#tbh i don't have the big brain powers for this

[g3llyfish]

Hey I wanted to request something funny.

Like redson and macaque ( separately ) kidnaps one of mk’s friends, fem s/o and they start laughing ( not like mocking them ) but more like ( I can’t believe this happened ) while saying “ no no I’m sorry..it’s just..this is the most effort a man has ever put into me 😂 “

Idk i thought it was funny in my head 🤔 hope this was okay

"DELUSIONAL"

Redson x FEM! reader x Macaque (Seperate)

Either platonic or romantic

Redson and Macaque judging the reader, Reader being delulu, MK just wants his best friend back TT

NOTE:

MY FIRST ASJ AAA Tbh, it can also be considered as GN!reader cause I mostly do second pov but I still hope you enjoy!!

🔥 || REDSON !!

It has been a few week of him trying to defeat the noodle boy to get his staff

As expected, he fails again and again, machines after machines being crushed by that stupid staff and that stupid monkey boy

Knowingly that there's no use for his machines since they only go to his scrap corner

Until an idea pops up in his big demon smart boy brain

What if he kidnaps someone who is dear to MK and bargain them for the staff!

I mean, if that stupid noodle boy loves his friends so much he would do everything to get his best friend back!

Brilliant! Amazing plan even!

Meanwhile, you were hanging out with Mei and MK in the anti-gravity arcade, having the greatest time if your life

Until the ceiling broke down...

You were immediately grabbed by the demon bull clones and tied up so you wouldn't escape.

     "Redson?! Get back here with our best friend!" MK shouted at the bull prince who has you in his arms as you struggle.

     "Never! Catch me if you can, noodle boy and dragon horse girl!" Redson yells back as he laughs dramatically and surrounds him, you, and the bull clones with his fire to teleport away.

     Now you are hung from the ceiling in his lair, if that's what you like to call it considering the lava pool, tools, materials, engines, and many more are laying around the gigantic room.

     "Let me go!" You demanded "What are you planning now, Redson? Y'know MK is gonna MK.O!!™ you again right?"

     Redson scoffs a laugh, lifting up his welding mask to look up at your hanging state as he puts down his blowtorch.

     "After I finish my invention, we will go up to the mountain where my father was imprisoned..." He started to monologue "and then... I will exchange your life for the staff! ...that noodle boy cares for you so much that he will give it to me willingly! And once I have the staff is mine... MY FATHER WILL GAIN HIS POWER AND BE THE GREATEST RULER OF THE WORLD!"

     Redson's dark and overdramatic laughs echoes through the room as the lava's light reflected behind him, creating a giant menacing shadow of himself on the walls.

     Meanwhile you only blink twice at him, not being effected by the intimidating aura that the prince made.

     "You think I'm worth more than the staff?" "What"

     "Well, you basically said that I'm the same price as the staff... Do you think I'm that special?" You grin at him while he was only flabbergasted by your words.

     "W-what?! NO YOU IDIO--" "I don't know, like, you kidnapping me, thinking that I'm enough to be exchanged with the staff, you could've picked Mei but you chose me!"

     Redson gave you a dumbfounded look, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as you explain your conclusion.

     "Like, you took effort to kidnap me, you think I'm that worth of effort? No one has ever done that for me" You continue as you sniffle a bit.

     "Did-did you forget about the part where I said about my world domination?" Redson simply ask as he gives you a deadpanned stare.

     "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm just so happy right now, you think I'm worth more than the staff? You think I'm that unique?" "Shut up, you're delusional."

While he made his invention to secure his plan, you were in the background trying to make him admit that he thinks you're special

You're not what he thinks you are that's for sure, with you being a giggling mess while you're LITERALLY CAPTURED BY TYE DEMON BULL PRINCE

He expected you to be like MK and Mei, someone who wrecklessly fighting anything that move...

Not someone who is off to delulu land with quips at the back of your hand

He definitely regrets the kidnapping plan

🍌 || MACAQUE !!

After the 'stealing-wukong's-powers-from-MK' plan didn't work, he couldn't find anymore information or updates in MK's life

Macaque has to keep a close eye on him afterall, considering he is Wukong's apprentice

So why not get one of MK's best friends? He can't just lurk in the shadows

Sure, that'll work but he needs more dept and personal stuff about MK, to find something to hold him back

So while you were on your way back home, not paying attention to your surroundings that was when Macaque took the opportunity.

You took a step and before you knew it, you were falling down to the ground into a theater place for shadow puppet shows.

You landed on your back on the wooden ground, making you raise your brow in confusion cause you remember that you were walking on a pedestrian.

As you look around the place, you hear a dark echoey chuckle from behind you making the hair on your skin rise.

You stood up immediately to see none other than the shadow of the six-eared Macaque.

"Hey, doll..." He chuckles again, his grin getting wider as his shadow shrinks and he turns into his monkey form.

"Macaque?! What am I doing here?! Are you here to hurt me?! Well bad luck, monkey!" You glared at him making him smirk.

"Don't worry, don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you, I'm just here to borrow you for a while" Macaque says shrugging, getting closer towards the stage that you stood on.

"Me?" You ask in full confusion, your body relaxing as you put down your defenses.

"Mhm... You see, hiding in the shadow is not enough for getting information and I need you get me some," Macaque answers.

You pause as each side of your lips starts to slowly rise, "Me?"

"Yup, if you don't comply... then I might take back the 'I won't hurt you' part, simple, hm?" Macaque threatens with a hum.

You pause again, longer this time "me?"

"Yes, you..." Macaque sighs as he gives you a 'are you deaf?' look.

You held your laugh for a while before laughing aloud, Macaque, ofcourse felt as if you're underestimating him as he gets a little grumpy at your reaction.

"Wh- why are you laughing huh?!" "Pfft-- sorry! Sorry, sorry, it's just... I don't know it's funny"

"Funny how?" Macaque ask as he raises his eyebrow in frustration and crosses his arms.

"I don't know, you could've chosen anyone that could stalk MK for you but you chose me! Hah! I just didn't expect that someone would actually put effort on me" you laugh out.

"Effort?" Macaque questions, he wouldn't disagree with himself but he's definitely worried for your well-being.

"Yeah, I mean, you could've just sended me a text saying 'give me information or you're dead' text like my other exes, but here we are!" You continue to blabber making Macaque give you a concerned look.

"I-what..." "Yeah! I'm kinda flattered that you put so much effort on me, kidnapping me, tracking me down, watching which street I go to-- okay that's kinda creepy--" "okay, stop"

Macaque has to make you stop so he can continue his plan

He's mostly concerned about you cause who tf reacts like that?

He had to make a deal with you to proceed with his 'information gathering' plan but you always gawk at the fact that he chose you out of all people

Plan unsuccessful (?)

I'm sorry if it isn't to your expectations TT tell me criticisms if you'd like but I still hope you had fun with the fix as much as I did, love you pooksters :P

#🪼gellyfish #lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk fanfiction #six eared macaque #lego monkie kid macaque #lmk macaque #lmk redson #red son monkie kid #red son x reader #macaque x reader #lmk redson x reader #lmk macaque x reader #x reader #gn reader #x female reader #x gn reader #fem reader

[wachtelspinat]

i can't help but feel like my drawing days are kind of over. not entirely, i'll still be drawing from time to time. and deffo not because i want to. but i'm having this exact same feeling since mid 2022, since i was really struggling with my elective period, i kind of disconnected with art there and never truly found my way back. on top of everything that came after - moving, starting a job and working to be good at it which leaves such little room for other things because i can't handle my life well - there is just so much horrible shit going on. and i'm having a hard time comprehending it.

a part of me also feels very stupid for drawing one thing for almost 4 years now constantly, but another part of me knows "hey, but this makes you happy". it's a constant battle in my head because online spaces are like school grounds, and i don't actually wanna stand in the corner as that one kid that just can't shut up about that one character. but then again all i ever did was drawing fanart so... what does it. who gives a shit. be cringe and be free alright. but it kinda feels so hollow, esp. when you're at it for so long. a lot of mutuals move on. some are not even active anymore anywhere. and i wonder what happened. plus a huge chunk of the tone of the fandom has changed. also with the source material getting butchered so hard (since the release of ow2) it just kills the fun. playing this game used to be fun. playing this game was one thing that helped me getting through the last meters of university. it's like watching the downfall of the simpsons again without making the comparison too set in stone, just... this thing that used to be decent and nice and watching it getting ruined in real time (broken promises about pve, the recent gameplay changes?? the lore was fucked up from the start but they kind of tried, now it's just skins for 20+ dollars) while still having feelings for the characters is shit. anyway...

i recently went through a big folder of stuff i'd drawn at the age of 12-15 and there were so many fucked up but cool monster and cyborgs designs and just silly stupid stuff and all i could think of was that i felt so distanced from it, like i don't even know i think this is normal? because a lot of time has passed and a lot has happened and i knew i've drawn all this but i wasn't able to locate the person who did in my present me now and... it's just so normal that things move constantly forward but i feel like i missed huge chunks and passed a few stops and now i'm kind of lost.

i don't even know what i'm trying to say here anymore. i just feel sad because it feels like sth is slipping out of my grasp or sth has changed tremendously and i don't know how to make damage control.

i keep trying tho, i try to draw once a week at least. it's just like as soon as i take a step back and look at it i don't feel it at all. gonna continue tho, until it makes sense again i hope.

