#which thank you so much covid 19

[gremlingottoosilly]

König giving his card to reader to splurge with, not on designer bags or clothing, but their expensive ass gaming set up. And it has to be those cute ones too, which are somehow more expensive than just wanting to have a plain setup. Reader definitely wears those headphones with cat ears on them.

Konig would definitely have a discord kitten during COVID-19; you can't change my mind. Imagine this man, being stuck in some half-abandoned mission because covid ruined too many plans and rendered half of the enemy's squad useless while also taking at least a quarter of his soldiers...so, he is stuck at the base somewhere really fucking far away, with nothing to do besides hating on Kortac's higher-ups and liking the fact that him wearing a mask in public finally doesn't look weird. He is still bored out of his mind, however, and he still wants something to do. Anything. Oh, also, he is still a loser and a weeb in hiding, using highly protected internet at base to watch pirated anime and get into arguments with chronically online teens on Discord. This is how he met you, actually. Not a teen, thank god, but surely chronically online. You said he had the charm of an autistic creature. You said that him being a war criminal is kinda problematic but, then again, some of your friends were into self-shipping with characters from war games, so he is kinda forgiven. You're saying words that he doesn't understand, but he is willing to spend hours on Urban Dictionary just so he could fish you into sending him nudes. Konig is stuck at some god-forgotten military base, but he still sends you money - mostly because having your nudes tailored to him and his perverted interests is much more fun than jerking off at some random porn model and also because he likes to think that you depend on him. He makes you send him photos of everything - shiny new computer he bought from the last sniping bonus, those expensive as fuck cat ear headphones that shine adorably in the ring light of your room. Konig who makes you facetime him for a quick e-sex - although he never turns on his camera, he loves to see you fuck yourself on the sex toy he sends you(something definitely too big for you, but he likes to see how quickly you can overcome challenges). If you want that shiny new PC setup, you have to work for it - and unfortunately for you, he found it really easy to get your exact address because of all the purchases. Don't be alarmed when he finally shows up after deployment, okay?

#konig x reader #cod #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod

[rongzhi]

Hi! Love your TikTok translations, they help me learn so much. Sorry if you've answered this before already, but as a language student myself, I was just curious about how you got so good at Chinese - is it a native language for you, or what's your background in using/studying it? Thank you!

I think I answered this a long time ago (like 2021 maybe) so I will just tell it again. It's kind of a longwinded boring post that's very self-centric (😬) and also probably not going to have any helpful advice to the average language learner, so I'm going to put it under a read more!

Background

My family is Chinese so it's my heritage language. I did learn it before English as a baby but then forgot a lot of it. My parents speak Chinese at home but I always replied in English growing up. Part of this is because I have a twin sibling and because we spoke English at school, we also started speaking English to each other at home.

We went to Chinese school on Sundays growing up (this is like a community/cultural school; it included other courses like math, Chinese dance, art, pre-SATs (lol), etc, depending on who in the community was available to teach), but I didn't really pay attention so my Chinese was pretty shit for a long time—like broken conversational level shitty, although I have always had a strong comprehension ability. My dad's side is from Sichuan so I grew up understanding a bit of Sichuanese.

The beginning of my "studying"

I don't actually have much of a background studying Chinese in a formal setting. I took Chinese 101-103 in college as part of a language requirement (specifically chose to start with 101 so I could relearn basics, even though my teachers kept offering to place me in higher levels). I really credit my Chinese 101 prof who was also the college's calligraphy teacher for making us focus on brush stroke order and recognising characters and understanding semantic components, which is something other profs did not emphasise (they were more focused on building conversational skills).

Anyway, that was only my freshman year of college because I ended up changing majors and not having a language requirement anymore (boo). I continued studying a bit of Chinese in the intervening years, but I am not a very disciplined person when it comes to self-study, so much of it was just translating song lyrics for my own amusement. During this time, I also started watching some cdramas, but mostly just Chinese web shows, which maybe helped? (I don't think I was watching enough for it to really make a difference).

Fast forward a couple years to 2020 and I started watching more cdramas during lockdowns, including watching 成化十四年 (The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty), which I was super invested in for about two years (this used to be a fandom blog lol). Basically, hyperfixation led me to rapidly improve my Chinese; I started translating a few behind-the-scenes videos for fandom friends. In order to keep up with Chinese fans and gain access to more material about the show, I started venturing onto Chinese sites such as weibo, bilibili, and eventually, douyin, which I downloaded around October of 2020 (so this was 6 months into my increased interest into Chinese things). At first, I translated a couple of douyins to share with fandom friends as I had done with behind-the-scenes materials, but for whatever reason I felt like some of the videos I wanted to translate would just be annoying to spam into the chat... I couldn't figure out a way to connect them to the blorbos, but I still wanted to translate them, so I started posting them here on tumblr. That's how my douyin translations started out. This was the height of covid-19 related sinophobia, too, so at some point I started realising how important it was to continue translating douyins, and that motivated me to continue even beyond it just being a fun thing to do. On that topic, it was through this blog that I realised how poorly understood China and Chinese people are, specifically on this site. I feel like that has changed a lot, or maybe that's just a comment on insular online spaces, but I have to think not; since I started translating douyins, I've seen a noticeable decrease in sinophobic comments and messages (not that I don't still get them, but it's lessened), and I think that's also thanks in great part to other blogs on here that were posting/have started to post more content from China to help increase exposure to tumblr users.

Improving

In any case, in the beginning, I did a lot of translations mostly by ear rather than reading captions because my Chinese reading wasn't that good.

It's kind of slowly improved with time and repetitive reading, and over the last three years now, I've also gone through periods of taking notes and actively seeking out some vocab lists or grammar explanations... but it usually comes in the process of trying to translate something. My motivations in "studying" (it's more like "figuring out") Chinese is largely based on the simple desire to know what people are talking about... what they're joking about... what they're ranting about and roasting. Related: I also started reading fanfics in Chinese about a year ago. Some fics have been easier to read than others, but some of the best ones I've read were also the ones that challenged me the most, and which I had to take a lot of notes on while reading. I'll admit! There have been times where I just took a fic and dumped that sucker in google translate and have it read the Chinese to me, so I could just listen to it like a podfic. But even so, I would take notes, because I think my improvements in Chinese are heavily connected to my Chinese literacy.

Reading douyin comments and forums on douban or comment sections on bilibili has been one of the main ways that I've picked up on common phrases and characters. I often write things down but I do so more as a muscle memory practice, because I have never really been the sort of person who reads back notes (this was also how I studied in school, iirc). Branching out and translating things that are written in formal or non-colloquial styles is also a way I challenge myself from time to time, and I do like to look up the etymology of Chinese characters from time to time because it helps me pick up patterns of semantics and phonetic hints when I'm reading (this makes it easier to guess what a character might mean or sound like, even if you've never seen it before). Overall, translation has been the great learning tool for me. I think maybe it comes down to learning styles? I have always learned better from trying to teach others, and I feel like translation works a similar muscle in the mind; translation is about figuring out ways to efficiently communicate a message, and in order to do so, you must be able to grasp the essence of what it is you're relaying.

All this said... And to try and return to your original ask after all my usual Wawa rambling... I actually don't think my Chinese is that good, lol. In fact, there's probably people who follow this blog who are studying Chinese in a more conventional and methodical manner whose Chinese is objectively much better than mine 🤷🏻‍♂️ I mean, if you crunch the numbers, I have really only be self-"studying" for three years. Three years of what is really just vibe-based learning. There's a lot of vocab I still don't know (I mean my English vocab is pretty limited too, sooo.... 😭), a lot of areas that I can still improve on, and am improving on, and try to improve on... when the mood strikes. Again, I am not a very disciplined self-study type.

