have a look around.” 

So you are around, know he’s here, and offer to make food for everyone. He takes it as a positive sign, shaky as it is, that perhaps that kiss has had lingering effects on you as well. He uses this time, just the two of them in the four wheel drive UTV, to try to get more information out of Cal. 

“How long have you two been married?” 

“Six years.” Cal frowns. “That might be it though.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Let’s just say she’s not exactly holding up her end of the bargain.” He sighs. “Sometimes it just doesn’t work out. You ever been married?” 

“Once upon a time,” Bill looks out over the gently rolling hills and wonders what exactly is the bargain between you and Cal. “She was from California and thought she’d give farm life a try. She didn’t care for it or me. Moved back to San Franscisco and married some silicon valley fucker.” 

“You would think with the lives we provide them, scenery like this, homes like ours, never wanting for anything, they would be motivated to do their actual fucking jobs. But they’re never satisfied are they?” 

Bill bites his tongue because he doesn’t know the details of what Cal is talking about and it causes him hesitation to agree with anything when he doesn’t know both sides of the story. 

***

As soon as the meal is over, when the last dessert fork has been laid on the table, you excuse yourself from the table. It’s not the first time that you’ve attended a business dinner at the house and your presence is never welcome past the completion of the meal. The house staff clear the dishes and set everything back to its pristine condition while the men find some appropriate spot either inside or outside to smoke their cigars, sip their whiskey, and talk about their interests.  

You remove yourself from the gathering and head down to the small barn that Cal built for you and your four horses. He refuses to have any more than that because the horses you have don’t make money, not real money at least. There’s really only one horse that has a six figure value but he’s a retired reining horse. Two are classified as therapy horses and the other one is just a sedate trail horse. You’re thankful Cal allows them on his property at all but you’re not sure for how much longer they’ll be there. 

After your return from Kansas City, Cal gave you an ultimatum. You had one more chance to deliver a healthy baby before divorce papers were drawn up. Your parents have already told you that if a divorce occurs, you would not be welcome back to Texas. Your sister has already had three children in the last six years so infertility shouldn’t be an issue for you. Therefore, you must be doing something on purpose to cause the trio of miscarriages. But you don’t know if you can handle another pregnancy, another loss. Every time you lose a baby, a piece of your soul goes with them. Maybe if Cal showed some sympathy towards you it would be worth another risk but you doubt he’s going to change his ways now. 

You like being in the barn at this time of the day. The stable manager is gone for the evening and it’s just you and the horses. You put the halter on one of the therapy horses and tie him to the cross ties so you can brush him down. There’s a couple students from a school program that are coming out tomorrow to ride and you want the horses to be clean and ready for the appointment. 

The truth of the matter is, you needed to get out of the house, away from Bill specifically. You had spent the last two weeks replaying that kiss in the coat room in your head on a constant loop, trying to remember the exact feel of his lips on yours, the sharpness of his cologne, the gentleness of his hands. You were ashamed to admit that there were times when your daydreaming was so immersive that when you came back to reality you’re startled by seeing ice blue eyes instead of whiskey brown. 

Now, he was sitting directly across the dining table from you, the candlelight dancing across his tanned skin and highlighting the flecks of green in his eyes. You hadn’t seen those before in the dim light of the coat room. His smile is different when Cal says something humorous and then when he makes eye contact with you. It’s more subtle, more personal in a way that made your face heat up and you had to concentrate on the feel of the linen napkin in your lap. But then your mind drifted from the napkin to what it would feel like to run your fingers over his stubbled jaw, into his dark hair. The way he held his wine glass, the round bowl sitting perfectly in the wide expanse of his hand, was practically obscene. You were afraid to stand up when dinner was over because your knees were so fucking weak. 

You take a deep breath and lean your forehead against the sinews in the horse’s neck. You had never believed just sitting across from someone could create such want. That is the part you struggle with, you want Bill in a way that you have never experienced before. You’ve tried to feel that way with Cal, tried to feel the passion and desire but it was never there. Your wedding night had been spent on your back, tense, and staring at the ceiling. You were too afraid to engage and Cal never did anything to encourage you otherwise. So even though you had that desire for Bill, you don’t know what to do with it. It’s frustrating on multiple levels and that’s why you sought out the horses. 

“Hello?” 

Your eyes fly open and your breath catches in your throat. “Fuck.” 

Bill is standing in the doorway of the barn. “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone was down here. Cal said I could check out the horses.” 

He doesn’t realize it’s you. You’re too far away and most likely backlit. Taking a deep breath, trying to ignore the rush of nerves that cause goosebumps to race across your skin, you step around the horse. 

“That’s fine, Bill. It’s just me.” 

The problem is, Bill is not backlit. You can see his facial expression perfectly. And when he starts to move towards you, with dark eyes and clear intent in his step, you realize it is not fine. There is no hesitation when he reaches you, when his palms cover your cheeks and he kisses you with such force you have no choice but to hold onto him. You feel his fingers apply pressure on your jaw, permission to deepen the kiss, and you grant it immediately. Whiskey and raspberries, that’s what he tastes like and you’re becoming lightheaded. When he finally releases you, it’s to rest his forehead against yours, both of you trying to catch your breath. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re even sweeter than I remember.” 

You smile at that, your fingers doing what you had wanted to do at dinner and skate across the scruff on his cheeks. “I can’t stop remembering.” 

He kisses you again, moving you until your back is against a stall door. His one hand rests at the back of your head to make sure you have a buffer between your skull and the metal bars. The other moves slowly from your waist, rising up your rib cage until he cradles your breast the same way he held the wine glass. You gasp when his thumb drags over your nipple, even through your shirt and bra, a moan coming from him when you arch your back. He takes the opportunity to slide his knee between your thighs and you grab fistfuls of his shirt to hold yourself upright. 

“You like that,” he whispers in a rough voice. 

You can’t even form words right now. Everything about this is new to you. The desire for this man, to give yourself to him and whatever he wants to do to you, is more intoxicating than the entire wine cellar in the house. You grind down on his thigh and your wontoness surprises you. 

“I need to hear you say it.” 

Your mind is completely shrouded in want you have no idea what he wants you to say. “Wha…what?” 

His cheeks are flushed, his pupils blown completely black. “Do you want to do this?” 

You nod your head immediately. “Yes, please.” 

He groans as he kisses you again, nipping at your lower lip. He moves his thigh up higher and you move against it. The seam of your jeans with the flex of his muscle provides the perfect pressure on your clit. Your fingers dig into the sinews of his shoulders. 

“Fu…fuck…”

He leans back to watch your face. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Come for me. I want to see you come.” 

Your head tips back as you shake when the release breaks over you. You bite your lip so hard to keep from making noise that you taste the tang of copper. You’re sweating and panting, still holding onto Bill because you’re shaking so hard, you can’t stand. You’re surprised at the gentleness he shows in just holding you, gently running his hands over your back and shoulders. 

When you get partial functionality back in your hands, you reach down and fumble with his belt buckle. You found your release, he didn’t find his. You need to fix that, even the score. He reaches down and takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing your knuckles. “Next time.” 

You struggle with that mindset, where your pleasure comes first. You touch his face, trying to memorize all the details from the colors in his eyes, to the rasp of his scruff, to the shape of his mouth. “Next time, huh?” 

He gives you a quick smile before turning very serious again. “He doesn’t love you.” His lips skim across your cheekbone, your jawline, and he presses his face in the space where your neck meets your shoulder. His hands curl around your waist and shoulder blades, pressing you tightly against him. “I can’t imagine why.” 

Tears prick the back of your eyes as you lean into the embrace. “I can show you why he doesn’t.” 

[justinspoliticalcorner]

David Ingram at NBC News:

President-elect Donald Trump has surrounded himself with a tight-knit group of wealthy tech barons whose ideas will help define his second term in the White House. 

Three key allies — members of a group known as “the PayPal Mafia” for their involvement in the money-transfer company two decades ago — seem to be shaping policy and staffing decisions in Trump’s incoming administration, and they are part of an expansive right-wing tech network that will accompany Trump back into power.  The network is highly interconnected, sharing not only a political alliance but also social ties, investment opportunities, anti-regulatory ideas and geographic proximity in Austin, Texas, or Northern California. Some of their friendships and professional connections go back decades, and almost all the members of the network are men.  Tesla and SpaceX CEO Elon Musk has been called the “shadow president” or “first buddy,” and he wants to take a hatchet to the federal budget at Trump’s request as co-lead of the newly formed “Department of Government Efficiency” with biotech entrepreneur Vivek Ramaswamy.  David Sacks, a tech investor and podcaster, will have the role of Trump’s tech “czar,” advising him on artificial intelligence and cryptocurrency. 