#this got a bit deep for saying i don't feel like art and i don't feel like it since 2022 #sorry for whining about this topic for so long already on here and twitter #but i've been drawing since 2004 and i can't deal with the feeling #of it slipping away #also ppl always recommend doing OCs or getting a new hyperfixation but #tbh i don't have the big brain powers for this #can't just switch or come up with sth new on the spot #esp with work #work is just very all consuming on so many lvls

[finniestoncrane]

Gotta be honest with you, I need to hear every single Digger headcanon you have because they 2 you've shared are just so good.

General Headcanons

KTJL!Boomer Headcanons yippee!!! woohoo!!! someone wants to listen to my bullshit!! i am so happy to write down more of my headcanons by the way, but for anyone wanting any make sure to let me know what you want the 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: mentions of nsfw things, it's fuckin boomer so of course, there's a whole load of nsfw headcanons and i mention piss because duh

General Headcanons

this is a sort of universal belief i suppose but i do think he lives in his van and i will live and die by my faith. he likes having everything he needs with him at all times. he will spout some bullshit rhetoric about living a "buddhist" existence with few material goods. and he's half right in that he has two pairs of underwear, and a collection of empty (or maybe not completely empty) beer cans rattling around back there

he's passed out twice while getting tattoos and he will yell and scream and argue that it was because his blood sugar was super low and not because he's a total wuss

he smells amazing. not like... good, don't get me wrong i don't think he smells nice. BUT he smells fuckin great. he has a natural deep musk that just hits the receptors nicely, the kind of smell that's laden with all the right pheromones to engage your caveman brain and have you swooning over him

bad habits (which i count as a bonus tbh) include: picking things: ears, skin, nose, anything. drinking to excess and then never learning a single lesson. masking all of his emotions until he's certain you won't make fun of him for having feelings. pretending to hate people that he loves because he can't be seen getting hurt. leaving his clothes lying around and relying on the smell test to get him through the process of getting dressed. kissing you in the morning before he has brushed his teeth. having no concept of personal space: he will steal blankets, he will curl around you in bed, he will sit too close to you on the sofa, he will hang off your body, he will hug you from behind and not let go, he will stand beside you all the time. refusing to take things seriously until he really has no other option. bad temper, and then defusing the situation by kicking something

yes, he has great tits and strong arms, but in my heart of hearts i know his stomach is not flat and in my head he has the sweetest lil beer gut to ever exist. it gets worse once he's just finished eating or drinking, and he cradles it and makes jokes about it being a girl or a boy. and while they might not have added it into the game, they did add in his sweet lovehandles on those hips, and he likes being grabbed by them and pulled into a hug. reminds him that when he's no longer big buff boomer, you'll still be super into his hot body

i think he's 45 years old fuck you. i think youngest he's 40, there's no way he's near me in age. we can consider sun damage to an extent but he has wrinkles, he's a dad, he's got big ol bags under his eyes and a slightly receding hairline

he's competitive, but not in an aggressive way, more in an annoying way. like you play a board game with him, and he'll do everything in his power to distract you, or use the rules against you. and if he loses, he doesn't go in a big strop, maybe a tiny huff with a few whines. who can refuse him a pity win when he's looking up at you all sad with those big green eyes and batting those silly eyelashes?

if there is something about you that he can mercilessly tease you for (without making you cry) he will harp on about it constantly. it's his way of showing that he's comfortable around you, enough that he can make you want to punch him in the throat. he can give but he can't take though, so remember that before you point out that he is in fact ginger, or that his freckles make him look so cutie-patootie, or that his tattoos are kinda dumb

you have to laugh at his jokes and puns, it's a requirement and he'd be tempted to make you sign a contract saying you will adhere to this rule. it gives him a boost, makes him feel proud. plus he is genuinely very funny, and the dorky nature behind his silly jokes is so endearing

Relationship Headcanons

when he falls for someone, he falls first and he falls hard. he also falls pretty easily, and he's no stranger to heartbreak, but he has his terrible coping methods to keep him going

he finds it easy to find something about everyone that he likes, because he's just prone to liking people. he thinks everything and anything is sexy, and he can find your good traits like a pig sniffing out truffles

he regularly brings home gifts for his partner, stolen or otherwise. no one needs to know how you aquired such an expensive piece of jewellery or that really nice original looking bit of art. maybe you just happen to save a lot of money by living in the back of his van with him!!

gifts are just one of the ways he is surprisingly thoughtful for a boy with no thoughts behind his eyes! dates are another thing he's fuckin stellar at!! wherever you're going and whatever you're doing you are guaranteed to have fun, that's just how he is. he makes everything tolerable, and he can turn a shit day into a great one

he's desperate for friendship, far more than he is for anything romantic or sexual, although if the two could go hand in hand that'd be an ideal scenario. he might claim to be chill and looking for a quick root, but he's far more interested in finding a partner who can be his buddy as well as his lover

there's never going to be a moment when he's not touching his partner by the way, like that is just something you are going to have to put up with

hand on your shoulder, hand in your hand, hand on your waist, hand on your thigh, hand on your back, hands around you as he hugs you from behind, hands around you as he hugs you from the front, hands around you as he hugs you from the side, hand on your butt, hand on your chest, hand on your stomach, hand on your cheek. the man has borderline separation anxiety

holding hands is his favourite though, especially when paired with his habit of loudly announcing your status to anyone within earshot. "oh this is my partner!" "yeah i'm their boyfriend!" "i'm fucking that beautiful bit of arse over there, thanks for asking!" like thank you, digger

he's surprisingly emotional, and surprisingly open once you get past his protective exterior layer. he's still always joking around and trying not to take things seriously, but the minute you or he needs some serious feeling time he is down for it

i don't think he would ever choose a sexuality. personally, i feel like he's bisexual or pansexual, but digger would say he's just sexual. he'll go for anything with a pulse who was happy to see him. there's a bit of digger for anyone (or anything...)

he'd be quick to take things to the next level with a partner he really loved. like he comes to pick you up one day in the boomer-van and he's like "tah-dah" and in the bacl there's a plastic storage box duct taped to the wall with your name written on it. this is how he would ask you to move in with him. you might need to get rid of a lot of your posessions but he wouldn't be adverse to you cleaning up the van or making it your own though!! i bet he'd love to have fairylights on the ceiling and some rugs on the floor

NSFW Headcanons

he has a piss kink. i know that is not a thing for most people, but i have evidence backing this up. it's barely a headcanon at this point, it's just straight up fuckin canonical fact lmao!! anyway i don't think it's a goes both ways thing most of the time. he likes to be the one pissing, it's where he refuses to be a switch and will only be the dominant one, usually

speaking of being the dominant one, it's what he's most comfortable with since he's a loud, brash, bold and heroic villainous boy, but he really doesn't mind switching things up. he can be a gentle dom, a bratty sub, and any combination in between. really, he is up for literally any activity or kink or fetish or position you can throw at him

he gets very vocal during sex. he spouts all kind of filth at you, confirming what he's doing, what he wants to do, and what he's going to do to you. his preferred terms are surprisingly gentle though, calling you kitten or pup, princess or prince, love, babe, baby. a combination of them all. aside from that, he is loud. volume is not something he can control when he's deep in the heat of the moment and he is the literal definition of animalistic. he growls while he fucks you, and he howls when he cums, and he has referred to himself as a dingo before...