Maybe this will give any other Chinese diaspora hope, though. I feel like it's never too late for us to start learning. There is probably a seed or language foundation within you already which will make it easier for you to start, and then after that, I think it sort of comes down to finding what interests you and will keep you motivated.

Most of the stuff I talk about on here when it comes to culture or folk art or what have you, I did not know even five years ago! I learned about it because I was interested to find out more. (That's another reason I have to laugh when I get some of the asks I do in my inbox... The stuff I don't answer is dumbfounding at times. You translate a couple of funny videos and people think you're some kind of Tripadvisor cultural ambassador guy! I swear...)

The "study" resources I use regularly are the following:

Pleco

Zh-En browser extension

Yellowbridge (usually to check brush stroke order, since I have Pleco)

Baidu etymology pages / Chinese etymology dictionaries such as hanziyuan

#text #answered ask #about me

[peavhyshy]

𝗣𝗘𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦 (oneshot)

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: In which you keep JJ company while he recovers from COVID-19, playing nurse and cuddling up to take care of him.

Warnings: covid-19, sexually suggestive comments, fluff, some angst?, mild language, mention of JJ's dad, JJ kisses reader even though he has COVID, obviously you shouldn't kiss someone if you have covid but this based on that one Lana Del Rey lyric

Words: 1,424

Outer Banks Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Peppers (the lana song)

You knocked on the screen door of the worn-down beach house, peering inside for any signs of life. "JJ?" you called out.

A round of violent coughing echoed from down the hall followed by a raspy voice. "In here!"

You let yourself in, wrinkling your nose at the lingering scent of beer and cigarettes that permeated the Maybank home. You found JJ curled up on the couch, wrapped in a tattered blanket. His nose was red, his blond hair a tangled mess. Used tissues littered the coffee table in front of him.

"You look like death," you said, plopping down on the couch next to him.

JJ cracked a smile. "Thanks, that makes me feel so much better." His voice was hoarse.

You playfully hit his arm. "You know what I mean. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, just dandy," JJ said. "Peachy keen." He erupted into another fit of coughing.

You grabbed a half-empty glass of water from the table and handed it to him. "Here, drink this."

JJ took a few sips to soothe his throat. "So I'm guessing you got my text about testing positive for the 'rona?"

"Yup, got it this morning," You said. As you absentmindedly pushed JJ's hair back from his sweaty forehead to feel his temperature.

"And you still came over?" JJ asked in disbelief. "I'm like super contagious right now."

You shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a ride or die. Gotta make sure you're okay."

JJ grinned and pulled you in for a big sloppy kiss. You squealed and pushed him away.

"Ew JJ! What the hell?" You dramatically wiped your mouth.

"Hey, you're the one who came to see me, COVID cooties and all," JJ said with a laugh that turned into a cough. "Might as well seal the deal and swap some germs."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling. "You're disgusting." you tossed him the TV remote. "Now pick something to watch while I make you some soup or something. We'll ride out this quarantine together."

JJ clicked on the TV, settling back into the couch. "You know, you really are the best."

"Yeah, yeah," you waved dismissively but you were still smiling. "Just don't cough on me anymore."

JJ grinned mischievously at you despite his sickly state. "Don't tempt me, I have no problem about getting you sick too if it means more time with my best girl." He faked a dramatic coughing fit, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from you though he could tell you weren't actually annoyed with him.

"You're just loving having me play nurse for you, aren't you?" You joked as you headed to the kitchen. He could get used to being quarantined if you were taking care of him, that was for sure. Maybe he'd milk this illness a little longer than necessary.

JJ stretched out languidly on the couch, the old springs creaking beneath his weight. He grabbed another tissue to blow his nose which was growing raw and irritated from constant wiping. At least he could still vaguely taste and smell - the steaming bowl of soup you soon presented to him was evidence of that.

"You're a lifesaver, I don't know what I'd do without you Y/N," JJ said earnestly after finishing the entire bowl in record time, his appetite apparently unaffected. He playfully patted the spot on the couch next to him, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Now, nurse, I believe your patient requires some additional tender loving care, if you know what I mean."

"Come on baby, you know you want to play nurse with me," he cajoled, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. He faked another dramatic coughing fit. "I think I need some mouth-to-mouth resuscitation," he joked, making exaggerated kissing noises.

Truth be told, he just wanted you close to him, to feel your soothing presence. Having you here taking care of him made him feel cared for in a way he rarely experienced from his drunk deadbeat dad. He reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you down onto the couch. You let out a surprised squeak as you fell into his lap. JJ wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck.

"Mmm you smell good," he mumbled, breathing in the sweet floral scent of your skin and hair. You squirmed against him but didn't fully pull away. JJ reached up and playfully tugged on one of your strands of hair.

"Just let me hold you for a bit," he pleaded, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. "It'll help me feel better, I promise." He cracked a mischievous grin. "Unless you want to do more than cuddle…" he added suggestively, waggling his eyebrows.

You felt your cheeks flush as JJ pulled you into his lap, his arms holding you close. Despite his illness, that cocky grin of his still made your stomach flutter.

"JJ!" You tried to scold, but couldn't keep the smile off your face. His enthusiasm was infectious. You playfully swatted his hands away as they drifted to your chest.

"Cuddle only mister. I'm immune to those puppy dog eyes," You said firmly. Still, you relaxed into his embrace, nestling your head on his shoulder.

"For now at least," JJ teased, his warm breath tickling your ear. 

Maybe you’d regret this later, but right now taking care of a sick JJ felt natural. He needed you- and knowing that filled you with purpose. You glanced up at him, heart melting at the open affection in his eyes. You reached up and traced the bruise on his jaw from his latest fight.

"I'll always be here to patch you up JJ," you murmured. Impulsively you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. JJ sighed in contentment, tightening his arms around you. For now, you simply held each other, letting the steady beats of your hearts lull you into comfort. The rest of the world could wait.

''Will your dad be back soon?''

JJ glanced nervously at the front door before settling his gaze back on you. "He shouldn't be back for a while," he said quietly. "Went on one of his benders last night so he'll probably sleep through the day."

JJ shifted on the worn couch, wincing slightly as the movement aggravated his sore ribs. He hoped you wouldn't notice - the last thing he wanted was your pity. "I wish he'd just disappear for good," JJ muttered bitterly. He scrubbed a hand across his face, not wanting to dwell on his useless excuse for a father.

"Anyway, enough about him," JJ said, forcing a grin. "I've got way better company right now."

He playfully tugged on one of the hair strands, admiring how the sunlight filtering through the blinds brought out the highlights in your hair. You were so beautiful it made his chest ache. JJ wished he could freeze this moment - just the two of you here together, your kind eyes gazing at him with understanding rather than judgment.

"You're too good to me Y/N," JJ said quietly. Before he could overthink it, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. Your skin was petal soft beneath his lips.

JJ pulled back, heart hammering in his chest. He gave you a crooked smile, hoping you couldn't hear how loud it was beating. "So, wanna raid the crappy cable TV options with me? We can trash talk all the awful daytime soaps."

You looked shocked, unable to speak for a few moments before recovering. You composed yourself before answering, "You know I'll always be here for you JJ, whenever you need me." You give him a soft smile, trying to convey your sincerity. If he wants to drop the subject of his father and move on, you'll happily oblige.