Peter Thiel, a longtime Trump supporter, has given the incoming Trump administration a staffing pipeline filled with at least 10 of his former co-workers, employees or investing partners — including Vice President-elect JD Vance.  And dozens of other tech figures are now orbiting in Trump’s gravity, as either informal advisers, government officials-in-waiting or supporters pushing Trump’s agenda from outside Washington. While some converted to his side only recently, many of the tech figures know one another very well.  “They’ve turned profits into power,” said Rob Lalka, author of the book “The Venture Alchemists,” which came out this year and profiled many of the figures who are headed into the administration.  Lalka, a professor at Tulane University’s Freeman School of Business, said several characteristics define the technologists surrounding Trump, including their wealth and skepticism of institutions and the heavily online personas they’ve created. And he said they have a shared history, with many of them overlapping at Stanford University during and after Thiel’s time there.  “That contrarianism, it doesn’t come out of nowhere. It comes from real-life experiences they had as college students,” he said. 

In other words: A right-wing faction has coalesced within the usually progressive tech industry, and much of it is preparing to make Washington a second home for the next four years.  The Trump transition team describes it as a natural fit.  “President Trump’s agenda includes economic, energy and regulatory policies that will allow the US to reclaim its global dominance of innovation and technology,” Brian Hughes, a spokesperson for the transition, said in a statement.   “President Trump is surrounding himself with industry leaders like Elon Musk as he works to restore innovation, reduce regulation, and celebrate free speech in his second term,” he said.  Musk, Sacks and Thiel didn’t respond to requests for comment on the transition.  Neil Malhotra, a professor of political economy at the Stanford Graduate School of Business, said it’s notable that many in the tech industry crowd that’s close to Trump don’t come from the biggest-name tech companies, such as Meta, Google, Apple and Microsoft. 

“This specific group is unique because it’s coming a lot from venture,” he said, referring to venture capitalists who invest in startups. “Venture is very different from Big Seven incumbent tech. The Big Seven incumbent tech, those people are trying to be very neutral.” The Magnificent 7 collection of tech companies includes Alphabet, Amazon, Apple, Meta, Microsoft, NVIDIA and Tesla.   Venture capitalists often are less interested in corporate initiatives such as diversity programs, he said. Instead, they have a reputation for ruthless competition, focusing in their most extreme moments on growth at all costs and upending the existing order.  “The contrarian culture of Silicon Valley and venture has pushed back against big corporate ideas coming out of the professional managerial class,” he said.  Trump’s second term won’t be the first administration to have strong influence from the modern tech industry. The Obama administration was closely tied to tech, especially to Google and its executives, such as former CEO Eric Schmidt. 

But there’s little overlap between the tech figures who advised President Barack Obama and those working now for Trump. And there’s a different dynamic this time around, said Nathan Leamer, a Republican consultant in Washington and CEO of Fixed Gear Strategies. “Obama was following Big Tech’s lead in 2008, and there was an excitement that the Obama administration’s approach to tech mirrored the blogosphere and early Twitter and how these companies saw themselves as fitting into the world,” he said.  “The difference now is that, with Trump, it’s following the Republican Party’s lead,” he said. “Tech is watching Republican leaders and realizing that they have to get in the game. Otherwise, they’re going to be left out.” 

Previously Trump-skeptical tech companies such as Meta, Amazon and OpenAI are each giving at least $1 million to Trump’s inaugural fund, donations that Trump can use for whatever purpose he wants.  Setting a tone near the top of the new administration will be Vance, who worked for one of Thiel’s venture capital funds, Mithril Capital, after law school and has benefited ever since from the association. Thiel was one of the main backers of Vance’s run for the Senate in Ohio in 2022.  “From the top, you see that connection with Silicon Valley,” Leamer said. (He noted that Trump himself now qualifies as a tech investor, with a majority stake in the parent company of Truth Social, Trump Media & Technology Group Corp.)  Leamer said that while some industries rely on Washington-based trade and lobbying organizations to be the faces of their businesses, figures such as Musk, Sacks and Thiel pursue a different model: cutting out the trade groups as middlemen and speaking directly to large audiences through social media and podcasts. 

NBC News has a report on Donald Trump’s connections to right-wing wealthy tech kingpins such as Elon Musk, Peter Thiel, Vivek Ramaswamy, and David Sacks, not to mention his ticketmate JD Vance.

Read the full story at NBC News.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter I.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Javier gets acquainted with his new job and new life in small town, Texas.

WORD COUNT: 6.7k

RATING:   18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: Mutual pining, talks of homicide, they really wanna fuck each other, beginning of a beautiful slow burn, lots of smoking, southern gothic vibes are strong with this one, if you love worldbuilding then this is the fic for you, mentions of a religious cult, subtle slutshaming.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS:   The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: it’s official, i am now licensed! lol jk jk but hooray to a first chapter! i’ve been working on this thing non stop trying to get the characterization and dynamic and overall voice of the story down pat. i had so much fun writing this tbh and i hope the person reading this enjoyed… well… reading it! i’m still trying to get the hang of writing/posting a whole ass fic while also learning how AO3/Tumblr works so pls be GENTLE with me *cries* i'm not sure what the upload schedule will be yet but just know ya girl is devoting all her free time to this currently.... anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback in my ask. < 3

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Javier Peña doesn’t know if he should see this reassignment as a good thing. He had gotten himself in a pretty hairy situation down in Colombia. His involvement with a death squad and the cartel had him pulled from the biggest case of his career right as they were on the verge of catching Escobar… and only he is to blame for that. He crossed a boundary with himself, gotten innocent people killed and what exactly does he have to show for it?

A reassignment to a small, shitty town in the middle of Texas. 

At least in South America he had a great view to cope with the shitty happenings. The lush mountains of Medellín that stretched for miles and miles, the bustling of the the country’s capitol, Bogotá, or the portrait perfect skyline of Cali. 

Here, it’s just dirt roads with barbed wired fences lining the vast amounts of grassy lands. Occasional livestock litter the area; Seminary’s only lifeline is farming since most of the families that reside here own ranches or crop fields. The town is able to sustain itself with what it produces, therefore not needing many additional businesses. Just a few blocks of shops and civil buildings. No hospital but a doctor’s office with one singular clinician, a grindhouse, some boutiques, a bakery, a very small post office that shares its space with the local newspaper.

Typical spaces you’d find in a settlement like this.

He can’t change his past and all his wrongdoings. Instead, Javier can try and see the fucking silver lining of the situation; that he finally has time to catch his breath… to slow down, for once. The concept is foreign to him. He’s been fleeing from it since he was an adolescent.

A fact that his father, Chucho, had brought up when Javier told the older man of his new job.

“Seminary? ¿Donde putas es eso? (Where the fuck is that?)”

“Couple hours southwest of El Paso. A smidge on the map.”

“A smidge on the map sounds like exactly what you need, hombre (man).” His pops tells him, taking a swig from his beer as the two lean against the wooden fence that keeps the herd of horses from running amuck.

Javi doesn’t say anything, instead gazing out into the vastness of the family ranch.

“All that craziness down there in Colombia te pudre le mente. El cuerpo. (It rots your mind. Your body.) And I’ll be damned if a heart attack takes you out before me.” The men chuckle briefly, sounding just alike.

“Comes with its own shit. A damn ‘cult’.” Javi scoffs, taking a smooth drag from the cigarette between his lips. “Least that’s what the locals think. Could just be a damn serial killer.” No different from what he’s experienced with the cartel.

“Shit is goin’ to be anywhere you go, hijo (son), pero se me hace a mi (it seems to me) that the shit they got goin’ on in Seminary is much more manageable than la mierda con Escobar (the shit with Escobar).” Just hearing his name has Javier clenching his jaw subconsciously and Chucho takes notice.

“Just an old man’s opinion. Take this time to look within. Figure out the type of man you want to be after being chewed up and spat out of Colombia.” Another swig of beer, “Pero eres tan bruto, nunca me haces caso (but you’re so stubborn, you never listen to me). ”

“In a shocking turn of events, this might be the one time I do.” Javier snuffs out the finished cigarette against the wooden pole, tossing it aside carelessly and crossing his arms against his chest. “But don’t get your hopes up. ”

“As long as you don’t drink the damn kool aid, vaz a estar bien (you’re going to be fine).” The father and son share another laugh, this time much more lighthearted.

Javi blinks slowly behind the aviators that sit on the bridge of his nose, the bright and grueling Texas sun beaming down on him harshly. Finishing his cigarette, he pushes himself off the hood of his restored Ford pickup truck. He’s been sitting outside of Seminary’s Sheriff’s Department for about ten minutes now, the small building located right in the middle of town very easy to find.

Then again, it wasn’t hard to get lost in a place this small.

It is unimpressive and has the makings of any other small town government building. An American flag flown proudly above Texas’s, the lettering that labeled the building faded due to being unkept and time. 