of course, if you're getting particualrly nasty, or he's in a far more feral mood, he'll be growling low into your ear, calling you a dirty, nasty little cunt while he grabs your body and keeps you close

he's into any kink, sort of believing in trying anything once (or twice... or three times...) but there's a few he just LOVES. ones that if you mention them, you run the risk of having him cumming in his pants or rutting up against your leg like a desperate, badly behaved puppy

obviously, previously mentioned piss kink, but specifically if it involves some level of servitude or worship. like you on your knees holding his cock for him while he goes to the toilet, you offering to lick him clean, or letting him piss on you because you're so beneath him and he's yours to mark and claim. begging for a taste of him or pleading for him to use you gets him going too when you combine it with this

body worship or worship in general gets him going too. he's so desperate to be loved and wanted and adored and needed, so having someone beg for him, tell him they want him, they need his cock, his fingers, his hands, his saliva, his drool, his cum, anything he's willing to give them. top that off by calling him captain and he'll melt into a sticky little puddle

he's also way behind on comfort, so a little bit of gentle love mixed with kink is a great way to help him relax. feed him a tit or a hard cock, let him suck until he's soothed himself. hold him on your lap and stroke his hair while you tell him he's amazing, and so good at everything he does

cowboy digger is reporting for duty at the breeding ranch! get you some horns, a teeny tiny cowprint outfit, a tail and a bell and he'll either milk you dry until you're crying from overstimulation, or he'll ride you until he's pumped every last bit of cum into you, making sure you're ready for him to be the daddy

he'll fuck with the hat on. he's a socks on kinda guy too. he just gets way too into it way too quickly and forgets anything else but rutting and grunting

this could have been soft, if it wasn't george, but he loves when you fall asleep on him, like your head resting on his chest or his stomach or his lap or his shoulder. he'll be sweet, of course, and place a little kiss on the top of your head. but then he will try and sneak a look down your top or at your ass or to see if you have a visible bulge he can ogle

#captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #captain boomerang fanfic #finnie writes #captain boomerang headcanons #suicide squad: kill the justice league

[fbfh]

we all know leo is probs a switch. but how do u think he would he do with sub reader??

YO. rip all of us because SHAKING SQUAKING WRITHING MOANING.

Leo with a subby s/o is like an unexpected paradise for him. he literally is such a simp. he's such a munch that his brain short circuits around you. he would let you toss him around like a rag doll. but when he finally shoots his shot and makes a move on you, the moment he sees your eyes go all fuzzy and your brain melt when he touches your face with his big warm hands that smell like metal and firewood??? when he watches your eyes flutter shut and you let out this soft little sigh???? Leo goes fucking ballistic. he can't believe it. he cannot believe that the gorgeous breathtaking angel on earth he's been heartsick over is sighing because he touched your face. he needs a minute to recover from that. then he gets curious. he starts teasing you a little, he starts making eyes at you and watching you flush and get all nervous. he starts touching you casually, an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your waist or your thigh, he starts playing with the waistband of your shorts to see how you react. and every single time it's better than anything he could have possibly concocted in his brilliant little mind. when he kisses you he has to hold you so you don't fall over. tbh it just makes him want to kiss you more. anytime he tries to ask you why you get all dizzy and fuzzy when he kisses you or touches you, tries to work out why your brain melts for him the same way he tries to work out problems in his engineering designs. he tries to figure out the way your pretty mind works, what makes you tick, what it is that makes your cheeks flush and gets you flustered like you do. but every time he does, he's already been kissing you and touching you and paying so much rapt attention to you that you can't form a coherent thought, much less express one. that's when it clicks. that's when he realizes that he's the thing that makes you like this. when I tell you this realization makes him burst into flames it's not an exaggeration. he did not think he could get anymore into you, but here Leo finds himself, pinning you against walls and touching and kissing you all slow, teasing you with his hands and his quippy little comments muttered into your ear more into you than he's ever been. he can't keep his hands off you after that and you don't want him to. by now you know that he knows the power he has over you. and he's still so tender and emotionally intimate and soft and playful with you. and GOD does it drive you wild. he fucks you slow and soft, drawing out orgasm after orgasm from you, knowing just what to do, and he kisses you all over until you feel like you can't breathe. he's so warm, so attentive, and he cannot shut up. he talks you through every single one. every. single. one. he teases you and praises you and gets you so wound up for him, he bites your ear and sucks hickeys into your neck and encourages you to make those pretty noises for him, to drag your nails down his back and pull his hair. and it's bliss. there are no words. and yet, just like it always does with Leo, somehow things get better. after you're both so fucked out that he's been shooting blanks, when you finally collapse into each others arms, you cling to him so tight. you bury your face in his neck and wrap your arms around him. you wish you could crawl into his skin. you breathe in his scent, listen to his blood thrumming through his body and Leo realizes that no matter what you are not going to get tired of him. you actually just like him so much that it's never going to be enough to satisfy you. and he pulls you close in his buff arms and rubs your back and kisses your head. he plays with your hair or taps little morse code messages into your skin, he talks to you, he hums songs, singing pretty spanish lyrics under his breath. and he can tell just by looking at you that you've never felt more at peace. you feel safe with him. you want him. and he is never ever going to disappoint.

#drabbles #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez drabbles #leo valdez smut #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #heroes of olympus smut #heroes of olympus drabbles #sub!reader #dom!leo #AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHH #BACKFLIPS!!!!!!! IM DOING FUCKING BACKFLIPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #I! NEED! THIS! MAN! LIKE! I! NEED! AIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #AWWOGA AWOOGAAAAA #LEO THIRSTING HOURS ARE BACK BAYBEEEEEEEEEEEE #GOT MYSELF FLUSTERED WITH THIS ONE

[galavant-song-tournament]

Round 3

Propaganda for Gwynne:

I mean were it not for Chef chickening out, she would have fully succeeded in engineering a plan to kill absolutely every powerful person in the world of Galavant except for Galavant and Isabella and Sid who hadn't arrived yet but she later gets on just fine with.

My money’s on Gwynne. She’s got the brains and ruthlessness to carry out schemes while also being sincere enough to form alliances that won’t betray her, and being a servant means others will underestimate her until it’s too late

Gywnne already thinks she's in GOT tbh. Her poisoning plot is very red wedding. She failed because she's in Galavant.

Gwyn is smart enough to avoid situations that would put her in danger. She keeps allies at arms length and avoids enemies, can throw down if she needs to but knows to do that as a last resort, and most importantly: knows when to hit the fucking bricks.

Honestly I think Gwynne is crafty enough and she's in a low enough position people won't expect her (or suspect her). She's not royalty or a fighter

Not only would Gwynne survive GOT, she would win it. She DID win it when she nearly killed every significant character and threat to her, she only failed because Chef was in Galavant and not GOT. (But a reminder that she would then have killed Madalena, another of the people's top choices for winner here. I don't think she'd bother taking out Tad Cooper because he's nice but there's good reasons to assume he'd die in a GOT world.)

Propaganda for Tad Cooper:

In bearded dragon form no one would bother with him since he's nonthreatening. In dragon form he'd be a target but he's also a dragon and breathes fire so he'd certainly be able to fight back. It's established that Galavant has killed a dragon, so clearly there is an in-universe way to kill dragons but it's also told as a brag so it's got to be difficult at least.

tad cooper’s gonna win solely because he isn’t enough of an apparent threat for anyone to kill on GOT until he’s grown up

I think tad cooper’s gonna win solely because I SUPER BELIEVE IN YOU TAD COOPER!

Tad Cooper is a big target by nature of being a goddamn dragon. Everyone and their mother would be coming up with a strategy to take him out. What's worse, he's a loyal dragon--more specifically, he's loyal to Absolute Buffoon™ King Richard. By nature of Richard being a figure in power many would want deposed and his biggest piece of protection being a living WMD that Richard's enemies would be planning to take out first, I'm afraid Tad Cooper is toast.

We've got to remember that Tad Cooper isn't a dragon that no one is after, he's either a totally defenseless little creature that no one's after or he's a threatening dragon that everyone would be after. And even in his defenseless and unthreatening state, he's probably in the blast zone of any attacks on Richard since he's kept in Richard's coat, and let's be real, Richard would be being attacked so much.

He nearly did die in the finale of Galavant when Wormwood smacks him from Richard's hand, he just survives because it's Galavant not GOT.

#galavant #got tournament #polls

[creepy-friday]

KWHDOEJF AAAAH I SWEAR YOUR IDEAS ARE SO GOOD 😫✨️🤌👌

This just makes me think of how Y/N would have to not only be Assertive but also quick thinking.

Like she's only there to do her job and just blocks out everything else like Masky wants her to suck him off? Or walk around naked? Too bad, she has to fix the roof or the boss will punish them all. Hoodie wants to play mind-games? He'll have to wait because she has a list of groceries she needs to fulfill. Toby wants to be clingy? He can tag along as long as he's not getting in the way of her work.

The mental image of Y/N wacking Masky with a broom is just too good to pass up lmao.

I like to think that the Operator, despite being cruel, is also realistic and would give the Human Maid permission to defend herself if something comes in the way of her duties or she needs to. That would make things ten times funner than if she was just not allowed to do anything.