"Daytime TV sounds perfect right now. Let's see who can come up with the most ridiculous plot summaries for these shows," You say with a playful grin. You grab the remote and start flipping through channels, settling on a particularly melodramatic soap opera.

Leaning into JJ's side, you point at the screen. "Okay, that guy definitely just found out the kid he's raising isn't actually his. And that woman is clearly his scorned ex-lover who's out for revenge." You dissolve into giggles, amused by your own silly narration.

You are glad to see JJ's somber mood start to lift, a small smile creeping onto his face. Moments like these make all the chaos and hardship feel worth it. As long as you have each other, you'll be okay.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #obx #outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fic #obx imagine #jj obx #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks jj

[useless-catalanfacts]

No question. Just rant. I love your page. And sorry for chaotic story time vibes, but I don't think I'd realised how crazy this anti-catalan thing really is until I travelled to southern Spain. My Spanish is not great, but I took a course in Catalan in high school (long story on why this was available in my city but it also included a human tower party at the end and it was brilliant even tho I almost died) so when talking to people I casually threw in some Catalan words to help my Spanish. I am Norwegian, and I thought it was kind of like... as if someone was trying to speak Norwegian but casually threw in some Swedish to fill in the gaps. Like we would totally have joked about it, but overall we would just be grateful they really made an effort to be understood. But no. IT WAS NOT THE CASE. My host was literally offended. Like offended offended. I didn't really get it, because it's not like the Catalans have oppressed him and I'm coming here speaking the tongue of the oppressor (its kinda the opposite). But no. My host acted if I was the most ignorant person ever. He basically sat me down and explained that I have to show respect and speak castillian (or english, which was apparently fine, even if he understood about 1% of it), and then I asked if he would speak Catalan if he visited Barcelona and he said he would never visit Barcelona because he didn't like the people there. And then I said that if you hate them so much, why not throw them out of the country, get rid of them, and let them have their own state? It sounds like a win-win. And he looked as if he was gonna hit me.

Ah 😬

I wish things like this surprised me, but I have family from Andalucía and Extremadura and have friends who also have family from Andalucía, and so I've heard this and worse... It also reminded me of a few weeks ago when there was a scandal because a train in Málaga (in Andalucía, southern Spain) gave the announcements in Catalan instead of Spanish (turns out the train had been programmed in Catalonia during the COVID-19 restrictions and later moved to the Málaga train system, but for some mistake this day it was showing COVID-19 precaution in Catalan from 2020 now in 2024). It was such a scandal that it was on the news and politicians were making such a big deal of it, the PP (the most voted party in Málaga and of all Andalucía) also said it was "offensive" and that Malagans were being "laughed at" by the trains. Other errors in public transport that actually mean people can't travel in time don't get reported as much as when one train's screens tell you in Catalan to wear your facemask. 🤷

The last part of what you say, absolutely right. I never understood it either: if they really don't like us, then shouldn't they also be interested in not having anything to do with us? Why not just kick us out? I never really understood it until some years ago when I heard the words of a right-wing Spanish journalist (I think was Federico Jiménez Losantos?) who said something along the lines of "if Catalans want to leave, then leave. But Catalonia is ours." Meaning that Catalan people, individually, we can leave and migrate abroad. But the land is a possession of Spain, our homeland is their property. I think that sums up that view. It's not about being annoyed at having to share a state with a culture you despise, it's about wanting to keep domination.

I'm sorry you had this experience. Your effort to communicate should have been valued, and pulling the words you know from a language from the same linguistic family was a good idea that would have worked great, they wouldn't have found it offensive if the language you knew instead of Catalan was Italian, Portuguese, etc. Thank you very much for sharing your experience, and I hope you could enjoy the rest of your trip (Southern Spain, outside of situations like this, is a beautiful place), and I'm very glad to hear you enjoyed the castells party (and didn't die in it)!

#ask #anonymous #actualitat #catalanophobia #catalanofòbia #coses de la terra #catalonia #catalunya #spain #language rights #language imperialism #imperialism #cultural imperialism #languages #langblr

[beekeeperspicnic]

I'm literally sobbing;

it's time to talk about the game backgrounds.

You've done an exquisite job creating the game's atmosphere. Until recently, I couldn't quite grasp the indescribable feeling they evoked in me until I stumbled upon an illustration on Tumblr. In it, Tilda stands on the shore, gazing into the watery distance. The moment I saw this image, my heart skipped a few beats, and it has not let go of me, leading me to the state I find myself in as I write this letter.

My hometown is a city built along a river, devoid of tourists and featuring quiet stretches of sand on small beaches tucked away among slopes and tall shrubs. From my earliest childhood, I remember the river, which, in any season, maintained its grandeur—a broad waterline that at some point broke the line of the opposite shore, transitioning into the sea, practically merging with the sky.

For two years now, we've been at war; the shores are mined. In all this time, two people have lost their lives, and we're even asked to walk dogs near our yards. This place pulls and beckons, and sometimes, standing on the slope of the hill, I look down at the river, as if it still means everything, causing an inexplicable longing.

I don't know the context of the illustration, but how it imprinted in my memory helped me understand my feelings towards the atmosphere of your game. It so closely resembles my home, that lost place from better times.

Now, as I go through the demo version with friends, I occasionally point to the screen, saying that it looks like my hometown, and it becomes very cozy. I don't know if in the next ten or twenty years I'll be able to descend to my native shore without holding my breath in blind danger, but I do know that I have a wonderful substitute in your game.

I will faithfully await the release of the full game; thank you very much for this work—you're an inspiring person. Thanks again.

Thank you so, so much for writing this. The idea of my game being with you and even helping in some small way means so very much to me. I think I'll return to read this again very often.

I'll talk a bit about the context of the image below, so I guess if someone doesn't want to know, they should stop reading now!

**** SPOILERS BELOW ****

The game is set just after WW1 and the 1918–1920 flu pandemic. Both of Tilda's parents have died, and she is walking alone on the beach and thinking about that.

What she doesn't know is that Holmes and Watson are watching her from the clifftop, and considering how both they, and Tilda's extended family, care for her will always look after her.

I never know as a writer whether I should talk about the subtext of my own work, especially when it's a game that hasn't even been released yet. It might be that none of this really comes through in the final game, I don't know!

But I think it was initially a product of me processing the Covid-19 pandemic, and the reprehensible way politicians and policy makers and leaders acted, and the fact that people died, and the fact that we're all supposed to carry on our day to day lives as if that's ok now?

I say the game is set in 1920, but it's not really - it's set in a little universe set apart from ours. The characters in the game have all been affected by war and disease (and are still being affected by those things - and always will be affected by those things), and I've given them a space which is gentle to them as they look towards creating a better future.

#nice asks

[communistkenobi]

im an undergrad student who was thinking about specializing in studying fascist movements in North America for my masters and ive really enjoyed reading your book commentary - you connect things that I'm not always aware of in ways that are really comprehensive and appreciate

Do you know of any researchers who are moving things on the topic right now (most of the books ive read are around 20+ years old, unfortunately)?