Javier knows that the dread he feels comes from not being able to sit still. It’s why he found some kind of pleasure working down in Colombia. Things were always moving at a fast pace, albeit he had done a lot of pencil pushing and running down the clock, but the city itself was bustling with life and culture that kept him on go even when he was idle. 

Here, however, the stillness is suffocating and he wonders how the people of Seminary can breathe. 

Is this sentiment what sparked the murders? Had someone finally had enough of the mundane and decided to spruce things up?

His eyes narrow, if he continues to stand out here any longer, the sheriff will begin to wonder if the new guy had bailed before even coming in.

He jogs up the steps that lead up to the main building, taking them two at a time then pushing open the worn, glass door of the entrance; removing his sunglasses and letting them hang from the collar of the cream colored button up shirt he’s wearing. 

He takes in his surroundings and somehow he feels like he and Murphy had more space back at the embassy than what they have here. 

There’s a front desk to the immediate right being tended to by an older woman with fiery red hair that’s got reading glasses on, too engrossed in her novel to notice that he’s stepped in.

Other than that, it's everything one would expect a sheriff’s department to look like. Desks pushed together here and there, singular ceiling fan lazily spinning in the center of the room, a break room tucked to the back, the hallway that led to detaining rooms and other necessary spaces, variety of office supplies and filing cabinets.

It almost looks too normal.

“Need somethin’, dear?” He is returned to himself as the older woman finally takes notice of him with a friendly smile, her eyes not so subtly giving him a once over. “We don’t usually get hunks ‘round here. You must be lost, sugar.”

Javier smirks, even without trying he’s got women smitten.

“Fortunately for you, ma’am, seems like I’m in the right place. Javier Peña, new Deputy Sheriff.” He strolls over to her desk, leaning against it as he reaches his hand out for her to shake. 

She lets out a warm laugh and they shake hands in which Javi notices a soft pink tint of blush on the apples of her cheeks. “Fortunately for me indeed. I’m Lorraine, darlin’, I pretty much run everythin’ ‘round here but don’t you go tellin’ Romeo that.” She winks at him.

“Don’t go tellin’ Romeo what now, Lorraine? That you’re gunnin’ for my job?” A boisterous voice interrupts them and Javier immediately recognizes it to be the sheriff. 

“Oh, I thought that was somethin’ we all already knew?”

“Hate to say it but she’s right. Works circles around me that one. Romeo Leighton. Great to have you here, Javier.” The sheriff now speaks to Javier directly, and he takes this as a sign to straighten his posture and formally introduce himself as well.

The man has a good fifteen years on Javi, standing a few inches taller with a much more worn look to him. He’s a bit skinny yet built, except for the typical beer belly most southern men tend to have. A scruffy and short beard with unruly hair that’s a mix of grays and dark browns.

“Thanks for having me.” The two share a brief handshake, “M’sure you two could handle the town all on your own, so I appreciate you making room for a plus one.” Javier decides to turn on the good ‘ol southern charm and it seems to land as intended as the atmosphere in the room remains friendly and the sheriff chuckles.

“Look at him catchin’ on so quick. We just might not let you go, amigo.” Lorraine playfully rolls her eyes and reaches over to pass the older man a stack of files. “These just came in from Rankin County.”

“You got here just in time. We got some new developments on the murders.” And just like that, the lively talk is over and they get right into the job. 

“Heard there were mentions of a group of some sorts?” Javier brings it up, wanting to get a gauge on the sheriff’s reaction instead of just reading about it through reports.

“Just rumors. Nothing concrete to back it up.”

The two men now find themselves in Romeo’s office, each smoking a cigarette with multiple files sprawled across the wooden desk.

Here’s what they know: three woman murdered along the highway that these towns share all within a year. They sustained multiple stab wounds, yet the fatal insertion was that of a sharp blade going straight through the heart. The men don’t know if that was intentional or accidental due to the amount of times their chests had been punctured.

It is gruesome, to say the least, but nothing that Javier hasn’t seen before, unfortunately. The way the cartel got creative with their murders just to send a message to their rivals had him exposed to many atrocities; he was desensitized to most forms of violence. Yet, the passion behind these crimes and unclear motive has piqued Javi’s interest the more they discussed it. 

“Then again… it could be nothin’. Just a giant, fucked up coincidence.” The sheriff grumbles, clearly frustrated by the lack of information.

“No, I don’t think so. Too similar of a killing method. Any clue what weapon was used?” Javier leans forward in the uncomfortable, leather chair to ash his cigarette and sifting through the papers, trying to find the coroner’s reports for all three victims.

“Some kind of dagger or knife. Thought it might have been a huntin’ knife but all the wounds were clean cut. No serrated edges on the weapon.”

Javi hums, going over the details in his head for the millionth time trying to see the picture that was so clearly painted in front of him.

There was just simply not enough evidence to make anything out of it. On top of that, the assailant hasn’t struck again in months. A good thing for the general public but not for them if they have any intention of bringing justice to the families of the victims and catching whoever was behind these heinous crimes.

Javier also realizes that while these murders were tame to him, they were most certainly not tame to the people around here. Atrocities as these simply didn’t happen in places like Seminary and surrounding areas. Now that they were dealing with the aggressive reality of humanity, it was shaking them to their core.

So much so that the God fearing townsfolk began spreading rumors that the devil had its eye on the town and already infiltrated the progressive minds of the local youth.

“There’s always some truth to rumors, you know.” Javi begins, gray smoke flooding out from his mouth and nostrils as he puffs out from the nicotine stick, “Someone must’ve seen or heard somethin’ to implicate the younger crowd. ”

The sheriff leans back in his chair, using his thumb to rub out the concentrated frown that had etched itself between his brows, “People ‘round here are pretty stuck in their ways, myself included at times, they don’t like the way this new generation is comin’ up. Barely goin’ to church, spendin’ more time at the bar than at work. How sexual music’s gotten. Small shit like that gets people talkin’. It’s annoyin’ but it’s just talk.”

Javier is going to have to polish his interpersonal skills. Something larger could be at play here so he makes a mental note to go out and talk to these people himself to get a better feeling for what the general sentiment is.

Hell, he might even start going back to church. He can’t remember the last time he step foot in one. With what all had transpired further south; he’d lost his faith entirely. There was so much evil and greed in the world, he felt helpless at the realization that even religion became aversive to him. 

“M’sure somethin’ll come up eventually.” Javier decides to be optimistic, struggling to do so but also wanting to turn over a new leaf, “In the meantime we’ll just have to make do with what we got. It’s been a while since the fucker struck so maybe they're done. Got a taste for it and decided they didn’t like it.” He finishes off his cigarette, stubbing it out and leaning back against the chair.

“A fresh set of eyes will really help with that. Appreciate you comin’ here, Peña. Don’t know much about your time down in Colombia but I can imagine it was rough. This is a massive change for you. Goin’ from damn drug traffickers to a coupla girls gettin’ stabbed on the side of a highway.” The older man continues to puff on his cigarette, his statement falling flat and almost in bad taste but Javier doesn’t say anything, instead shrugging. 

“I got a job— M’not complaining’.” That was almost not the case, and a nasty feeling at the pit of his gut stirs at the remembrance of his meeting with the board in D.C. in a few weeks to get his official reprimanding for his ties with Los Pepes. 

Javi is surprised that the Sheriff doesn’t bring up Judy Moncada’s quotes from the Miami Herald. Either he wasn’t informed or he simply did not care.

“That’s the spirit. What do you have goin’ on tonight?” Romeo begins, changing the subject entirely, and Javier can sense an invitation incoming. “‘Cause I’d love to have ya over for dinner. Give you a proper introduction to Seminary. You can meet my daughter, Paloma, too.” The sheriff then picks up one of the framed photos on his desk, turning it over for Javier to see.

A portrait of a stunning young woman sporting a cowboy hat, smiling brightly at the camera.

“Ain’t she a beaut?” He pulls the picture back, asking rhetorically and Javier clears his throat. 

For a moment he contemplates the dinner invitation, part of him wanting to be alone in the comfort of his new space but the other part wanting to just throw himself into this to keep his mind occupied and away from the grueling memories of the lengthy time he’d spent in Colombia.

“Sure, I’ll come by.” He decides. If he thought about it for a second longer, he’d talk himself out of going.

A large, friendly grin spreads on Romeo’s face and he nods, finally finishing off his cigarette. “Alright now, you can stop by ‘round 7.” He moves some of the files aside revealing a notepad and he digs in his shirt pocket to pull out a pen. Scribbling down his address messily onto the blank piece of paper, he tears it off and leans over to hand it to Javier.

“Not that hard to get to.” Javier nods curtly and takes the paper, folding it and stuffing it into his back pocket.