THANK YOU<3<3

Slenderman allows everything as long as it's not interfering with his business tbh. You can smack and be down bad with the others as long as you don't kill them

No one would have the guts to snitch you to the big boss if you harmed them,he would be pissed off to be disturbed with such childish behaviour from his residents

Masky would be fuming his nerves out.Your confident and smart moves only make him to further try to abuse his power,which he can't,because he can't get into the way of Operator's wishes

Clockwork would pass you in the hallways and would nod her head,a sign of respect that doesn't wear off

She would be a little shit to Masky and would brag about how he cannot get his dick wet this time

Your choices would make the residents respect you more instead of showing pity to your situation

This would make some want to test their limits with you,which would results into more frustration for them

Hoodie would treat you more as a colleague after seeing how you could see trough him.That would also result into friendly debates now that he found someone with as many brain cells as him

Toby is still happy to see you,especially now that he knows that you're almost untouchable

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta #headcanons #tim wright #y/n #tim wright x reader #brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian x reader #scenarios #creepypasta scenarios #maid reader #creepypasta imagines

[mesperyiandevotee]

🏴magictrioinitiate-deactivated

Reblog if your name isn't Alfred F Jones.

🃏thekinglovesplayingwithmyballs follow

WE'LL FIND YOU JONES

🐺a-squared-omegaverse follow

As if he couldn't just lie, if he even is on this hellsite.

🏴magictrioinitiate-deactivated

He wouldn't cuz heroes don't lie.

🏴notafjonesprommy-deactivated

A hero would lie to protect his secret identity ;)

🎻sayakamikideservedbetter follow

THIS IS THE POST! ON MY DASH! I FEEL LIKE I'M SEEING A CELEBRITY!!

🗿givemegumgumdumdum follow

NO NOTES???????????????

🦪clamoutjamout follow

so i got like really hella drunk last night and out of what must have been a mix of desperation and hubris, I sent an email to Mr. Romano, askiNG FOR AN INTERVIEW OVER ZOOM TO ASK QUESTIONS FOR RESEARCH FOR MY HISTORICAL EROTICA WIP AND HE SAID YES???????!!!!!!!!!!!!!

🍖hannibalservedmemyownballs follow

Doesn't he like never talk to historians and w/e? Holy shit what kind of magical persuasive powers did your drinks give you and can you send me some?

🦖little-arms-big-hugs follow

I wouldn't say *never*. He's given interviews before, he just has a really low tolerance for disrespect compared to his brother. But with his temper I wouldn't be surprised if his gov asked him to not accept as many interviews anymore.

🍖hannibalservedmemyownballs follow

True, true. I still want to borrow some of OP's persuasion magical drinks.

🦪clamoutjamout follow

my mom sent me a bottle of that liquor mr Latvia made and i didnt look at the proof before drinking like half the bottle (mixed with pop).

also... I finally pulled up my big girl panties and read what I wrote to mr. romano...............

... im going to kms.

🦖little-arms-big-hugs follow

Forget persuasion powers, I want whatever healing magic you have that drinking half of MR. LATVIA'S balsam didn't kill you!

🦪clamoutjamout follow

#we're almost there folx! #RIP OP #nation person mention #alcohol mention

9,879 Notes

🌄cabininthewoodscore follow

UM. HELLO????

🤠redbreadrebellion follow

Yeah, Ch*rchill pushed hard for those two to get together, it's no secret. What about it? It doesn't mean they actually got together turn off your shipping brain.

🏴tw1stedm1nd-deactivated

Sure and America definitely didn't talk about it in an interview

🌄cabininthewoodscore follow

😭😭😭😭😭 The link just goes to a 404 page NNNNOOOOOOOO WHYYYYYYY

#usuk ship real is the only conspiracy theory i'll believe

132 Notes

🐸enby-froggy follow

did anyone else see h/bomber/guy's new video??? PLEASE someone put that man in witness protection or something before K*rkland gets him

🍝spaghetti-breaker follow

wasn't he originally supposed to talk about that one bbc pirate show?

🐸enby-froggy follow

spaghetti-breaker He was but he ended up going off-track after he found some reddit post that led him down a rabbit hole of research. tl;dr: K*irkland yo-hoe-hoeing isn't just a meme

🦐butisbugsshrimp follow

I'm more worried about dickland's teaboo white knights getting him tbh

🍯kidsishrunkthehoney follow

Lmao looks like he saw it!

#wait a min i gotta search something #THE VIDEO IS ALMOST 3 HOURS WTF #now i gotta watch

983 Notes

🪃callmyanxietyboomerang follow

dylan's collab with mr canada was just them trying to out-do each other with all the gay jokes sjflsfjsifhsifjsij someone make one of those 10 hour videos with just the cuts of that please? 🙏🏼

🪃callmyanxietyboomerang follow

SOMEONE DID FUCK YEAH!!!

#canada nation person #vintage baker man #someone send me the video i refuse to download tiktok

97 Notes

🎲dev1ld1c3 follow

If we try hard enough, do you guys think we can convince Mr. Denmark to do a girl month donation goal?

🛸area51searchandrescue follow

Tbh I'm surprised he doesn't have a subscription goal like that already

🔦berwaldsfleshlight follow

There's a rumour he's trying to convince Jones and Beilschmidt to do it with him first before he makes the goal official

#pretty sure those two dont need convincing

73 Notes

#hetalia #i made this instead of writing #if i make edits like this or the fake tweets assume i'm procrastinating updating my fics #i already forgot what i put for the links #no rickrolls this time #fake tumblr dash #dashboard simulator

[proudahgase-exol]

Sex and after sex with exo

Ot9

I'm adding Jongdae because I want to 😁

This is 18+ if your a minor please skip 😊 🔞

Tbh I don't know what I was thinking when I made this all I know I had this idea at 3:40 am 😁 I hope you like this mess 😅

Xiumin:

He will like to have sex on the bed, and he also would like to do any position but his favorite might be doggy he seems to be that kind of man. He also might like to have sex in the couch if he feels like it.

After sex: he will clean you both up with a warm towel but if you had multiple rounds he will give you a bath and make sure your comfy in some soft clothes will cuddle well making a small conversation as you fall asleep on his chest.

Suho:

He would most likely have sex on the bed or couch on the bed he will have full power but on the couch, you take control he likes it when your ride him he will have a glass of wine in one hand well the other one is on your ass. He's sometimes supper soft and sweet but when he's stressed he will take it out on you by being rough. He likes to choke you and make you beg.

After sex: He’s a big aftercare guy who will make sure you all clean up and comfortable on the bed if he was rough he will be super gentle and kiss the bruises he left will give you a glass of water and cuddle you well he plays with your hair.

Lay:

He would also like to have sex on the couch or bed, he will most likely ask you to take control because he likes it when you dominate him, he also might like to have sex in his studio when he’s not too busy or when he super horny.

After sex: he will be super soft and sweet he will ask you to keep him inside for a bit but then he will get up and clean you up then he will cuddle you to sleep.

Baekhyun:

He’s a freak so anywhere we’re he can have you bend over it will be more than okay. he loves to slap your ass and leave marks. kitchen, bathroom, bedroom couch, stairs, bed anywhere he thinks it’s good to fuck he will and he also might record it for when he’s away and he misses you.

After sex: he will be super lazy to get up and clean you both up so you will have to do it yourself so when you try to stand up you will complain about how sore you are so he will get up and clean you both up but he will be teasing the shit out of you for that.

Jongdae:

He seems to like sex anywhere too but for some reason I see him having sex on the bedroom only he will catch you off guard sometimes it’s vanilla and sometimes is rough it all depends on his mood. When he wants vanilla he will go all out some nice home cook dinner and a movie then go from there, but when he wants it rough it shows just prepare yourself for a long night.

After sex: he will be super sweet clean you up well kiss the bruises and tells you that you were so good to him will make sure you're all comfortable before he gets next to you and cuddles you he might sing you to sleep (he have such a beautiful voice I love him)

Chanyeol:

At his studio….. he would love to record you guys having sex he loves the noise you make. He might also like car sex when he’s super horny he might love it when he’s driving and you're giving him a blowjob he likes to have passionate sex but when he’s angry or stressed he will fuck your brains out and make you beg him to stop but we both know we won't till he tired.

After sex: if you had sex in the studio he will clean you up and help you get dressed then he will make his studio couch, comfy for you he will pull some blankets and pillows out so you can take a nap well he finish working. But when you're at home he will refuse to get you clean up if he was gonna screw you again in a few hours. 