(sorry if any of this is unclear/grammatically incorrect/weirdly worded - I'm super sick rn)

thank you! I'm really glad to hear that :)

For contemporary writing, I'm currently working through some of Alberto Toscano's work - he has a really interesting article from 2021 on fascism from a Black radical/Marxist perspective where he summarizes various historical analyses of fascism from Black (particularly US) thinkers and activists. One thing I especially appreciate is that he complicates Aime Cesaire's formulation of fascism (i.e., "european colonialism come home") as incomplete when applied to settler colonial contexts, especially the United States - one of Cesaire's articulations of fascism is that (to paraphrase) "one fine day, the prisons begin to fill up, the Gestapo gets busy" and so on, and Toscano, working through Angela Davis and George Jackson, responds with (again I'm paraphrasing) "the prisons are already full! The Gestapo is already here!" etc. Toscano also has a new book that just came out in 2023 called Late Fascism, which explicitly addresses the current moment. I only have a physical copy of that so I can't share a pdf unfortunately, and I still need to get around to reading it lol.

These are also a couple random articles I found insightful:

Carnut (2022). Marxist Critical Systematic Review on Neo-Fascism and International Capital: Diffuse Networks, Capitalist Decadence and Culture War - does what it says on the tin

Daggett (2018). Petro-masculinity: Fossil Fuels and Authoritarian Desire - talks about car culture as a site of modern reactionary political movements, links climate denialism with (proto-)fascist movements

Parmigiani (2021). Magic and politics: Conspirituality and COVID-19 - this one does not mention fascism explicitly, but imo the intersection between new age spirituality, anti-vaccine sentiment, and qanon/q-adjacent conspiracies are pretty important to understanding contemporary fascist social movements, so I'd still recommend reading this

Finally, this isn't an article but I found this recorded lecture about the history of Qanon pretty interesting. I don't think the author gives particularly insightful answers on how to solve the problem of far right conspiracies in the Q&A portion but I found it to be a helpful summary

Otherwise I've been focusing a lot on decolonial scholarship more so than fascist scholarship - this is again guided by Cesaire's argument that Europe/The West broadly is inherently fascist. These works aren't contemporary, but you can look at this post for some of the readings I linked on decolonial scholarship if you want to go that route. Those are serving me more for theoretical frameworks to guide contemporary analysis, not analysis of contemporary events directly

also idk if I need to put this disclaimer, but just in case this leaves my blog: this isn't a full throated defense of/apology for everything in these articles, I'm not claiming they're sufficient to understanding the present moment, these are just some of the things I've been reading recently and have found helpful in some way or another. a lot of contemporary work I have read (much of which isn't linked here because I don't think its very good/do not have it on hand) focuses on populism and authoritarianism as central analytical terminology, which i think does a lot of work to exceptionalize and mystify fascism as a historical and political process/project originating from European colonialism & Western imperialism, but these terms are endemic to the field so you have to contend with them no matter what

good luck with your studies!

#asks #book club #i need a fascism tag i think lol. maybe ill make one later

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being snippy with my friend?

I (17) and my friend X (20) recently had a small altercation, but I can't stop thinking about it.

Some context, me and X have been friends off and on for about 4 years, and have had some rough patches throughout. in the past we had petty squabbles and when I was 15 I cut them off for a couple years, only to start talking to them again early 2023.

In the past X displayed some small hints of antisemitism (I am jewish) and mild dismissal of my feelings. When I was 15 I cut them off after a tiny conflict regarding supporting homophobic businesses resulted in me waking up to them tweeting about me seven times on their twitter (which we were mutuals on) and them telling our mutual friend they were walking on eggshells around me in a discord server we were all in.

over the past week I have been very sick with COVID-19, and extreme pain from my wisdom teeth that have left me unable to speak, I told X all of this. two nights ago they sent a story they wrote about their characters, and in another channel of the server talked about two of our characters. It was 9pm my time and I felt like trash, so I didn't bother replying to either since I knew they'd be going to sleep soon (they live in a timezone three hours later than mine)

I woke up yesterday to them saying how much it hurt their feelings that no one replied to either, saying "I don't care but I really do". I replied: "sorry I usually stop checking non pings at night when I'm sick".

they replied with: "no it's fine - I just think it's funny - so funny - Also ur not the only person in the server so LMFAO - I hope you don’t think it was directed at you" (dashes for different messages sent)

this really rubbed me the wrong way and even though I said it was fine it really made me uncomfortable. after our past experiences of them saying interacting with me was like "walking on eggshells" or them posting about me to their twitter, I've been thinking about it. they also have a tendency to come into dms to rant about mutual friends of ours, so I don't put it past them still doing that about me.

I normally really like them and enjoy their company, but seeing how they acted when I was sick and unwilling to speak really gave me a red flag. I'm considering stepping away for a little bit, but cutting contact again is also in the back of my mind. I'm just not sure what to do.

thank you

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[nicksbestie]

can you write where you secretly adopt duke for cal’s birthday? please 🥹🫶

Birthday

(okay so for the sake of this fic Covid-19 started in January of 2020 not March)

word count : 1260

warnings : none!

enjoy!

<3

Calum’s birthday was coming up and you desperately wanted to surprise him with something big, but you had to try and figure out what.

He deserved something huge, and while money wasn’t an issue for the two of you, you still had to pick a reasonable thing to get for a gift. It took you a few hours to come up with something, but eventually you picked one. Calum had been desperate for a dog since you two had moved in together, but since he was always running around and on tour, and you had a busy job as well, having a puppy just wasn’t going to work.

The dog wouldn’t get the attention and care it truly needed, despite whether or not you cared for the dog. But now, you were both at home, due to Covid-19, and nobody was really going anywhere. It was a perfect time to get a new animal, and you weren't the only one who thought so. You had seen Calum’s camera roll, and it was filled with dogs and puppies of all breeds. So, you decided, you were going to get him a puppy. 

It wasn’t going to be easy to keep it a secret from him, but you went to an animal shelter the day before his birthday, and spent so much time with all of the dogs. It wasn’t until you got to the very last one that you felt a strong connection to him. He had been there for five months, and his age was estimated to be about one year old. His name tag on his cage read “Duke”, and when you read his estimated age, you were happy to see that he was a younger dog, which was what you were looking for. 

He was black and white, and very fluffy, and you knew Calum would fall in love with him instantly. So, you went up to the desk to start filling out the adoption papers. When you were talking about which dog you wanted, you learnt that he was already house trained, which was a wonderful thing to hear, because as much as you wanted a dog, you were dreading cleaning up poop from around the house until he was trained. You paid his adoption fee, they put a travel leash on him, and now, you and Calum had a dog. But where was he going to go for the night? You smirked, calling up Ashton, knowing he had a soft spot for Calum. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ash! Can I ask you a favor? But you have to keep it a secret.” 

You could pretty much hear him raise an eyebrow before he agreed, humming an affirmative. 

“I got Calum a gift, but I need you to keep it at your place overnight because he can’t see it until tomorrow.” 

Ashton sounded a little hesitant, mostly confused. 

“You can’t wrap it?” 

You laughed, trying to cover it with a cough but miserably failing. 

“No, I can’t.” 

Duke chose this moment to see a squirrel on the side of the road, losing his absolute mind barking, and of course, Ashton heard. 

“Did you get him a dog?!”

You smiled, petting Duke on the head and getting him to hop down from the window. 

“I did. So, can you keep him for the night? He’s already house trained.”

Ashton sighed, but you could hear the smile and knew he was relenting. 

“Yes, bring him over.” 

“Okay, thanks! See you soon.” 

Before getting to Ashton’s house, you stopped to get him a water and food bowl, as well as some dog food. The shelter had given you the brand that they used to feed the dogs, so you picked up a bulk bag of that, making sure he had everything he needed. You also got him a bed, a soft fluffy one. Arriving at Ashton’s, you walked up to the door with Duke, and he sat right outside with his tongue hanging lopsided out of his mouth. As Ashton opened the door, you could see the last of his resolve fade away as he immediately crouched down to pet him, picking him up in his arms and cooing at him. 