It’s later in the day, the sun cascading into the distance; its hues of deep oranges and reds softening as the night sky begins to take over.

Paloma sits on the rocking chair that matches her father’s out on the porch. A guitar nestled in her lap and personal booklet resting on the arm of the chair as she strums lightly, building the chorus of her new song out loud. She takes the pencil from behind her ear and jots down something quickly and messily, returning to strumming and humming simultaneously.

“Paloma!” She hears the loud voice of her father practically making the walls shake as he calls out for her from his bedroom that was on the other side of the house. They often opened all the doors and windows to allow the soft breeze to flow throughout their space. 

She groans, stopping her actions as the melody she was on the brink of figuring out leaves her entirely.

“What, daddy?!” She yells back, waiting for his reply which never comes.

He does this all the time.

Cursing quietly, Paloma stands from her comfortable spot, gently leaning her guitar against the wall then walking in to the house.

She finds Romeo exiting his bedroom and walking towards her, bottle of his good scotch in hand with a relieved look on his face. “Couldn’t find the goddamn liquor. Thought you had nabbed it from me.” He pinches her nose as he walks by her, in which she scrunches her face at the action. It's something he’s done since she was a little girl. It can be endearing but most of the time; it was just annoying.

“That’s the good stuff, daddy. I would never.” She follows behind him as they enter the kitchen, “Man must’ve left quite an impression for ya to be bustin’ out the crown jewel.” She watches as he begins to set out the dinnerware for tonight, and that’s when she realizes how late it has gotten.

It’s easy for Paloma to lose herself in her music. She has been able to since she was a child. Her mother had nursed the hobby the moment she saw how truly talented her daughter was. In return, Paloma became skillful in being able to play damn near any instrument put in front of her. And she could sing, too.

Beautifully.

“Javier’s got a sharp mind that I can use ‘round here. Thinkin’ I can finally start makin’ some damn progress. That deserves a special drink, don’t ya think? Come help me set the table.” She obliges, thinking her father’s words over.

The murders have been weighing heavily on his shoulders since they began. All the time and effort he’s put in to make the puzzle pieces fit only to come up empty handed. Paloma doesn’t know the specifics of it, just what he rants to her here and there. He doesn’t like to bring his work home.

Romeo has been away a lot since putting his entire focus on the cases. Many nights spent at the office but he at least tries to share one meal with his daughter throughout the week. Paloma understands this, and like always she gives him his space and doesn’t complain about it. 

The only reason she’s stuck around Seminary for so long is for him. He wouldn’t know what to do without her.

“Well I’m glad things are lookin’ up, finally. Can’t wait to meet this sharp thinkin’ Javier.” They finish setting up and Paloma excuses herself to go get changed into something a little more dressy seeing as her father was looking more put together than usual.

He must really be trying to make an impression.

Her room is on the second floor, alongside her childhood playroom and the empty room that contained some miscellaneous items.

Like her mother’s things.

Paloma always has a habit of letting her gaze linger at the closed, white wooden door of the room every time she passes it. In a strange way, she feels like her mother is standing behind that door; just waiting for her to open it and greet her like her daughter wishes she could.

But she hardly ever does, the sorrow feeling in her chest too heavy for her to bear being in there for longer than a few minutes.

She passes it with a quick glance, now entering her bedroom and throwing open her wardrobe doors. It’s a mess, like it usually is, but it’s an organized chaos that only Paloma Leighton could decipher. 

After eyeing some outfits, she decides on a cream toned, linen romper with shorts. It has a deep V cut in the front that tastefully exposed some of the tanned skin between her breasts. However, she puts on a matching lace bralette underneath to soften the risqué of the outfit.

Her hair is the brown of aged mahogany. Long and thick, it falls almost to her waist and she does nothing but brush it out. It naturally falls the way she likes. A beautifully sculpted cross necklace hangs from her neck; it was her mother’s and she’d given it to Paloma shortly before passing. She finishes getting ready by spritzing some of her perfume and applying lip gloss before sauntering down the steps.

She hears the soft sound of her father’s record playing some old school country tune, the song sounding throughout the house and she smiles gently. She crosses the threshold and is out on the porch to gather her things from earlier when she catches the headlights of a vehicle coming down the elongated driveway of the property.

That must be him.

“Daddy, your friend’s here!”

Javier got a chance to get to get acquainted with the town before his dinner with the sheriff. He wandered around the shops and establishments that littered the main street of Seminary, drove the backroads then up and down the highway a few times to get a feel for how he would approach his new job. 

The conclusion he’s come to is that the town, for the most part, is harmless. But he’s only been here one afternoon so what the hell does he know?

After his exploration, he finally made it to the place he would be calling home until further notice. A dingy yet quaint trailer home located on about two acres of land. It has everything he requires. Furnished neatly and stocked with all the cooking utensils he could ever need but ultimately never use. Javier found himself more comfortable after unpacking the few items he’d brought along with him.

Maybe his father was right. Maybe he can finally slip into some normalcy.

But he’s only been here one afternoon so what the hell does he know?

After a stop at the local bakery, an ‘if you blink you’ll miss it’ type of establishment, and the purchase of some homemade banana pudding; the man is driving up a dirt path to Romeo’s home.

The sheriff lives on an impressive mount of land, his house looking like something plucked straight out of an old southern painting. A large, two story home with a wraparound porch. A typical white picket fence surrounds the immediate area. The landscaping is beautiful, it looks very well tended to and he can hear Chucho’s voice ringing in the back of his head.

“¿Vez? Que te dije (see? what did I tell you)— peaceful.” 

He cuts the engine of his Ford, checking his appearance in the rearview mirror before grabbing the tinfoil container from the passenger’s seat and getting out.

The first thing he sees as he approaches the front door are long, tan legs that lead up to some full and soft looking thighs that instantly have him licking his lips.

And who is this?

“Good evening, ma’am.” His deep voice cuts through the sound of the summer evening, his Texan accent thick. The sounds of toads croaking in the distance and different insects chirping about set a pleasant ambiance for the southern night.

The woman stands alert at the sound of his voice and turns to face him, which causes Javi to damn near lose his breath at the sight of the beauty in front of him.

It is the same woman that Romeo had shown him earlier, except the picture didn’t do her natural beauty any justice. She’s got the most gorgeous features he’s ever seen on a woman, and he’s been around a lot of beautiful women. 

Her lips are pouty and pink, the gloss she’s wearing accentuates their plushness so well. Honey colored brown eyes that even from where he stands can see twinkle with curiosity beneath the soft porch lights. Freckles sprinkle across her nose and the tops of her cheeks complimented by her natural blush. 

Damn.

“You must be Javier. I’m Paloma, Romeo’s daughter.” She smiles at him in which he can’t help but mirror as she sets down the guitar in her possession and he slowly walks up the porch steps.

Well, this certainly is a pleasant surprise. When Paloma’s father had told her about the new guy that was joining the department, she just pictured some run of the mill, old looking man. One that looked like every other one of his colleagues. 

She most definitely wasn’t expecting such a handsome man like the one that’s in front of her.

“Paloma.” The way her name falls from his lips with a Spanish accent has her stomach erupting in butterflies.

She’s never heard anyone say it like that.

“Beautiful name. Very fitting.” The flirtatious compliment is one she’s heard too many times to count, but hearing it come from him makes it feel like the sweetest thing she’s ever heard. Their close proximity has her catching a whiff of his cologne mixed with.. cigarettes?

Her thighs clench involuntarily.

Javier takes her hand in his as she extends it to greet him. Instead of going in for a handshake, he brings it up to his lips and places a soft kiss against her knuckles. It has her tingling all over; electricity sprouting from the spot where the kiss is planted. She can’t help the way her blush deepens at the action, and she almost wants to slap herself for reacting so easily.

Dating isn't a priority in Paloma’s life. Any man worth having in this town is already taken and the rest are nothing but a waste of time. Just some fun for her to have, hooking up with a handful of them whenever her fingers couldn’t get the job done. 

It is rare when there's an eligible newcomer and even then she is too preoccupied with keeping the family home in shape and her music to even think about dating. She is aware of the way the gossips in town talk about her, disliking that she is a single and childless twenty-six year old woman.

“She should be married by now. At her age I already had three kids.”

“It’s so sad, really.”

“I’ve heard she’s given it up to about half the boys in town.”

They gasp and glance over at her over their shoulders. Paloma pretends she doesn’t see them do this.

Her true love, aside from music, is that of traveling. She wants nothing more than to leave Seminary all together and head west, see what the rest of the world has to offer. Take a chance on her music... make a name for herself.

Unfortunately for her, she’s got some heavy family ties here in Texas (her father) and after the death of her mother— she wouldn’t dare leave him. The guilt would eat her alive.