Kyungsoo:

Shower sex or bedroom when he feels super romantic he will have sex on the bed but if he’s in the shower with you he will get had and just push you against the wall and fuck your right then and there he also will be into choking it turns him on.

After sex: he will ask you multiple times if you are okay or if he hurt you then he will get you clean up and cuddle you as you watch a movie or have a conversation he will rub your back softly till you both fall asleep

Kai:

For sure dance practice sex when you go and visit him he will ask you to join him and that will escalate into something more. It will be floor sex our mirror sex it all depends you also will get either Kai or Jongin one is rough and the other one is soft but both will mess you up and leave you sore.

After sex: if it was at the studio he will get you both dressed without getting cleaned up then will rush to get home to take a bath if you are lucky you might end up having bath sex but if not he will get you to bed and cuddle and will give you little kisses here and there

Sehun:

This mother fuckerlooks like he will enjoy car sex he likes the risk, and he will also like window sex he’s all about the risk of getting caught. He might also like to have sex on the living room or kitchen of the dorms. He seems to have strong stamina so a lot of sex with him he also will like it when you seat on his face he loves it.

After sex: you will take turns cleaning each other up and after he will take you to eat. If he sees you walk funny he will make fun of you and tease you then he will carry you around because he will feel bad but still proud.

#xiumin #lay yixing #junmyeon #baekyhun #chanyeol #jongdae #kyungsoo #jongin #sehun #exo fanfic #exo scenario #exo smut #exo x reader #exo x y/n #exo imagines #exo imagine #exo #sehun x reader #kai x reader #suho x reader #xiumin x reader #jongdae x reader #chanyeol x reader #baekhyun x reader #yixing x reader #kyungsoo x reader

[masterofengene]

heyy , could you do &team reactions to their s/o having trouble with sleeping ? thanks a lot

&team with an s/o who has trouble sleeping.

Warnings: none

K.

Okay so he gives off the vibe that he has trouble sleeping as well, maybe occasionally.

He is gonna be a sweetheart about it.

He knows you need sleep and he knows it's what is good for your body so he is gonna try every way he knows how to get you to sleep.

Essential oils. Massages. Soft music playing throught the room.

He makes it his mission to get you to fall asleep.

"I know you can't sleep...but you have that big assignment tomorrow and you need the rest...."

Plays with your har until you fall asleep (unless he falls asleep first, his methods are very affective.

He doesn't want you to take melatonin, instead he wants to find a natural way for you to sleep.

Fuma

He may be the most fit one in &team. But TRUST he turns into your own personal pillow.

In his mind, cuddles are the solution to any problem (he's right)

He's gonna put on your favorite show with the volume down low, turn the lights out.

Then cuddle.

He's gonna spoon you so he can feel when your breathing evns out, or have you lay on his chest.

He says it's because he wants to make sure you fall asleep but really it helps him fall asleep more than you.

Hums tunes in your ears until you relax and rubs your back

Nicholas

Honestly, I feel like he has a hard time sleeping as well.

So really the nights you spend together, you guys might not even sleep.

Because you both know that your brains won't slow down enough for you to sleep so you both just...don't sleep

Instead you guys stay up just talking about your day and just playing around until the exhaustion finally wears on you two

If you guys have something important the next day. Pillow fight.

Pillow fights exhaust both of you so quickly. You could just wage war on each other for 15 minutes then boom.

Sleeping babies.

Ej

Okay so deep breath.

I feel like he would take a logical approach and do things that he knows bores you, or that you don't find entertaining.

Puts on a nature documentary.

"What? It's educational!"

He isnt even into it, but he knows you'll be so bored you'll fall asleep

Evil genius.

Certified evil genius

Lights a candle that he knows you like.

Random background noises.

Whale noises (clearly those don't work)

Eventually you fall asleep while he is reading the encyclopedia to you

Yuma

He's gonna have you drinking herbal tea that has no caffeine.

He won't do much else to help you sleep, just pull you in for snuggles and sing for you tbh.

He's gonna make sure that everything around you is calm and serene. If maki tries to come in and disturb your slumber he's throwing the nearest object at him.

Be prepared to be the little spoon. He's gonna cuddle you for days.

If he notices you tired one day, he is gonna try and get you to take a nap. Even if it's just a 15 minute power nap.

He knows how important sleep is.

Frowns when he sees you chugging an energy drink.

Jo

To be honest. I get the vibes that he doesn't sleep that well.

I feel like he's the type that stays up all night to play video games or watch anime.

You both don't realize how bad your sleep schedules are until you two stayed up until 6 in the morning and fuma walked in looking like he was ready to strangle you both for staying up all night.

From then on you two try not to stay the night with each other, because your bad sleep feeds off each other.

You two can only spend the night together once a week for the sake of your eye bags.

Gucci eye bags

Designer eye bags

Harua

He's not going to nag you into getting sleep.

He reminds you about once a week that you need to try and get a better sleep schedule going.

When he notices that you're staying up way too late, he's going to start texting you every night that it's bed time.

He's trying okay. But he doesn't want to see annoying or bother you.

If he notices that you're struggling to stay awake, he will try to get you to a place where you can relax as soon as he can.

"Please start trying to slep better...always being awake isnt a good thing."

Taki

To be honest I feel like he has just as bad a sleep schedule as you do.

Like it's just because he started training to be an idol so young so he just couldn't help it.

He was used to late nights anyway so he always had trouble falling asleep.

So when he met you you're two sleep schedules sort of fed into each other.

It was like an understood "my body won't let me fall asleep"

So you two just filled your nights with telling each other stories either over the phone or in person.

You two would just talk about your day until you finally fell asleep.

Maki

Okay. He straight up doesn't care. At all.

He knows you and he knows how to help.

If you say "I can't sleep." He won't listen because yes you can.

He knows his voice is calming to you. You told him so. So when he notices you're restless he comes to cuddle.

He does it so Inconspicuously that you don't even notice his master plan.

Lulling you to sleep with good cuddles and whatever rambled comes to mind. Sometimes he serenaded you in German (even if you have no idea what he said)

He just talks. He let's everything come out at once.

#&team #&team fluff #&team imagines #&team jo #&team maki #&team scenarios #&team taki #&team nicholas #yuma &team #&team fuma #ej &team

[nyxnephilim]

Time for a bit of FFXIV speculation :

I realize that a bulk of FFXIV players have already completed the whole of the story arc ( probably more than one time ) so please don't hold it against this 🌱 while I think-out-loud about my feelings towards the story so far even if I'm still experiencing ARR.

( also pls no spoilers, but I appreciate encouragement and assurance my questions will get answered. Lol )

Somethings have been picking at my brain since I encountered them. One of which is when the Amal'Jaa are surprised we do not fall to tempering stating our "soul must belong to another" and then Ifrit himself says that while he can see we do not already serve a primal that the paragons warned the Primals about the godless-blessed one's aborrent existence. Does that mean that while we may or may not be tempered by a primal we are controlled/ guided by some 'other' thing outside the paragons or the 12. If we are being Guided/controlled by what we don't quite understand but is big enough or strong enough for the paragons & primals to worry about —- should we be worried about its overall motive & can it truly be benevolent and omniscient with that much power? Does it seek to follow through with its own agenda regardless of the plight of others.

The reason I say this is because of another encounter that seems to stick in my mind. A point in which Y'stola chastises Merlwyb for breaking the treaty with the Kolbolds. She basically says and has a solid point (that I had already thought of before this scene) when she tells Merlwyb that this constant war with the Kobolds was of her own doing in letting Lominsans break the treaty. The kolbolds are just defending themselves. Or course there is an a back and forth that ensues but the point being both Merlwyb and the Kobolds are doing what they believe to be right for justice sake and for the sake & safety of their people.

I extrapolated this further. What makes us, the scions, so sure that what WE are doing is right? Because a giant crystal says so? We kill gods/primals and move against another society that perhaps (outside of their military) could possibly be wanting freedom and peace like those of Eorzea do. What of the Garlemald society? They can't be all military. Its not hard to believe that there are some suffering at our hands because of what their military decided to do, not them. I guess essentially what I'm saying is, how are we so certain we are not falsely lead to believe what we do is just and right when what we do is kill gods/primals, murder tribes on sight because of who they are and pushing our agenda on them. There is point where there is a kobold says that those of their community at war with us do not represent the whole of their society. … and I hear that the crafting questline with the different tribes show us that not all of the their race want to fight. So is it hard to reason that perhaps not all Ishgardians hate dragons? That not all dragons hate the elezen. That not all Garleans follow their military and that perhaps what we perceive as right may only be a perspective of one cosmologic being with enough power to have us believe in what they want?

on top of the fact that the Ascians say ' if we knew more, that we wouldn't be fighting with them.... that we would basically understand’ ... leaves me feeling 🤯

What the hell is going on? I know mother crystal is our main guide... but tbh I'm feeling pretty sus about things and honestly the motives of Hydaelyn. I realize they are presenting her as a mothering ‘goddess’ but I’ve always been the type of kid to ask “why”

The answer of ‘just because’ … ‘because I said so’….. ‘because this is how it’s always been done’ ….. ‘because I’m the boss’…..