You unloaded the things, helping Ashton set it up for the one night, and laughing when Ashton just waved you off, promising you he could handle it. After about an hour, you left, feeling that Duke would be safe and loved for the one night before you brought him home the next morning. 

– 

The next morning, you had woken up before Calum, and had gone to pick up Duke. Ashton was quite reluctant to let him go, but you promised he could come over later to celebrate. He was currently outside, and you were setting up Duke’s things in the living room. His bowls were in the kitchen, but his bed was right next to the couch. You went to wake up Calum, smiling as his eyes opened and he sat up, yawning. 

“Happy birthday!!! I hate to wake you, but I need a little bit of help this morning.” 

You didn’t need any help, you just were incapable of keeping the secret any longer. Calum smiled, even wider when you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, laughing when he tried to pull you back into bed with him. 

“Aww, come on. It’s my birthday, you’re not going to cuddle with me?” 

You grinned, pulling yourself free. 

“Trust me, you’d rather get up.” 

This piqued his curiosity, and he got out of bed, sleepily following you to the kitchen. You acted like you had no idea what was about to happen, smiling as he just followed you around like a lost puppy, pun intended. You had a few gifts wrapped on the table, noticing him eyeing them like a small child. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, moving behind him to fill Duke’s water bowl. Calum hadn’t realized it yet.

“Before you open anything, can you let the dog back inside? I forgot to do it before I came and woke you.” 

Calum was used to dog-sitting for his friends, this phrase being not completely unfamiliar to him, and so it took him about thirty seconds to realize what you just said.

“Yeah- wait. What?!” 

You smiled as he basically sprinted to his sliding porch door, his hands clapping over his mouth when Duke sprinted over to the new human being, his new owner. Calum immediately dropped to the ground to pet him, laughing and smiling as Duke licked all over his face, spinning in excited circles as Calum petted him. Calum picked him up and walked back inside, disregarding the open door as he looked at you in shock. 

“You- you got me a dog?! You got us a dog?!” 

You smiled, pulling out your phone and taking a photo as Calum held the dog up to eye level, setting him on his head and posing in the kitchen, smiling like an absolute fool. You picked Duke up off of Cal’s head, holding him for a selfie with the three of you. 

“He’s ours? Like, forever?” 

You nodded, handing him back to Calum as he set him down and watched him spin from excitement.

“What’s his name?” 

“I got him from the shelter, his name is Duke.” 

If Calum smiled any harder, his jaw might’ve broken. 

“I love him. Best birthday ever.” 

Calum spent the next three hours teaching him tricks, and if Duke ate his body weight in treats, all it showed was that he was loved.

#5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5sos fluff #5sos angst #5sos #5sos x reader #5sosfam #calum hood x reader #luke hemmings x reader #boyfriend calum hood #duke hood #calum's dog duke #calum is a dog lover #calum hood fluff #calum hood birthday #asks with aus

[starcastels]

Why Creek the best couple in south park?

Craig and Tweek are the perfect couple. They completely complement each other and fit together. As it is right in relationships there are archetypes. Tweek is disturbing. He needs to feel needed. Often archetypes of this type get stuck in thoughts about the past or worries about what might happen. It is important for such people that a partner gives them a sense of security.

Craig - reflects the supporting archetype. Reliable, loyal, calm. Such a person is an indispensable “vest” for his partner. You can say, a shoulder on which you can lean. Just the same, these two archetypes are made for each other to be close. They harmonize perfectly. In the beginning, their relationship was fake. They did it to calm the city. But, later it grew into a real healthy relationship. When you look at their relationship, you get inspired. Their problems, joy, sadness. Tweek despite his panic attacks, he is still strong. Tweek needs a person who will guide him in the right way. Remembering the series where Tweek was afraid that he would be kidnapped, no one wanted to talk to him normally, show how the world works, and when a pedophile explains to him that the world is not so bad (which is ironic), he calms down and he draws conclusions, so Craig is the perfect person for Tweek . Craig is the one who will always support him. Craig not only changed with Tweak (for the good) but also changed the tweak. Their personalities are perfect for helping each other. Craig has changed from a 2nd class bully, and a cynic. To a fairly sociable class member and supportive person. After season 19, their relationship is not mentioned very often. A major change in season 21, in the episode "Put It Down" you can see how Tweek and Craig communicate in private, without any need to pretend. Craig uses affectionate call signs such as "dear", "honey" to Tweek while holding his hand. He tries to calm him down. When he finally managed to calm Tweek, he stops twitching, smiles and remains calm in the flesh until the end of the series. Although their relationship was provoked by the public, they still fell in love with each other. In the game, they temporarily part when Tweek goes to the other side. As a result, they can be tried on during the passage, after which they acquire a powerful attack that they carry out holding hands (it is made in the anime style), it is also found out that Tweek gave Craig gets a new guinea pig, Stripe, to replace the one that died, and Craig says she's special because she belongs to Craig and Tweek, after which he adds "yes Craig is super gay." which is another support for the fact that the relationship of the guys from the simulated ones has become real. In further appearances after season 21, Tweek became much less shaky and blinking, thanks to Craig he became more confident in himself, in the post-Covid episode we are shown South Park after 40 years. As you can see, Tweek and Craig are still together.

★ Art credit:

#sp creek #south park #creek #tweek x craig #tweek tweak #craig tucker #twaig #sp twaig #sp

[convolutedblasphemy]

Since it's Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week I want to thank the aro community for everything they taught me and everything they did for me even before I started to identify as frayromantic. I had so much amatonormativity to unlearn before I could arrive at this point, so this is my first aro week, but identifying as ace for years, I inevitably met a lot of aros online and saw a lot of aro positivity posts.

Truth be told, from age 14 - 19 I suffered a period of debilitating, very traumatizing emotional abuse that killed my entire social life and my abuser would make sure i couldn't form these bonds when i wanted to. As soon as I got out of that -> covid lockdown. When the pandemic restrictions were lifted I've spent 7 years at that point pretty much socially isolated aside from online contacts. And in the past 3 years I've been busy healing, studying, adulting and picking up the pieces.

It's been almost a decade now in which I didn't have a stable social life (aside from my relatives) and everyone else has always looked at me with this... weird pity for it. I had a lot of anxiety due to being ace as well; because i didn't feel like i could find that close committed relationship i wanted without engaging in sexual activity. People imagined the past decade in my life as me sitting on the couch all day wallowing in self-pity and loneliness, which honestly does such a disservice to all the places I visited, the ways in which i've grown, the art i made and the changes i made. People treated me like I had wasted 10 years of my life and constantly put pressure on me to be more social, to put myself into situations i wasn't comfortable with or to at least get a partner so I won't have to die alone. Dying alone was this terrible horror concept that was pushed onto me as my inevitable fate if i didn't get my shit together. And for the longest time I believed that. I hardly struggled with loneliness, I struggled with this internalized idea that I had failed at life - that i am a failure - if i don't have this many irl friends or a partner.

The aro community was THE FIRST SPACE that helped me dismantle this perspective of seeing the relationships in my life as an extension of myself. The first space that taught me that relationships of any kind aren't these things i have to collect to prove I've led a successful life. The first community that turned around and said "You are whole as you are. You are enough. And you don't need anyone else to complete you." And hearing that, to me, was such a wake-up call; it was such a novelty-realization in contrast to all the bullshit i had internalized, that I cried because damn, this was what I needed to hear.