Was it fair for her to give up her aspirations just to keep one person happy? No… but things aren’t always fair and she has a decent life here in Seminary. She doesn't have to worry about paying any bills or surviving on her own; though she knows she’s more than capable of doing so if she really had to. She only has that job at the library to help pass the time whenever she’s not buried in a book or playing her day away on the piano. Any money she receives is stashed away in an old jewelry box in the back of her closet in case one day she finally decides to leave.

All that to say that romantically, men aren't something she focuses on. However, this man in particular, she could spare some of her attention to. Something about his swagger is attractive. He shifts his weight onto one foot and pokes his hip out slightly; giving her a good view of his built figure.

“Clever and charming. Guess daddy was right about you.” Paloma cocks her head to the side slightly, taking in his appearance better now that he was closer and damn, is he handsome. The type of handsome that you only see on TV. 

He’s clad in a long sleeve, forest colored shirt with a few buttons undone at the top; a gold chain teasing her against his brown skin. He’s rolled the sleeves up on the shirt up to his elbows and she notices how rugged he looks, veins on his forearms flexing ever so slightly. Tight cowboy jeans are paired with some expensive looking brown leather boots and a nice belt to tie it all in together.

Her eyes travel up from his body to his countenance, noticing how truly handsome and mature he is. Like he’s experienced things she’d never come close to imagining. She wants to know it all. The full 70s looking pornstache above his lip somehow very appealing to Paloma, whose ‘type’ up until this moment has been clean cut, military boys.

He is anything but clean cut, and she likes that. 

His lips full, nose very distinguished with a devilish curve and… stable looking. A perfect seat for her to perch herself on. She can practically feel it nudging against her clit before he completely devours her.

A lazy yet cocky lopsided smile tugs at his lips, as if he can see the filthy thoughts in her head. “Already talking me up, I see.” he greets Romeo, whom Paloma hadn’t realized had stepped outside since she was too preoccupied eye fucking the stranger in front of her. 

“Didn’t tell her nothin’ that wasn’t true. What’s that you got there?” The older man gestures to the container.

“I could spot Betty’s homemade banana puddin’ with my eyes closed.” Paloma speaks up, trying to recover from the slight embarrassment she feels for thinking so sinfully about him.

Javier’s onyx colored eyes meet hers again and she looks away almost bashfully, occupying herself by finally gathering her things.

“I couldn’t show up empty handed. Ma woulda slapped me right upside the head. Where are your manners, niño (boy) ?” He does what she would assume is an impression of his mother and this gets a giggle out of her.

She is utterly interested in getting to know him better.

“On behalf of us, you can thank your mother for instilling manners into ya. Come on in, we cleaned for once.” He jokes, ushering his company in and she just rolls her eyes playfully at her father’s antics.

The night turns out to be very enjoyable for Javi. He is in good company and the dinner provided, cooked by Paloma since she didn’t let her father take credit for any of it, definitely helped soothe over some of the smaller, sore spots left by Colombia. 

They laugh and swap stories, Javier shares some of his more lighthearted moments in the country down south while Paloma and Romeo try to out-embarrass each other with different family tales.

It helps to have some eye candy, though, as he finds it difficult to keep his eyes away from her longer than a few seconds. Even while the sheriff is in direct conversation with him, Javier can see her from his peripheral and how she also can’t seem to peel her gaze from him.

Murphy always gave him a ‘hard time’ about his effect on women and how Javier used it to his advantage. It’s the only way he got shit rollin’ down in Colombia. The only people that approached him willingly were the working ladies that resided in the city.

And who was he to turn down a good, even great time?

Quickly enough, word had spread amongst the girls and next thing he knew; he had a list of ‘informants’ so long that even he began to lose track.

It was simple, getting information from them then taking them back to his place… his car… or the bar restroom. Whatever was most convenient.

Most of the time they would come to him with bullshit leads just to see him again, and most of the time he would just give them what they wanted, which was just another blissful night with Agent Peña.

Something about Paloma, however, gives him the impression that he wouldn’t fuck her how he did those girls down south. Not unless she asked… begged him to, at least.

He’d make sure to kiss every inch of her golden skin, make her feel good and satisfied before burying himself deep inside her. What’d he do to see those pretty lips parted with his name falling from them like a prayer.

“You should sing him somethin’. ”

Romeo’s suggestion has Javier raising his brows and snapping him out of his thoughts.

They’ve moved out onto the porch, taking in the peacefulness of the night and the clear view of all stars the littered the unobscured sky. The banana pudding long gone.

“I am not some show pony you can just make do tricks whenever you like, old man.” She retorts playfully from her spot on the top of the porch steps, meddling with the rings on her fingers.

From this angle, Javier is able to get a better look at those thighs he’s been fantasizing about all night. Is it a terrible move to go after your quote un quote ‘bosses’ daughter after just meeting her? Probably, but Javi’s done worse and he’s picked up that she seems to be very keen to his subtle advances. Or not subtle, depending on how well he is able to hide any type of direct flirtation with his natural charisma.

“You shy to?” Javi asks her, lighting the cigarette that rests between his lips. He is a pro at chain smoking, this making it the fourth one he’s smoked in the last hour that they’ve been out here. 

She snorts, shaking her head and looking over at him. When their gazes meet, he can’t help the shadow of a smirk hover his lips and she slightly narrows her eyes at him.

“That one? Shy? The last damn word I’d use to describe her.” Romeo takes a swig from the scotch he’s poured, pointing at his daughter. “Sometimes I can’t get her to shut up.”

“Wow, and father of the year goes to…” She replies sarcastically, standing which allows Javier to let his eyes linger over her body, taking a long drag from the cigarette to keep his perverted thoughts at bay.

Like how he wanted to feel her thighs wrapped around his waist. Or better, his head.

“I’m just teasin’. She’s got such an angelic voice, I never get tired of hearin’ her sing.” The sincerity in Romeo’s tone pulls Javier out of his ogling, attention now over to the older man. 

“You should come see her at The Whiskey Fox weekend nights. Puts on one hell of a show.” She leans back against the railing, crossing one foot over the other. This causes the shorts of her romper to rise up slightly, exposing more of her skin.

Like a moth to a flame, he’s eyeing her once more but doesn’t make it as obvious. He wouldn't want to be chased out of here by a shotgun wielding, overprotective father.

“Is The Whiskey Fox the spot to go to in town?” Javier asks to no one in particular, ashing his cigarette on the small plate that sits on the small table between him and the sheriff.

“More like the only spot in town. It’s a bar with a stage, n’they have the best loaded fries. Swear.” She informs him, once again commanding his undivided attention.

No matter how many times he looks at her, he’s still taken aback by how breathtakingly beautiful she is.

“Well if you swear then I guess I’ll have to stop by some time.” He nods his head towards her and she smiles softly, pushing herself off the railing.

“Just give me a heads up when you decide to make your first appearance.” He hears a hint of flirtatiousness in her statement, as if she’s rolling the ball in his court to make the first move. 

As badly as he wants to take her up on that, thinking on a whim like he always has; Javier stops from doing so. This was a chance for him to start anew, amend for all the mistakes he made in Colombia.

But she’s making it very difficult for him to.

Did he really have any intention of changing if all it takes to throw caution in the wind is one pretty girl?

“As much as I’d love to stay in the pleasure of y’alls company….” She runs her hands down the front of her outfit and begins to head inside, “I have to be up early to open the library. You still takin’ me, daddy?” She asks the sheriff softly, stopping by the front door and Javier looks away, glancing out into the distance.

The older man grumbles out, “Yeah. We gotta get that car of yours up and runnin’ though. Don’t know how many free rides I got left in me.” The statement piques Javier’s interest and he can’t help but to rejoin the conversation.

“Got car problems?” He looks between them two, gaze lingering over her as she speaks up. 

“Yeah, my Darla quit on me ‘bout a month ago. Mechanic in town can’t seem to fix the problem.” Paloma seems annoyed by that fact and that has him offering to help before his own brain can stop him from doing so.

“I restored my truck. Had some help from my pops but I pretty much got her up and runnin’ all by myself.” Javier takes another puff of his cigarette, keeping a small smirk at bay as he catches Paloma’s attention drift over to his vehicle in interest. “I wouldn’t mind takin’ a look at yours. If that’s okay. ”

Her father also lets out a sign of content, “That’d be fuckin’ great, Javi. Godsend this guy, poppin’ into town and helpin’ me solve all my goddamn problems. What’s it been— not even a day? Shiiit.” Romeo lets out a laugh, finishing off the contents in his short glass.

Javier would usually find this amount of praise annoying–– ass kissing to keep him content in the shitty position he’s been put it in. However, in this instance, he doesn’t really mind it. It would also give him an opportunity to get to know Paloma better without it crossing over into more nefarious territory.