Has NEVER sat well with me. As a kid or now. With my parents, with teachers, with management or upper level bosses. I need to know the why, the motives, the implications or consequences, the benefits. I need this information because the end does not always justify the means. Especially if on a core level I disagree with it and feel there is an alternate route.

That probably says more about me then I intended but yeah… lol

... anyhow.... thank you for letting me just babble on about the beginning of this ( I'm sure to be ) wild ride we all know and love called FFXIV.

:::: Newbie rant over ::::

#ffxiv #🌱sprout #a realm reborn #ff14 ffxiv #newgamer #lore speculation #ARR #New to FFXIV #🌱 #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #first time FFXIV #ffxiv new player #new to gaming #new to MMOs

[apostleofgreed]

It's here, the finale - my friends thoughts throughout Nona the Ninth (it's a long one)

Right which one of these idiots is stuck in Nona's body

Signs point to both

I think more likely Harrow and shes just removed the massive stick up her ass

Most other signs thus far do point to Gideon though- lack of aforementioned stick, finds herself attractive, loves ass jokes, wants to pet dogs (Harrow seems like a don't work with animals or children type)

Also these other kids have names like they're gonna be running in the fucking grand national

Honestly what the fuck is going on with child conception in this series???

Someone has five dads, God was asking if Harrow and Ianthe were being 'safe' sexually and I'm just confused

Okay so I've only listened to half an hour today but if Crown isn't coronabeth I will eat my own arm

My theory is that neither of them are in Harrow's body and that she's being possessed by The Body

Maybe I should follow in Harrow's footsteps and ask you to fucking lobotomize me

No beta we die like Babs

"what do you think is sexy?" "Eating breakfast" Me too, Camilla, me too

Maybe someone needs to lobotomize Judith, has anyone thought of that?

Thing is I feel like I'm supposed to think John is really bad and is the villain here but I just don't

The worst thing he's done is lie to his friends for a few thousand years

Finally, the baddest bitch in all the nine houses (it's Ianthe)

What a power move honestly first she steals Babs' soul now she steals his body, absolutely inspired

She could literally kill another 200 babies to resurrect Harrow and I'd be like what a babe 😍 at this point

I'm bored of shooting can we go back to swords and doing weird things with your body please

I just think it would be great if Harrow could hop back into her body and have a full meltdown about how to function in this world

Erm Corona darling can you please try to stop them bombing your sister in the body of one of your lifelong pals pls and thanks

Y'all better sTOp

Fucking marry, kill, reanimate I can't hahahaha

"that's not actually crown's boyfriend Nona, it's her sister but I don't think anyone could blame you for getting confused" Fair hahahahah so very true

Don't know how they think this is gonna work seeing as though Harrow and Ianthe literally lived together for like over a year and had an interpersonal relationship but ok

Maybe it's because pash has the accent of a rudeboy from Oldham and suffer is weirdly French (on disliking We Suffer and Pash)

Palamades in Ianthe in Babs is sending me west

Abigail died too soon and really she did all the legwork in Harrow

Can't help but feel all of this drama could have been avoided if Harry had just done the job properly in the first place and just let Gideon die properly

All of this just because an 18 year old gave herself the brain scramblies

Cam has just burst into fire wtf

Can't believe Crux hasn't dropped dead tbh

I've got less than an hour left I feel like we're cutting it fine to get Harry back in her body here

Big flex to be waiting for everyone to arrive smoking a ciggie with your golden skeleton arm

Fucking friendship bracelets and a secret handshake hahahahah

Gideon needs to stop being such a bloody himbo

Who has shouted "get in line thou big slut!" Hahahahah

There we have it, the full series. Hope y'all have enjoyed this.

#the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #Nona #ianthe tridentarius #coronabeth tridentarius #harrowhark nonagesimus

[see-arcane]

I don't think Mina is now but a mindless plaything being led to the castle by the guy who very much does *not* want her to reach him tbh. My read is that it is her Dracula-induced senses that help her know where to go in reaching her destination, his lair, the closer they get to it. Senses she has harnessed, because she's confident instead of freaked out about it. Of course, Jonathan has written about the sharp turn on that road too, so she explains it away that way, as telling Van Helsing "don't freak out but I can do that now" would have made him think she's now pretty much turned.

Honestly, this whole scene and the premise of the coming scenes in which [SPOILERS] we meet up with the Weird Sisters is a very mixed bag ability and intention-wise. The way I break it down is:

-Mina already had something like intuitive/psychic ability prior to Dracula chomping on her. She has little blips of more than ordinary Awareness throughout the novel--and one juicy line is yet to come regarding her awareness of Jonathan 👀--that don't really tie into the Count's whole shtick. Whatever was already there might have gotten spurred into greater action by the vampirism like waking up an underused muscle, but...

-...despite Dracula's consciousness/voice being present in hers with the hypnotic trance, I doubt he really needed to be the one to have Mina point out the path with 'stolen knowledge.' Jonathan did write about the way up to the Castle! But then he also wrote about how Dracula kept driving him in circles to waste time and disorient him. All of which was happening in the dark. Maybe she gleaned enough from that entry, maybe not. But I suspect she'd have put the route together regardless and her current creepiness was what threw Van Helsing off.

-That said, I think where a lot of folks are putting their foot down as far as 'this is removing her agency/power!' or 'Dracula wouldn't want her to know how to get up there, it's a secret stealth-girlboss move!' etc etc is that it kind of overlooks a few important points.

One, Re: Dracula almost certainly threw in Dracula's consciousness being present for the "My Jonathan" line alone. It adds more horror to the scene, an extra gut punch, and provides a way to sneak in a few more lines for Karim Kronfli. It made my skin crawl to think about that smug fucker making use of the temporary trance-connection to spit that unctuous claim out. Which is the point! It makes you want to punch the bastard's fangs in even more!

Two, it's not him robbing her of anything (much as he'd like to somehow take even more from her). Their minds are mingled soup whenever the hypnosis happens. That's how she's been able to get anything out of the Count's mind in the first place. Nothing has changed in the status quo apart from the fact that she's been growing harder to get any info from.

Three, I would bet good money Dracula would genuinely be super eager to see Van Helsing and Mina mosey on up to the territory where his three weed-smoking baby-eating girlfriends are lurking around. Not just because he's still a cocky fucker when it comes to his/his thralls' power, but because here, now, he has every reason to be that cocky.

Van Helsing has never killed a vampire at this point. Arthur and Jack took the Bloofer Lady apart. The guys are all closing in on Dracula with their numbers and strength and weapons.

But him? An openly terrified old man, traveling up into the mountains that are Dracula's admitted place of power, perhaps even a genius loci, with a companion who is quickly turning into his murderer-in-potentia, specifically to confront Three Whole Vampires to hopefully catch them unawares in their coffins if he doesn't get torn to shreds or eaten first? Even having read the book, I would still hesitate to bet on the professor. If I were Dracula, I'd be brain-texting the Weird Sisters to roll out a red carpet and paint arrows on the mountains.

THIS WAY TO YOUR BIG HEROIC SCENE, OLD MAN!

NEVER MIND THE UNMARKED GRAVES OF CENTURIES' WORTH OF TRANSYLVANIAN LOCALS WHO TRIED TO BE A HERO BEFORE YOU!

WE HAVE UTMOST CONFIDENCE THAT YOU!--YOU ALONE!--WILL DEFINITELY BE THE EXCEPTION!

PLEASE WASH YOUR NECK BEFORE PROCEEDING BEYOND THIS POINT!

In short, it would make sense that Dracula wants to let Van Helsing know the route to Exsanguination Station. He has zero reason to expect that events will align in any way that's not in his favor on his own territory with his bloodthirsty thralls on alert. Perish the thought!

(If you listen close, you can almost hear Bram Stoker rubbing his hands together and snickering behind the fourth wall.)

#anyway #had a lot to say I guess whoops #sorry Anon #mina harker #abraham van helsing #dracula #brides of dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

[jay-wasreblogging]

No idea what the ettiquette is for things like this but I adore your brain esp with Sherlock and Mycroft. pLEASE share any of your thoughts/hopes/expectations for s&c Mycroft (and his + Sherlock’s dynamic) 🙏

I swearrrr all of yous in the Sh&Co fandom are so sweet!! 🥹

As for my thoughts/hopes/expectations, It usually comes up randomly in my head but I would say...