Suddenly the value of my life wasn't defined by the kind of relationships and how many relationships I filled it with. Suddenly I realized that the committed relationship I wanted didn't have to be romantic (or sexual for that matter); hell, I didn't even want it to be. Suddenly I realized the biggest obstacle to enjoying life for me was all the people who told me i wasn't enjoying my life properly. The aro community taught me so much about love, self-worth and independence. And I haven't been active here for long but everyone has been so kind.

The aro community gave me all the hope and positivity that i needed to focus on myself and my life. I still want to form meaningful irl friendships and get a QPR in the future but the pressure is gone to get all of that asap or else my time on this earth is wasted. I have faith that these things will come when I'm ready and when it's the right time and even if they don't, it's not going to be the end of the world. My value as a person and the success of my life is not defined by the people in it and it never will be. Nor will yours. Nor will anyone's.

Some of y'all might be out here asking yourselves "I'm not aro, what does the aromantic community concern me?" So much. Amatonormativity and relationship hierarchy go so much deeper than just the assumption that everyone desires romantic love. The aromantic community can teach us so much and help us unlearn so many things that are ingrained into our system and into our way of thinking. We should be unlearning those things because doing so will take pressure away from all of us, no matter how we identify. The aromantic community should concern you because they're people with their own hopes and dreams who deserve to find happiness in whatever way feels right for them without the world constantly telling them they're doing it wrong.

The aromantic community has made me a more understanding, hopeful, positive and independent person and I can't thank them enough for that. Happy Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week.

🧡💛🤍🩵💙

#aromantic #aroace #aromantic spectrum #aro week #frayromantic #aromantism #aro #aromantic community

[racinggirl]

safe haven || charles leclerc 16

type: one shot pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 1.5k summary: charles taking care of you whilst you're sick at home requested: yes! “Hi :) First of all, I loove your writing! It's immaculate! Saw you're taking requests and I was wondering if you could do one, where reader is sick (the flu or smth?) and Charles (or anyone you want) takes care of them? Like really fluffy? Thank you so much and have a wonderful week :))” (by anon) Yeeees girl, who doesn't want fluff Charles boyfriend??? Requests are OPEN!!! warnings: mentions of being sick, mentions of !covid!, tons and tons of fluff, not proofread! notes: I'm sooooo sorry it took so long! I just had such a big writersblock and I didn't had the motivation to write anything atm. I will try to write more, I promise! Also, I hope you'll love it! I just wrote it in about an hour or so. I lowkey like it, but if you have tips or just things you really like about my writing and want to see more of, just lmk and hmu!

My masterlist

‘’I hate being sick.’’

‘’I know baby, I know, but I’m here okay? I’ll take care of you.’’

Those were the words you needed more than anything at this exact moment, in which you were on the couch in your boyfriends apartment in Monaco, your back leaning against his strong chest, his arms wrapped around you protectively. You felt safe, more than anywhere else in the world, because he was your home, your safe haven.

It all started a few days ago, you weren’t feeling too good after the Hungarian Grand Prix, but you tried to brush it off. Just a cold, at least, that’s what you thought. You made sure to do a COVID-19 test just in case, even though corona wasn’t really a subject people talked about anymore, at least, the illness, not the drink, people loved the drink.

Negative, thankfully, so you weren’t too worried about the fact you might have to go in quarantine. Just a cold, right?

No, things got worse, from a running nose to coughing, as well as stomach pains and headaches. You had the flu, and it was horrible. You never got sick, not even a cold would get you, usually. But right now, you could curse the whole world and space, because you absolutely hated it.

You tried to keep your cool, not wanting your boyfriend to worry about you, he had enough on his mind with the final adjustments before summer break. But he wasn’t one to fool, he knew something was going on.

‘’Baby, are you okay?’’ Charles had noticed you were a little less active when you came back home. Normally you’d drag him out for a walk around the harbour, watching the sunset in the evening, or the sunrise in the early hours. But this time, you’d just head straight to the couch, curling up under the blanket.

‘’Did I put the air-conditioning too high?’’ He frowned the moment you reached for the black fluffy blanket underneath your tv.

‘’No, no, it’s fine.’’ You mumbled, a sneeze and a cough giving away your current state.

‘’Are you sick?’’

‘’…’’

‘’Baby?’’

‘’Yes, I think I am.’’ You mumbled, curling up more underneath the blankets.

Charles smiled weakly, making his way towards the couch as he took a seat next to you, his arms carefully wrapping around your shivering body.

‘’No, I don’t want you to get sick too.’’ You whispered, moving in your boyfriends arms, but you too knew, he was stronger than you, so after just a few seconds of trying to get out of his grip, you gave up, your head resting against his chest as you closed your eyes.

‘’Then we’ll be sick together.’’ He said, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

‘’Charles, I’m serious.’’ You mumbled, removing your head from his chest to look up into his eyes, a sigh escaping your lips.

He simply shrugged his shoulders and pulled you closer, just to give you a peck on your lips. He didn’t care. He wanted to take care of you, because he loved you.

It stayed like that for a few days, you had zero energy, sleeping for almost the entire day, while Charles took care of you, handing you your tea, as well as providing you with the best movies (he picked them).

‘’Babe, you need to go to work.’’ You were on the same position again, under the same blankets – who had been washed twice already by your boyfriend who insisted on washing the blankets everyday to give you a ‘fresh one’ each day – while Charles was making your lemon tea in the kitchen.

‘’They don’t mind if I’m a bit later, it’s summer break anyways.’’ He told you, cutting up the apple slices just the way you liked it.

‘’They do, baby, they want to celebrate their summer break too. I’m fine okay? I’m feeling a little better already.’’ You said, looking at the Monégasque as he walked to the couch, eyes focussed on the tea so it wouldn’t spill, he had filled it to the top.

‘’A little, which doesn’t mean a lot, so I’m now turning on the tv for you and putting on another Harry Potter movie, okay? And I’ll get your sweater in case you get cold and-‘’

‘’Charles!’’ You laughed, a small smile on your lips as you watch your boyfriend ramble on about the things he was going to do for you.

‘’I can do things myself too, you know?’’ You smiled sweetly, his face confused and searching for the right words.

‘’But…’’

‘’No, no buts, you get your ass to work, I’ll be fine, okay?’’ You shot him a reassuring smile, one he knew was sincere.

After a few seconds, he decided to agree, after trying to search for excuses, which you only rejected. He left for work, but told you he’d be home as soon as possible so you two could order food from your favourite restaurant.

He was an angel, he really was. Every morning he would prepare your tea, cut up your fruits because he knew you didn’t like to eat bread in the morning. Everyday he would give you a little more food, knowing you slowly started to gain your appetite again. Every afternoon he would prepare a lunch, as well as a movie the two of you would watch together. He gave you kisses, which you tried to avoid because you did not want him to get sick too. Every evening he would either order or prepare dinner, and prepare a bath for the two of you to enjoy after chilling on the couch the entire day. After that, he would make the bed, turn on the candles in the bedroom, and give you a massage. He was the perfect boyfriend, and you loved him more every second of every day.

As soon as he came home that evening, he did exactly what he said he would. He ordered dinner, cuddled you on the couch, watching the movie you were currently watching, and waited for dinner to arrive.

After dinner he ran upstairs to prepare the bath, spreading rose pedals he bought the other day all over the floor and bath, filling it up with your favourite scented bath gel and candles for the romantic vibe.

‘’You know.’’ You whispered, leaning against his chest, the warmth of the water around you giving you tingles all over your body.