“Yeah, very sweet of you. I’d really appreciate that.” Yet another glimpse of her enchanting smile. She bends down to place a kiss on her father’s cheek and then waves at him. “Good night y’all. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Peña.” Even though Javi had already told her to call him by his first name earlier, he can’t help but enjoy the way his surname pushes past her lips. That sweet voice of hers sounding like pure honey.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Miss Leighton.”

[ouroborosorder]

what do you think the most stellar examples of arknights' vfx are?

Okay so there are a lot of examples, so I'm going to try to keep my description of each one short. Unsurprisingly, most of my favorite effects are on more recent, paid skins for fan-favorite/meta 6* operators, since those are the ones they put their whole ass into.

Executor the Ex Foedere. The way that it weaves blasts of light and the shapes of Sankta wings into his shotgun blasts is absurdly creative. Perfect for a saint of Laterano.

Passenger's Skin. Specifically his S3. Stellar lightning is a weird pitch, but it's so fucking beautiful that it works. This is the effect that convinced me that I might enjoy being a VFX artist after all, not fucking kidding.

Jessica Alter. Look. Her skills are underwhelming as fuck, they're all the same shot effects every time. But. Do you genuinely understand how amazing these gunshots look? Do you know how hard it is to make a stylized gunshot that doesn't just look like magic? These are breathtakingly good. The glass shattering on hit genuinely made my jaw drop when I first saw it.

Eyjafjalla the Hvit Aska. It's hard to make a healer that genuinely looks unique, but Eyjalter's dreamlike colors and flat effects manage to bring the visual style of So Long Adele into every map and make it look reasonable with the artstyle.

Kirin R Yato. Monster Hunter's effects are extremely distinct, and seeing them recreate MH's style in Arknights' is really lovely. My one sorrow is that I wish there was more lightning, since like. Kirin.

Lin. Glass is a legitamately hard thing to pull off because it so often just looks like crystal, but leaning more into glass dust and shards makes it work perfectly. Her skin is also quite pretty, but it loses the glass look that made me love Lin to begin with.

Reed the Flame Shadow. Holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit fire made of flowers?? The way the fire looks secondary to the whole thing while being undeniably present is stunning. Her skin is nowhere near as good tho.

Penance. Penance has such a stunning aesthetic that it immediately endeared me to her. Her vibe of gilded thorny chains carries to her effects and it works.

Texas the Omertosa. Fucking. Duh. It's hard to make a normal sword swipe look unqiue but Texas nails it. Her skin's effects are even more stunning, even if the animations are awful.

Minimalist. It's hard to make effects that are minimalist and still look good.

Specter the Unchained + Skin. I need to specificially call out her skin. Her skin may be one of my favorite pieces of effects at all time. The colors, the aegirian poetry as part of the visuals, the stellar water, it's all practically perfect.

Kazemaru. A sleeper hit!! She's got a lot going on with the "paper-controlling ninja whose clone has a completely unique aesthetic" thing so it seems like she might be too busy, but it manages to pull it off. Shoutouts to her clone's spawn, which actually does the slash mesh slightly wrong intentionally because the ring look actually helps a lot.

Goldenglow. It's rare that I see a lightning character and say "I have never seen anything like that before in my life" and Goldenglow's pink and blue stylized lightning genuinely shocked me.

Ling (Does it Wash The Strings). If you want my choice for best VFX in the game, this would at least be in running for first. It's flashy as hell, but manages to not be overbearing. The S3 dragon attacking with mountains rising from the earth alone is stunning, but the normal attack impact is my favorite part of the entire thing. It's so simple and elegant and stylish.

Amiya Guard. Amiya's Guard form is the combination of Amiya's Arts, Sarkaz Arts, Ch'en's swordfighting, the normal AK Arts and sword design languages, and a tiny bit of weird space tech to represent the Precursors. And it manages to come together to something that feels really cohesive while still drawing attention to how incongruous these elements are. The effects actively tell the story of Amiya - a girl with big shoes to fill, carrying the legacy of so many.

Ceobe, and her Unfettered Freedom skin. At this point in Arknights' lifespan, they had a much more defined visual language for how Casters look compared to melee units. Ceobe, being a Caster who throws fucking enchanted melee weapons instead of casting spells? So she combines their languages, with the buildup and trails of Arts casters and impacts of melee units, it's subtle and I love it. Unfettered Freedom deserves a special shoutout because I love geometric magic so fucking much.

Conviction's Skin. Why is this so good they're a joke operator.

Dorothy's Skin. I may have mixed opinions on this skin, but the effects are objectively stunning. I am personally heartbroken that she doesn't have the sand anymore, but that's a personal thing. I also don't like that her S3's range is obfuscated by the explosion but again that's nitpicking.

There's probably WAY more that I've missed and even more I cut for time, but those are my favorites after browsing the list of operators and skins for like, two hours straight. If there are a few I missed... Look, this list is this long already.

Also note that I didn't really list enemies or anything other than playable operators. Their enemy effects are usually... servicable, with a few standout exceptions with Talulah and Frostnova.

[sixty-silver-wishes]

well, it's fourth of july. if you're like me, and you're in the us, you're probably feeling pessimistic right now, given the state of things. I made a joke post about how I feel about it the other day that blew up, and tbh I'm not surprised. that being said, I'd like to talk a bit more in detail about my thoughts on the matter this year.

so, to begin with, it's pretty obvious why I'm feeling so disillusioned this year. the us presidential election isn't looking good, fascism is on the rise and seems to be met mainly with apathy, the us is aiding in genocide in gaza, while many politicians are restricting the rights of american civilians, especially those belonging to marginalized groups- abortion is being criminalized, as is trans healthcare, and rulings have been upheld gerrymandering black-majority voting districts, not to mention the state of education surrounding POC and queer history. the supreme court is out of control. climate change gets worse every year, with consequences all around the world; hurricane beryl's early arrival and its devastation of the caribbean was just one more instance of the worsening state of the environment. russia is still invading ukraine, with global tensions worsening as multiple major powers battle for global prominence. all that is to say, it's a scary time to live pretty much anywhere in the world, and given the slew of problems in the united states, it's impossible to feel a shred of patriotism as many people of prominence in our country either worsen or are otherwise complicit in many of the aforementioned issues.

all that being said, I want to begin by saying that I don't think you're necessarily a bad person if you celebrate fourth of july. I don't think guilting people is a productive way to go about things, or to alleviate any feelings of cognitive dissonance. I don't know why everyone is celebrating; maybe you want to focus on the positive aspects of american culture, such as its diversity or the accomplishments of those who have been able to advocate for themselves despite oppression from within their own country. or maybe you just want a day off to spend with your family and friends, without anything to do with america. what you do today is your business, and it's not up to me to police what you should or shouldn't do.

I do, however, want to offer some resources for those of you like me, who feel like we can't celebrate. I don't think we should be paralyzed by guilt and do nothing, but I also acknowledge that what we can do varies from person to person. maybe you can do a mix of both- spend the day with your family while also taking time to engage with these resources. You don't have to engage with all of them, but I would appreciate if people took the time with these resources, whether it means educating themselves on various issues or donating money to a cause. So, here are some I think deserve some attention:

NDN Collective: NDN Collective is an Indigenous-led organization that focuses on sustainability, the Land Back movement, intersectional activism, and climate justice.

Native Land Digital: This interactive digital map shows the location of precolonial Indigenous land around the world, so you can find whose land you're living on. Clicking on a location on the map may provide you with links affiliated with specific tribes or Indigenous groups, allowing you to learn more about the history, culture, and issues regarding Indigenous peoples in the area where you live. For instance, I live on Seminole land, and clicking on the Seminole area of the map leads me to the official Seminole tribe website.

The Afiya Center: The Afiya center is a Texas-based organization that focuses on reproductive health issues regarding Black women and AFAB people in Texas. This includes abortion and contraceptive resources, as well as preventing STI's.

Zebra Youth: Zebra Youth is a Florida-based organization that provides resources to LGBT adolescents, such as housing and mental health resources.

Operation Olive Branch: Operation Olive Branch is a spreadsheet that contains various verified fundraisers to help people evacuate or survive in Gaza during the current genocide.

Healing Our Homeland: An organization that delivers food and humanitarian relief to Palestinians.

Nova Ukraine: Delivers humanitarian relief to Ukraine.

ASAN: Autism Self-Advocacy Network- An autistic-led organization that aims to better representation for autistic people, provide educational resources, and improve accommodations.

This article contains links to relief efforts to help the victims of Hurricane Beryl.

Of course, please remember to vote this year! As bad as the choices are, either a democrat or a republican will be the president in 2025, and organizing for progress is going to be a hell of a lot easier under one than the other. For now, let's continue to uplift our communities, provide support where we can, and continue to learn about intersectional issues and diverse viewpoints.