Thoughts:

Mycroft hasn't been mentioned (except by the writer's that there isn't a voice actor for him yet) and this fits in with the surprise John and the audience will get when he is introduced. I'm excited for that but tbh I don't have any other thoughts, when he does appear DW I'll tag you in my post of thoughts :))

My hopes/expectations is that:

Mycroft is not slim. LISTENNNN LISTENNNN OKAYY, often hes portrayed as slim due to medical/mental issues which I still love btw (the approach to his character with these are some of the most powerful fics I have ever read) I just want a Mycroft that is a big boy and I hope he is.

Mycroft doesn't worry about Sherlock that often due to seeing him online with John now, he also follows the podcast, twitter account and is definitely on their patreon. That's why we haven't heard of him so far because there's no need for him to contact Sherlock. He's going to make a comment about the podcast and the detective career when he's introduced though.

Lestrade and Mycroft actually keep in touch quite often- not just due to Sherlock but cause of Lestrade being the DI and Mycroft being the government would mean they would cross paths more often than not. Especially true in hostage negotiations and/or terrorists attacks!! Lestrade would have to be present as it's all hands on deck and Mycroft may just be needed for 'cleanup' afterwards. They both could be introduced at the same time or within episode of each other. If not, they will know each other soon!!

Mycroft and Sherlock will do their iconic back and forth deduction but with both Mariana and John present. 👀

Mycroft doesn't drink alcohol nor consumes anything that wasn't made then tested - can't risk being intoxicated or poisoned when he could be called up at any moment, there's no time for resting. He does throw caution to the wind when he eats at Sherlock's though, hoping for a scene where they are having dinner together.

John will have direct contact with Mycroft just like Lestrade after they meet, this allows Mycroft to be a reoccurring character (FINGERS CROSSED MY GUYS!).

Mycroft is going to have a one on one conversation with John off the record about the case of The Greek Interpreter and John will definitely record it and then later plans to delete/censor it but Sherlock says not to and just publish it raw because why not. It be funny lol.

Further head-canons (some are also hoped or expected) because now I'm lost in the sauce and can't stop:

Mycroft has never worried about himself too much outside of work reasons, he was too busy taking care of Sherlock + the estate and handling incompetent politicians and global political leaders to ever care.

Sherlock was and is a danger to everything alive or objects - including himself!! This especially when he was a child doing any sort of experiment because often touch and tasting is the first thing done, so Mycroft aged like 20 years when Sherlock was a child in his 'i must grab and put this foreign thing in my mouth' phase. One time he wanted to touch and taste the insides of his bee plushie - it was just cotton tho (and a heart attack for Mycroft).

He is the reason Sherlock has expensive tastes and was unable to lean him off it due to having the exact palette as well. He's the reason Sherlock is spoiled about his groceries but don't say that to Mycroft because he did his best...not really but he likes his branded sweets okay.

Mycroft (as he is a big boy) needed suits that were custom made for him and up to his impeccable standards so he got them commissioned and had the designer he found to also create sensory friendly clothing for Sherlock. 🥹

Mycroft likes John Watson and Mariana a lot, they both love his brother and that's the only thing he could ask for.

Mycroft is a tank!! He is more than capable of neutralising someone if needed - whether hand to hand or by weapon/s - but just like how he isn't a detective, he isn't his own bodyguard nor hitman because he's lazy and that's why you have employees.

Mycroft thought that Sherlock and John are more than friends but gets even more confused when Mariana is there? Then decides it's none of his business really, he needs to focus on easing tensions between the King and the Prime Minister.

Mycroft and Sherlock not only had deduce-offs but also regularly fought one on one hand to hand combat for fun. Mycroft was scared asf tho when Sherlock started to have intense interests in swords, no thank you.

Mycroft unlike his behaviour at work being that of an ice man whose looks could kill, is awkward and shy when it comes to Sherlock. There's not much to talk about when you're siblings whose work requires the utmost confidentiality, can easily deduce what the other did and with one's work famously being published and the other's influence clear in every political news!!

Now that's all I have, I'm sure my brain will come up with some more stuff later on and i'll be sure to tag you in them from now on!!

#this is the second ask thats complimenting and it got me giggling n kicking my feet and shi 😩😚 #love the kindness in this community - you guys are awesome seriously #sherlock & co #sherlock and co #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #goalhanger podcasts #mycroft holmes #gregory lestrade #mariana ametxazurra #P.S. the only etiquette is I guess a please or thanks...? idk tbh cause I'm pretty new to Tumblr myself but I've seen some ppl use anon #asks to attack 😬 that's why I have it off so I can report and/or block

[lookismaddict]

Lookism Chapter 440 Memes/Thoughts I Have:

(SPOILERS !!! I don’t own any of the Lookism panels and the translations. Only the memes that I made.)

Wooooo weeeeee, another chapter this week! LET'S GOOOOOOOO!!! Also, I'm so sorry for worrying y'all for my absence these past few days but after this review is posted, Imma disappear again. 😭 At this point, my chapter reviews might not be posted on time and will be late to post frequently now. Also, don't mind me changing the color of the title every 10 chapters... *Ahem* Anyways-

RIGHT OFF THE BAT, THESE HOTTIES:

Ughhh... God, the fan service here. Thanks PTJ, you the man. 😩✋🏽 Also, the way Jibeom just acted like nothing happened by saying, "SORRY!" UH HA HA HA HA HA HA... 🧍🏽‍♀️💢 Nah, we allies now. Gotta forgive, right? And Jihan too... 🧍🏽‍♀️💢💢 Man, y'all just got your asses beat for no reason. This reminds me of those anime with the MC's fighting the enemies, and then they end up becoming allies with the "power of friendship". Behold, the power of friendship everyone.

Ok, but Imma be honest. Every time I see Hudson now, I squeal like a fangirl at a BTS concert. And suddenly seeing him... NAKED? RIGHT OFF THE BAT? My loyalty for Gun is REALLY being tested. Wtf man. Also, the snakes though? That's wild. 😭

Yeah, that panel really wrecked me. Physically and emotionally.

Oh, of course. Also, debt? Huh? 🤔

Yeah man, we need to know!!! WE'VE BEEN DYING TO KNOWWWWWWWW. Whenever I hear "Young Master", it reminds me of a butler saying that. As if Daniel is being treated by a butler. 💀

YESSSSSS FINALLY DANIEL GOT A LEAD TO JINYOUNG!!! 💪🏽

"At least eat before you go." That's so nice of them. Also, "At this rate he'll live here." KSSLDJLFSDHFSLFHDSFH JIHAN PLSSSSS- 💀💀💀💀💀

Oh? Daniel coming up with a big brain plan...? 👀

LET'S GOOOOOOOO DANIEL!! BIG BRAIN MOVE!!! 🤭

Daniel being acknowledged by, not only the man who ended the era of the First Generation, but also, the STRONGEST FIRST GENERATION KING???? Oh god, I love his growth and character development so much. He'll always have my heart forever. 💖 ALSO, THIS WHOLESOME MOMENT WITH JICHANG??? THIS IS TOO CUTE. MY HEART- 😩💗 I WAS SOBBING AT THIS BECAUSE THIS WAS TOO CUTE TO WITNESS. LIKE, LOOK AT HIM PETTING DANIEL'S HEAD, LOOKING LIKE A PROUD UNCLE.

Literally, one of the cutest things I've ever seen in a long time in Lookism.

YUUUSSSSSS, JICHANG IS GONNA HELP HIM EVENTUALLY. 😭😭👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽 I hope they actually do make it to the First Affiliate though. But, if the Elder knew where he was, then does that mean that he knows that Jinyoung is not in his right mind? And does he know that he has people held captive in his little basement? 👀 *coughs* Daniel *coughs* Johan *coughs* Samuel... Sorry guys, I might be getting a cold. Idk what's going on with me.

Ohhhhhh shiiiii... Pls tell me we gonna see Jake here...

AHHHHHHHH I KNEW IT, JAKE!!! BABY BOY IS BACK!!!! 😭💙 Oh shit, I wOnDeR who THAT could be...