‘’Hmm?’’ Charles hummed, his chin resting on the top of your head, his arms wrapped around your body to pull you close to him, his breath moving some baby hairs on the top of your head.

‘’I think I should be sick more often.’’ You whispered, eyes closing as you felt his chest move, a low chuckle leaving his lips. He smiled, his hands drawing small circles on your stomach, the circles slowly turning into little hearts.

‘’I think you shouldn’t, because you keep avoiding my kisses.’’ He whispered, his breath hitting your temple since you had turned your head to the side, making you able to hear his heartbeat. His heartbeat, which was slow, relaxed, because he had you in his arms.

‘’I’m only doing that because I don’t want you to get sick, but you aren’t really helping.’’ You giggled, your hand moving to his upper leg, nails scratching his skin in the warm water.

‘’I won’t get sick.’’ He smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. ‘’My immune system is the best.’’ He smirked, in which you rolled your eyes with a smile as a response.

Once you got out of the bath, he made sure to wrap a towel around your body, doing the same for himself afterwards. He smiled at you, that smile that made you feel at home, safe, here with him.

He was about to lean in to press his lips to yours, when he turned away from you, making you frown. But the reason made you laugh, a smirk on your lips. He coughed, a sneeze following afterwards.

‘’That was just a coincidence.’’ He mumbled, but soon after coughed again, making you raise your eyebrow, the smirk still plastered on your face.

‘’You won’t get sick, huh?’’ You smirked, arms crossed in front of your chest as you let out a laugh, watching your boyfriend cough another time.

He looked at you, his towel moving over his face, a groan escaping his lips. He removed the towel, looking at you as he stepped closer, pulling you in his arms.

‘’At least this means I get to kiss you now, because you’ve already infected me.’’ And with that, he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you softly while the candles slowly dimmed. They lasted for at least four evenings.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagines #racinggirl writes #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #hungary gp 2022 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic

[skippyv20]

What if...this happened in 2022 while filming for Netflix?

Hi Skippy & Friends-Pilgrim here mumbling away about how the reading kids’ books event is NOT adding up. First, I went to the hospital 2024 website and really searched for any mention of her being there. They have a Make March Matter for volunteers to help fundraise with this year’s dates of events on a calendar. Zip there. Wednesdays are called Brightly Storytime-Stories Under the Stars which she had. But she was there on Thursday the 21st oohing as they dimmed the lights showing the starry sky on the ceiling.Second, she is wearing an outfit from 2022 that is rather tight on her stomach section i.e. the zipper not closing or a torn seam. They are all wearing face masks which were mandatory for hospitals at that time. Here is the mask mandate now for LA as of today: “UPDATED: February 2, 2024, at 6:54 p.m. With COVID-19 numbers again declining, Los Angeles County health officials on Friday, Feb. 2, rescinded a mask-wearing requirement for staff and visitors at licensed health care facilities Feb 2, 2024.” Three: the ILBW has lost a lot of weight this past year which would be hard to pack on in a few weeks. She is almost skeletal now as the Austin SXSW and birthday cake show in Uvalde photos clearly show. Sooooo-what do you think? This could have happened while filming and didn’t make the Netflix series because that black mask was covering her face, making it hard to read out loud as she tugged on it. The Literally Healing program at the hospital is a great one but here is a funny little note about accepting book donations even if they are brand new, for tax write offs….the following are direct quotes from their site. “Due to the diverse nature of our pediatric hospital, all new titles are reviewed before being accepted. Because we have such a small team, we have made the difficult decision that we can no longer accept independently published recreational books.” (Non-recreational books are medical explanations about children’s illnesses for kids. I would guess her book The Bench was declined.)“If you would like to volunteer with Literally Healing you will first need to apply through CHLA’s Volunteer Resources. Once you have met all of their requirements, they will assist you with applying to volunteer with Literally Healing.” I have not seen one photo of her on their website but there are other famous female models and actresses shown. Hmmmmm….masks around sick kids does make total sense but the way the other adults looked on the peripheral also wearing masks seemed like the early Covid days to me. Is the hospital’s PR staff forced to not make any counters to the actual date this may have happened?

Thank you so much dear Pilgrim!  Things to ponder….😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 20)

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 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 12,880

Summary: An invitation takes Horacio and Javier back to Medellín, a city that has changed as much as they have since they were last in it. Amongst the celebrations, can they find a way to reconcile the old with the new?

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Emotional smut, religious themes, discussions of canon-typical violence and past trauma, grief, healing, allusions to period-typical prejudices, smoking, drinking, swearing.

Notes: So, this chapter took on a life of its own and ended up a lot bigger than it was originally supposed to be, oops lol. The initial idea was for this and chapter 21 to be chapter 20, but, as you can see, it didn't quite work out like that 😂

The majority of chapter 21 is done, I just need to finish it off but life (and covid...again) have been getting in the way lately.

After that, I just have chapter 22 and a short epilogue to do, then fin. So, I promise we are very nearly there now! Ideally, I'd like it all done by the end of autumn, but that might not be possible...let's see how it goes.

Thank you once again to anyone still reading and waiting for updates, your patience is greatly appreciated (as always, please feel free to drop me a line if you’d like to, I love hearing from you!)❤️

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested (and there's quite a few new points for this one, as I ended up doing a lot of research lol).

Chapter 20: Something Old, Something New

Dappled light filtered through the Venetian blinds, splintering across the polished wooden furnishings and along the plush carpeted floor, bathing the hotel room in tints of gold. No traces remained of yesterday’s rain after a warm start to the morning, and the forecast miraculously looked promising for the hours ahead.

Horacio stood facing a floor-length mirror, his fingers wrestling with his jacket and a Cattleya orchid buttonhole until he tutted and gave up. It was the final addition to his outfit: a three-piece mid-grey suit, a pale olive green dress shirt, a bottle green tie and dark brown shoes.

“Come here.” Javier abandoned fastening his burgundy tie, letting it hang untied and loose around his neck. Instead, he took the buttonhole from Horacio and delicately pinned the flower on his left lapel. It matched the one already placed on his navy blue three-piece, which he had teamed with a rose-pink dress shirt and black shoes.

“Thanks. It’s been a long time since I’ve worn one of these. I’m out of practice.” The last wedding Horacio attended had been a friend of Juliana’s, and for some reason, attaching a flower to his jacket was trickier than his CNP lapel pins.

“At least the last time wasn’t your own wedding…which you never actually made it to.”

“Fair point.”

Javier smoothed down Horacio’s lapels, slow caresses on either side, chestnut lost in charcoal as he took all of him in. “Beautiful.”

“Likewise.” Horacio’s fingers slid up to Javier’s tie and worked their magic, managing a knot neater than Javier could ever make. He positioned and repositioned it at the collar until it was symmetrical.

“Satisfied?”

“Hmm, not quite.” He took hold of the length of the tie, pulling Javier down a couple of inches to his height, fresh mint and aftershave hitting their senses as they settled into it, careful not to squash the flowers at their breast.

Javier breathed hard against Horacio’s mouth. “I take it we haven’t got time for—”

“Absolutely not.” Although Horacio was panting as he re-straightened Javier’s tie, the sight of each other in formal wear a distracting novelty. “We’re meeting Steve downstairs in 5 minutes.”

“Shame. I miss Madrid already.”

“Our bed will still be there when we get back.”

“Who said anything about a bed?”

“Come on, we can’t be late,” Horacio reiterated with great reluctance, avoiding the look he knew Javier was giving him. “You ready?”