[lonestarbattleship]

April 2, 2024 update from the Battleship Texas Foundation

"Yeehaw everyone!

Battleship Texas back in the water at Gulf Copper Shipyard.

We apologize for the short break we took on getting an update out. Battleship Texas Foundation staff have been adjusting to life with the ship back in the water, taking some time off, and attending events across Texas.

Looking at the ship's foremast.

While it may not look like much work is going on at the ship, we have kept Gulf Copper busy! See our latest update.

It has been just about one month since #battleshiptexas returned to the water. The ship is currently moored at Pier D in Gulf Copper Shipyard, where it will continue to undergo repairs and preparations to become a museum ship once again!

Workers have removed remnants from older museum fixtures that are no longer needed. This is another big step forward in returning the ship to its 1945 appearance.

DECK DRAINAGE REPAIR

We are continuing to repair the ship's upper decks drains and systems to ensure they do not collect water and eliminate standing water. This is being done to the ship's superstructure, aft fire control tower, main mast, and on the decks below.

New drain pipes have been added to the ship's superstructure. This will help eliminate standing water on the ship's upper decks.

AFT FIRE CONTROL RESTORATION

The ship's aft fire control tower is looking great! The mullions for the windows are fitted, floater net baskets added, and more. These repairs and additions will help return the ship to its 1945 appearance.

The ship's aft fire control tower is looking great! The mullions for the windows are fitted, floater net baskets added, and more. These repairs and additions will help return the ship to its 1945 appearance.

New drainage pipes that will help keep standing water out of aft fire control.

Note the floater net baskets that have been added.

RADAR TOP MAST

The radar top mast has been removed from the ship's main mast and will receive structural repairs before being placed back on the ship.

The radar top mast has been removed from the ship's main mast and will receive structural repairs before being placed back on the ship.

The ship's main mast is undergoing repairs.

Holes in the deck on the ship's main mast. These are going to be repaired.

Old and rotten steel deck has been removed while newer steel will replace it.

CAPTAIN'S CABIN MAP

Captiv Creative visited the ship to take some pictures of the restored map painted on a bulkhead in the captain's cabin. These pictures will be used for historical documentation, potential future interactive exhibits, and a new item coming to our direct mail. Keep an eye out!

Captiv Creative photographs the map in the captain's cabin.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS:

The rebuilt gun director tubs on both sides of the ship's conning tower have had drains installed.

WHAT'S NEXT? - Battleship Texas will remain at Gulf Copper Shipyard for until her new home is ready for her. Additional steel work, removal and replacement of the ship's deck, and superstructure/aft fire control restoration will continue. And painting the topsides!

TOURING? - The Battleship Texas Foundation is working on new touring opportunities before the ship reopens.

REOPENING? - There is a lot to be done before the ship is ready for touring at its new home in Galveston, Texas. Reopening is projected to happen sometime in the later half of 2025.

Come on Texas!

To donate to the preservation and operation of Battleship Texas, please visit: https://battleshiptexas.org/

Support Battleship Texas by making a purchase through the ship's store: https://store. battleshiptexas.org"

Posted on the Battleship Texas Foundation Facebook page: link

[asherscoffin]

Basic Information and Backstory Summary for Misha Polikarp.

Name: Misha Lector Polikarp

Age: 22

Height: 6'1

Gender: Cis male(he/him)

Sexuality: Pansexual

Nationality: Russian-American

Mental health: ADHD, schizoaffective disorder, bipolar disorder

Special physical features: A mole under the left corner of his bottom lip. His torso, legs, and upper arms are littered with scars, both self-inflicted and from fights. Pointed teeth.

Weapons of choice: Things that cut. (Knives, machete, etc.)

Paranoid especially from the fact he is being hunted. Stubborn. Hypersexual, longs for touch and companionship. Morals are extremely broken. Chaotic and unpredictable with no filter. Self-indulgent and untrustworthy, but simultaneously loyal and doting to those he attaches himself to. Unconcerned to a sadomasochistic degree. Roguishness and boredom turned him into an adrenaline junkie. His fatal flaw is probably egotism; everything is a joke to him until he is the punchline.

Visual representations created using Picrew:

BACKSTORY SUMMARY:

Misha was born and raised in Russia. His fathers name being Tomas, a hitman there who occasionally kills in other countries too. At some point, his family moved to Ukraine where he lived for the rest of his early childhood. Olena, Misha's mother, was fully aware of this "business" Tomas had... And she was rather indifferent, being a cold and morbidly fascinated person herself.

Although eventually Misha noticed his parents becoming distant from each other and having more and more arguments. They would never share with him what these arguments were about, they were always kept secret from him. His mother finally left them a year or so later, and it wasn't long until Tomas took Misha and moved to America. Misha didn't understand why such measures had to be taken at the time. Why did mother leave? Why did they have to move?

After several years since moving to America, Misha had eventually forgotten about his mother. He was 17 with a new start at life, and his father worked to train him well in the field of killing. Tomas's goal was for Misha to take over the "business" someday, which Misha wasn't against since it'd been what he was raised for. Though it wasn't like he didn't like killing either.

One day, Tomas had gone away for a week on a mission, leaving Misha alone in the house. During the boredom, Misha eventually found himself going through his father's belongings since it'd always been off limits before.

He would come to discover that Tomas and him had been getting hunted down by the Russian Mafia as revenge for Tomas killing one of their members, which explained his mother's departure early on. It explained everything that happened, why they moved.

With weeks passing with his father absent paired with this new information, Misha grew paranoid until a package showed up at their doorstep to confirm his fears. Fearing for his life, he fled until he had wiped himself off the map.

Going on 22 now, Misha has found himself a somewhat safe and desolate location in Texas, having hidden himself away in an abandoned apartment building. Having slipped into madness, he's continued murdering in exchange for money and other satisfactions while having the dayjob of being a pharmacist.

Special thanks to @oddogoblino for proofreading + co-writing the background summary!

Special thanks to @whimster and @dexsmex for their psychoanalysis on Misha's personality!

[godlizzza]

for the prompts, how about Herbert ends up growing his hair out while Dan and him are on the run from the police so that he’s not so easily recognizable and Dan unexpectedly really really likes the change to his appearance?

"This is cute," Dan commented suddenly in the middle of breakfast.

Herbert glanced up from the map he'd been pouring over since they sat down at the rickety wicker dining table set up in the motel room. He'd been charting their course, dotting the places they'd been spotted by law enforcement and trying to plan their next move. Currently they were just bouncing from place to place, trying to evade capture and avoid suspicion. Their success thus far in both departments had been spotty.

Dan was staring across at him, his chin in his hand and tracing the handle of his coffee mug. He hadn't shaved in a few days and was sporting stubble that was threatening to grow into a beard. Herbert didn't dislike it but found the bristly brush of Dan's cheek against his as they kissed to be distracting.

"What's cute?" Herbert asked, peering over the rim of his glasses where they'd slid down his nose.

"Your hair," Dan answered, eyes somewhere above Herbert's eyebrows. "It's getting long."

Herbert reached up and brushed a few errant hairs off his forehead. It was true. He'd already been in need of a haircut when they'd had to abruptly leave their last place of work and residence, and hadn't had the time or effort to tend to it while they were busy being wanted fugitives. It was funny how things like personal grooming got tossed to the wayside when threatened with incarceration.

"I suppose it is," Herbert replied curtly, fixing his attention back on the map. Perhaps they could head further south. Texas, maybe? "Maybe I should cut it."

"I mean," Dan began, snaking one hand across the table to slide along Herbert's arm and up to cup his cheek, "you don't have to. It might actually be good to grow it out. Change up your appearance." He grinned and twirled a lock of Herbert's hair around his finger. "Like a disguise."

Herbert snorted, though Dan's smile was contagious, and he found himself fighting the corners of his mouth to stay down. "This isn't some Hollywood spy movie, Dan. I'm not going to transform into a whole new person with a couple extra inches of hair."

"Maybe not," Dan conceded, "but I still don't think you should cut it."

Herbert raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Dan tugged on the piece of his hair and said simply, "Because I like it."

Dan had been made to give up many things to stick by Herbert's side through everything that had happened (and would continue to happen). He made so many concessions when it came to his own comfort and happiness. If playing with Herbert's hair brought him even an ounce of joy, then Herbert thought he could deal with the annoyance of hair falling over his eyes. If it meant Dan could smile, then it was worth it.

"Fine," Herbert relented, ignoring Dan's covert fist-pump. "But you're shaving today."

[alba8688]

Texas

Eddie Munson and Corroded coffin get the deal of a lifetime and as soon as they graduate they head to California but get lost in the way meeting new people one nights stands that Eddie left behind in Texas where they got lost and after 5yrs he meets that one night stand again giving him the surprise of his life ..