Tbh I'm not surprised that he said it was James Lee lol. It has been emphasized by Eugene before when he said in Ch. 432, that he was aware of the murder case that caught the attention of a lot of people. And he also mentioned how Charles Choi had been using blackmail on James Lee to control him in exchange of covering James's part of the murder. Also, earlier in that chapter, I was wondering why Charles would even bother to help in covering up a murder for James if that person that James murdered wasn't so important in the first place. If it was just a "nobody", then he would've just thrown that person somewhere, buried him, or burnt his body and converted it into ashes. Clearly, it all makes sense now. (Also, the red picture gave it away. lmao) AND JAKE, WITH THE TYPICAL "death stare" EXPRESSION WHEN HE FOUND OUT WHO THE MURDERER FOR HIS FATHER'S DEATH WAS??? Is he going to get revenge or something? 😭

But oh boy, James is really gonna get it eventually. Both him and Charles Choi. Actually, DEFINITELY Charles Choi. The guy is literally walking scum in the first place.

You see, Charles Choi is a clown... 😀 *end of argument*

I hope he does. Because if Charles Choi intercepts their operation, I'm going to sue. 😡

Ughhhh, bro... Don't make me cry again, please. 💀💀💀💀

Oh great, speak of the Devil. 👿 FUCK OFF CHARLES, AND STOP RUNNING AWAY FROM YOUR CRIMES, YOU ASSHOLE! 😤

NOOOOOOOOOO FUCK YOUUUUU CHARLES!!! GET AWAY FROM THE ELDER!!!! AGGHHHHHDSFHSDFHASDJDSHFLSD JICHANG!!!! BEAT HIS ASS!!!! TAKE HIS LIMBS OFF!!!! 😤😤😤😤😤

IT'S NOW OR NEVER, MF. I WANT THIS MAN TO SUFFER.

Wait, an "unknown car"? He MUST have a driver with him. Please tell me that his driver is none other than Gun/Goo... Ik this is wishful thinking, but I want to see them again. 😳

YEEEEEEESSSSSS JICHANG, SLAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYY. SLAY KING, SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. 😩👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽 HERE'S YOUR CROWN, KING OF CHUNGCHEONG'S KING OF SEOUL'S WHITE SNAKE!! 👑

By choking...? 💀 I mean, I've seen a big ass snake devour a huge animal before, so it's possible Charles. Don't doubt Jichang's abilities, because you might be surprised at how he could MURDER YOU ON SIGHT. 😡😡😡 (And oh god, looking at Elite's face still reminds me of my professor. 😭 *sobbing* But also, with a twist of Manager Kim too.)

I just want his ass to be wiped off the face of the Earth. Both him, and Eugene. But, wait... If Eugene and James Lee are conspiring AGAINST Charles Choi, and everyone else are conspiring against Charles Choi too, then... WHY CAN'T EVERYONE JUST UNITE AND BEAT CHARLES??? They all have a similar goal, yet they decided to do things their own way? Well, I get that they have ulterior motives/goals for them to take down Charles Choi, but at least make it easier for yourselves instead of just handling the crap on your own, right? Fight later, unite now. 🧍🏽‍♀️

Man, idk anymore. Just do whatever tf you guys want at this point. 😭

#lookism #lookismaddict #lookism 440 #lookism spoilers #lookism spoiler #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism memes #lookism meme #kwak jibeom #hudson ahn #ahn hyunseong #kwak jihan #jay hong #hong jaeyeol #daniel park #park hyungseok #noh bakgu #kwak jichang #choi beongae #jake kim #kim gimyeong #charles choi #choi dong soo

[cheesybadgers]

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

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

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 12,675

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 23: Desde La Frontera

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shouldn’t be so irresistible.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

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

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

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

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

“And the family?”

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

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

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

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

“You did everything you could to help them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure about that?”

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

“Well, I still have my moments.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She is.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Simple?” Chucho supplied.

“Yes. Simple.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Happy Birthday.”

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

“I can take it back if you’d prefer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like it?”

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

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

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

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

“Good, that’s it, and another.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you on all fours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, are you gonna tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

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

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Does it matter?”

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

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Very funny."

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

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

“You liked it, then?”

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

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

"That wouldn't be hard."

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

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

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

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

“Keep it on.”

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

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

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

“I’ll try my best.”

He could make no such guarantees after dinner, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you mean?”

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

“Yeah, I remember.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For what?”

“For reminding me of my roots.”

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

“Better late than never, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not bad for a Colombian.”

“I guess I had a good teacher.”

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

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

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

“I’ll drink to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For what?”

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

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

“Y tú eres mía.” (And you’re mine)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

“Oh really? Hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe. But it does suit you.”

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

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

“Likewise with your present.”

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

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

“You’re the fucking cowboy, not me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When’s that again?”

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

“You still shadowing Gus Montoya?”

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

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

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

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

“It keeps me out of trouble.”

“Shame.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What isn’t?”

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

“We’ve always been careful.”

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

“Exactly. Completely different.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was.”

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

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Your present.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

[thepetesimp]

Fic Ask Game: Favorite Fic Lines

Hello people. So, I got some sudden inspiration for this little game, which goes hand in hand with the KinnPorsche Fanfic Comment Event a little bit, in my opinion: Share the lines of fics that have brought a big emotional reaction out of you. It can be anything, from sadness to happiness to horniness to anything in between. Lines that have stayed with you, no matter how long ago you read the fic. I believe our writers deserve a little praise in these trying times, don't you think? So, for me, some of them are the following: 1) "The rib hurts so much more now that someone else knows about it." - drank every scar, by @ginnymoonbeam - Tbh, I'd have to put the whole fic in here, but this is the line I tend to think of whenever the fic comes to mind. Rereading it now to find the line made my eyes water, it's so fucking visceral and perfect and I love it so much. Once again, thank you so, SO much for writing it and sharing it with the world ❤️ 2) "Vegas’ violence is unpredictable, painfully personal, and utterly, tragically ineffectual.

Pete forgives him all of it." - Civil Hands, by @ameliarating - I can't count the times I went feral over both Civil Hands and Deep Dive. As a fan of Pete, both of those fics mean the world to me, and this specific line has been on my mind since the moment I read it. I love how it showcases Vegas' effect on Pete's worldview, how Vegas made him break his own rules, and how he came to accept it, because it's him. Incredible writing, I love it so fucking much❤️ 3) "He’d rather be marked as disposable, he’d realized, than erased as invisible.

There was something bitter about realizing that he’d been both." - Once You Are Real, by @veliseraptor - Lise chose this for the summary and it's such a perfect choice. I think it's the reason I chose to read the fic in the first place. I am very emotional when it comes to the concept of Pete finding out he was forgotten, and this fic does an amazing job with it. I keep returning to it a lot, I love it to death. Painful in it's brilliance, I can't recommend it enough. 4) "“I don’t know,” Pete said unsteadily. “I don’t know. How could I know what that feels like? I’m not that kind of person.” He pulled against Vegas’s grip, and got nowhere. “You make my teeth ache. You make the world bright, like it’s real. It hurts. It’s hurt since I met you, but that means I can never forget I’m alive." - even the clearest water, by @luckydicekirby What a fic. The concept, the lines, the execution, it all deserves praise until the end of time. Pete's answer to Vegas' "Do you love me?" will always remain in my head as one of the best things VP-related I've ever read and ever will read in my life. I loved this so fucking much, I will never get over it ❤️ 5) "“And now you have nothing,” Kinn says. “As I said, a dumb move.”

“Wrong again,” Vegas says. “I now have something you don’t.”

“Oh?” Kinn doesn’t hide the way he rolls his eyes. “Massive hospital bills? Bed sores?”

“Happiness.”" - Your Power Over Me, by @wisteria-daydreamer - A very special shout out to my lovely friend who's written one of my favorite Kinn&Vegas fics I've ever had the pleasure to read. When this line came, I literally gasped out loud, it left me speechless. The way Kinn's POV is written was marvelous and the whole conversation he had with Vegas was incredible. Check it out if you crave some good Kinn&Vegas fics, it's very, very good. Disclaimer: I have so many fics and authors I love and I've made that clear to both them and my followers in the past. My brain could only handle doing 5 for this, but I absolutely have more than 5 that I'm obsessed with. Maybe one day I'll do a Part 2, I'll see how it goes in the future. No pressure tagging all the following lovely people, besides the writers that have already been tagged: @wretchedamaranth, @xpi-x-elx, @fleet-off, @lu-sn, @suzteel, @tsttoain, @thisautistic, @theoldastronomer, @vegaseatsass, @adanima, @kissporsche, @raksh-writes, @nyxelestia, @yourknightofrage, @mightymightygnomepriest, @justanothervariant, @justfionn and anyone else who wants to share the love for their fave fics and authors. You can do 5 or 10 or 100, there's no limit at all ❤️❤️

#Idk how this even came to mind but I love spreading appreciation for the people who have given me so many feels so here we go #No reason necessary tbh #I can't wait to see what people will share <33 #kinnporche the series #fanfic writing #writers asks