Warnings throughout the story mentions of smut and everything smutty,fluff angst ,Eddie munson and fem,Fem and other character ..

No ones pov

In a beat up van ,1971 Chevrolet Beauville Sports van to be exact in a road somewhere in Texas where Four friends heading to California to live up there dream of becoming Rockstars .

But what they didn't know was that they where heading the wrong way all because Jeff decided to trust a map Better than his own GPS on his cellphone, now here Was Eddie driving to God knows where .

Well he thinks he is driving to California but in reality he is really lost but he doesn't realized it yet because he is too lost in his music .

Especially now That Metallica started playing on the radio .

Eddie was paying less attention to the road .

Just heading straight like Jeff told him .

His fingers drumming on the wheel to the beat of the song .

Eddie raise up the volume not caring about his 3 friends sleeping in the back seat.

It was Metallica so that was his excuse in case they woke up .

🎶".Born to push you around

Better just stay down

You pull away

He hits the flesh

You hit the ground

Mouth so full of lies

Tend to block your eyes

Just keep them closed

Keep praying

Just keep awaiting

Waiting for the one

The day that never comes

When they stand up and feel the warmth

But the sunshine never comes, no

No, the sunshine never comes

Push you cross that line

Just stay down this time

Hide in yourself

Crawl in yourself

You'll have your time

Eddie was so lost in the song that he was playing his air guitar, that for a moment  there he forgot he was driving and the van swerve but Eddie got the steering wheel again and got control of the van again .

He looked back to see if his friends had noticed but the were all sleeping peacefully.

God, I'll make them pay

Take it back one day

I'll end this day

"Holy shit !" He laughed ,and continue driving .

But this time he tried not to get distracted by the music .

I'll splatter color on this grave

Waiting for the one

The day that never comes

When they stand up and feel the warmth

But the sunshine never comes

Love is a four letter word

And never spoken here

Love is a four letter word

Here in this prison

I suffer this no longer

I'll put an end to

This I swear

This I swear

The sun will shine

This I swear

This I swear

This I swear."🎶

Eddies pov

"Saddle up ?" If we weren't in a hurry I might had stop there for something to eat that im starving but right now we are in a tight schedule having to be in California in a few days .

We could have taken an airplane but our private jet wasn't working this week .

Yeah no we are too broke too afford a damn airplane .

We didn't know if this was a crazy idea just heading out to California to meet up With Robert Davis from Loud Records he had seen us playing at The Hideout on a Tuesday before school

Was out .

He said he like our music and he thought we could be something big .

He gave us his business card and told us to have something original from us to play for him

And his team the next time we saw him and  the day after we call  him and now here we where in my van on our way to California a place where we don't know anyone .

A new beginning for my band and myself .

It was hard at first because I didn't want to leave my uncle and friends behind but I promise them I would be back .

I promised my uncle I was getting him out of that job I promise to buy him a new house and new car and I was planning on keeping my promise but first we got to get to California .

I check the time on my cellphone it was way past 10pm and I was actually getting tired we haven't stop To rest unless we had to pump gas .

Our rest time was when the next person had to

Drive and the next was me an hour ago .

I should have slept More when I had the chance but I was too busy watching cat videos instead of sleeping.

And now I regret my decisions.

It felt like I was driving for hours when I'm reality only an hour had passed but I was already so damn tired .

We been driving for two days already and we where supposed to be there by today so I don't know what we did wrong. I think one of us made a wrong turn  because all i saw was  grass and what seem to be like wheat or cotton fields .

"What the Fuck ?"i squint my eyes to read the sign that we passed by .I had to do  a double look because I thought I read "Welcome to Austin Texas ."

Suddenly the Van's engine begins to sputter and  there was a loud bang coming from the engine I pull over to the side of the road turning off the van and got down to check what was wrong with it .

"Jesus Christ !" There was smoke coming out from under the hood .

"You got to be Fucking kidding me !!" I shouted almost pulling the hairs from my head

This can't be happening right now !!

"This is bullshit !!" I kick at nothing almost tripping with nothing from antics.

"Why we stop ?" a sleepy Gareth and Jeff get down confused as to why we where parked in the middle of nowhere followed by Anthony our other band member.

"Why?!?"WHY!!! I was hysterical the van broke down and we where in Fucking Texas Far away from fucking California .

"Jesus Christ !! What you do to the van dude ?" Gareth pops open the hood of the van and more smoke comes out .

Gareth starts coughing "Yeah that's not working ." He tells me

"Where the Fuck are we ?" Jeff looked around at our sourroundings

"Austin Texas ." I tell him

"Texas ?"Anthony question me

"Yup Texas ." I say popping the p

Both Gareth and Jeff looked at me as if i was stupid or I had insulted them .

"What the fuck are we doing in Austin Texas ?"

"I don't know man." I sat down in the middle

Of the street trying to think of what to do we where in the middle of nowhere and then I remember that a few miles back there was a bar maybe we should Go there .

I got up and grabbed my bag  from the van.

"Get your bags we are walking ." I told the guys

"To where ?" They both asked at the same time .

"I saw a bar a few miles back maybe they could help us or we can wait till the morning to

Find a mechanic .

So that's what we did we got our bags and made sure to lock the van because Gareth's drum set was in the back .

Jeff ,Anthony and I brought out guitars with us .

So now to walk 5 miles back to Saddle up .

Hopefully we can find a mechanic .

@dashingdeb16 it’s here let’s see how it goes

Next chapter

[xdivinedecay]

It's been a minute — I have been so busy. I actually had some amazing things that I was working on sharing here at some point once I could come up for air. And then, this week happened.

Like many of you I'm sure, this week was not the week I thought I would be having. Somehow, for the election cycle up until the day before the election, I wasn't worried. On election day, I was promptly struck with a budding anxiety about where things could go. I went to bed feeling sick with worry; when I woke up, I spiraled, dissociated, and cried.

The worst part is, at the beginning of this week, I marveled to my wife that I had, for possibly a whole year, been feeling the best I had felt in at least ten years. More than not depressed, but really good. This is huge for me, as someone that has always felt I was born melancholic. Between conditioning, coping mechanisms, and what I do think is pure nature, I've always been a little bit like that. What happened this week could actually cause me significant backsliding on my day-to-day baseline as I begin to worry about my protections as a queer person, as a genderfluid woman, as someone with trans friends and family members, as someone that lives paycheck to paycheck already.

In my years of being a melancholic person by nature, I have also felt the touch of worldly personality traits such as wrath in a way that feels jointed to my aforementioned predisposition. When I feel depressed, I am quicker to feel ire, jealously, spite. I've felt some of those feelings this week, more than I have in a while. But those feelings are ever quicker to fizzle out of me than they ever used to be. I was mad, and I can feel incredulous and impatient often over what is happening now, but I don't feel any off-shoot feelings that I trace back to hate. Honestly, I wish no ill to anyone right now. I don't even want the people who voted for the worst option to become collateral victims of their choices. I think it unfortunately will happen, but I don't wish for it.

I am more fortunate than many others, as I don't live with anyone that targets my identity, nor do I live in a state that was red on the election map. I am supremely fortunate. It makes it scary in a way, that I feel we did everything "right" and yet we're getting dragged into this upcoming reality regardless.

But on Sunday before this all happened, I visited a church that filled my cup with hope and lifted me to make a big step up in some healing I really needed. I'm lucky to have a church that I don't have to hide my identity from. Since then I've heard some amazing, heartening messages in the aftermath during this week. While doomscrolling on TT, I discovered even more voices of Christians with progressive values that reject faux performative Christians who use faith to promote hateful values, and Christian nationalism. There is hope. I need to not succumb to my fear and slip back down the pit I finally crested out of. I want to stay afloat so that maybe I can do something for people who are not in a fortunate environment like mine. I want to be strong so that others don't have to be if they're not ready to be, or simply can't be. If I can keep a clear head, then maybe I can contribute to positive change that will be extended to others that need it most.

In the meantime, I was really heartened by discovering Texas state rep James Talarico, a progressive Christian democrat that supports protecting schools and decries Christianity used for the purposes of hate. I haven't lived in Texas in so long now and I'm not fully aware of all of his agendas, but I've seen some tiktoks of his messaging and commentary about Christian values to promote goodness and loving our neighbors. If TT wasn't sketchy about share links connecting back to your TT account I would link one here, so I'll say his post made on 10/27 of this year left me dumbfounded with appreciation. In times like this, it's nice to hear people with platforms with messaging that resonates with mine, as I start to feel even more like a minority in a raging sea.

I'm praying for all of us. I plan to make another saints list to share, hopefully in the coming week. I still get notifs for the first two I made and I'm glad that they might be helping people that need it. I'm not a scholar or an expert by any means but I'll do my due diligence as I can as I seek out information and make recommendations.

Peace be with all of you. There is still hope for us.