Javier took a deep breath and picked up the invitation from the nearby nightstand, his eyes scanning over the details one last time.

Juana Marisol Vargas Restrepo

Y

Felipe Gabriel Trujillo Rojas

Con la bendición de sus familias, te invitan a celebrar su boda

(With the blessing of their families, they invite you to celebrate their wedding)

El sábado, 21 de enero de 1995

(Saturday 21st January, 1995)

A las tres de la tarde

(At 3 in the afternoon)

Iglesia del Señor de las Misericordias, Manrique

(Church of the Lord of the Mercies, Manrique)

Recepción a seguir en el Jardín Botánico de Medellín

(Reception to follow at the Botanical Garden of Medellín)

“I think so. Of all the churches in Medellín, though.”

Horacio let out a wry huff to match Javier’s. “I know. The bride’s choice, apparently. Plus, it’s close by for the reception.”

Javier hummed, his eyes still glued to the invitation as if the antidote to the discomfort simmering in the pit of his stomach was hidden between the lines.

“You okay?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine. It was always gonna be like this. Wasn’t it? Being back here.”

“I don’t think there’s a way around it. But at least it’s a celebration this time.” Horacio placed a gentle kiss on Javier’s forehead. “And it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

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After locating Steve, they shared a taxi to the church, where they met Connie and Olivia on account of Olivia being in a particularly fussy mood.

“I think it’s the travelling and being out of routine. She was up early this morning. So, of course, she’s tired now.” Connie gestured towards Olivia, fast asleep in her dad’s arms, before hugging Javier and Horacio.

“You look stunning, love the dress,” Javier said, noticing he owned a shirt in the same shade of turquoise.

“Aw thank you, you all look so handsome!” Connie stood back to admire them then leaned in to kiss Steve. “And not hungover?” she added with a raised brow, rubbing away the smudge of lipstick left behind on his cheek. “I take it I need to thank Horacio again for keeping you in one piece?”

It took Horacio a second to get what Connie was referring to. But then he remembered a paralytic pair of DEA agents slumped in the back of his car, alongside practically carrying Javier to his bedroom, removing his outer layers and plying him with water, then lying him on his side with a pillow behind his back.

Horacio had been heading for the door when a slurred noise over his shoulder stopped him. One that sounded suspiciously like “Stay.” He couldn’t prove it or ask for clarification. But nor could he leave. So, he stayed until he was reassured Javier was safe and sleeping soundly. Then he tiptoed home, relieved the next day to find Javier had no recollection of any of it.

“I don’t know about that,” Horacio said in the here and now. “We were all on our best behaviour for today.”

“Yeah, Murphy needs his beauty sleep these days. Isn’t that right?” Javier threw a wink in Steve’s direction and wondered if Connie’s choice of words meant what he thought they did.

“Well, some of us actually have to go to work, Peña,” Steve shot back with a self-satisfied curl of the lips.

Connie playfully slapped Steve on the shoulder. “Ignore him, he’s just jealous.”

“Can’t even deny it.”

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Guests began to file up the stone steps into the church, the Murphys following once they had roused Olivia awake, with Javier and Horacio hanging back at the top of the stairs.

Their arms rested over the balcony wall as they surveyed the road beneath. There was no CNP vehicle parked up this time, but instead, a hive of activity with guests being dropped off and a space reserved for the bride’s imminent arrival.

“It feels like a fucking lifetime ago, doesn’t it?”

“It was.”

“I, er, never saw her again. Helena, I mean. I secured her a visa – figured it was the least I could do after everything. But she took her kid and ran before I could give it to her. Her neighbour said she was staying with her sister in Peru, but…who knows?”

Javier wasn’t sure if she even had a sister, but he always hoped it was the truth. He always hoped she and her family were safe and that she found the strength to put what happened behind her. But of course, he had no fucking clue if these were comforting lies he’d told himself over the years. It wasn’t love, whatever they had. Far from it. He knew that back then let alone now. But for a short while, they cared in their own way, and as much as their circumstances and jobs allowed them to.

“Probably for the best. It wouldn’t have been safe here.”

“No, I made sure of that.” Javier’s hand dug harshly into the jagged stone, leaving dents in his skin until the subtle and discreet touch of a finger made contact with his own, pulling him out of his spiralling self-flagellation. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t plan on bringing all this up. Especially not today.”

“It’s okay. And it’s not like we ever really talked about it at the time.”

It had been a sore point for Horacio, not that he understood why back then. Of course, he knew Helena wasn’t the first or the last, but he could see whatever they had, however short-lived, went beyond the mere transactional. He’d never seen Javier so worried for an informant, and as it turned out, he had every reason to be. Then, she stopped being a threat and became yet another victim.

“Funnily enough, no. You just took it out on Steve instead.”

A knowing look eased the tension in an instant.

“Could you blame me?”

“Absolutely not. Especially when he was encroaching on your territory.”

Javier couldn’t resist a wink, which caused a muttered “Fuck you” followed by their shoulders shaking in unison.

Once calm was restored, Horacio turned to face the church, the wall bearing the brunt of his weight. “Looking back now, though, I don’t think I should’ve been so surprised by what you did for me in Cartagena and Tolú.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I did the same for you that night here in Medellín.”

Javier joined Horacio; both now stood side by side, their gaze meeting in an acknowledgement of the rich history that existed between them that no words could ever fully convey.

And with the scattered remnants of their past now confined to distant memories they could at last put behind them, they made their way into the church. 

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A waterfall of roses, carnations and orchids tied together with matching ribbons cascaded a rainbow of purple, yellow and white down the rows of pews. The flowers were supplied by the mother of the groom, who conveniently was a florist by profession. Every August, Medellín burst into bloom for Feria de las Flores, so if anyone was going to be in charge of the arrangements, it was her.

Candles lit a path from the aisle to the altar, reminding Horacio not only of Día de las Velitas but of his and Javier’s recreation of the festival during their first Christmas in Laredo. He was about to take a seat when he caught a flash of green dress uniform in the wings of the church and a pair of dark eyes picking him out of the congregation.

He excused himself to the sacristy at the side of the altar.

Trujillo peered out to the pews as his hands alternated between fidgeting with the knot of his tie and his cufflinks. “Is she here yet?”

“Not yet.” Horacio straightened Trujillo’s tie knot. “But it’s still early.”

“Yeah.” Trujillo nodded and took a deep breath.

“She’ll be here before you know it. So relax. I think we’ve been through worse.” Horacio’s lips stayed neutral for an impressively long spell until he caved.

“My hand was steady as a rock on that rooftop. But today?” Trujillo held out his hand to show the hint of a tremor.

“You ended something once and for all on that rooftop. Something that needed ending…for your father, Alfredo and Sebastián. For you. For Colombia. But today is the start of your future.”

“I always thought they would have been here for this one day. So, thank you. For being here instead. For coming back...after everything. For all those early morning drills and target practice. And for the free drinks.”

They laughed at the fact Horacio was a man of his word and hadn’t let Trujillo buy a single drink since arriving here.

“It’s the least I could do. And if you ever need anything, Felipe, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Likewise…Horacio. That goes for Javier, too.”

Their silence was an acknowledgement that they had just shared an ending and a beginning of their own, no longer comrades in arms or superior and subordinate, but something different again, something equal.

“I thought my ears were burning,” came a voice from the doorway.

“Great way to kill the moment, Peñita.”

“Sorry. I wanted to wish you luck. And offer you some Dutch Courage, if you're interested?” Javier produced a hip flask from behind his back. “A present from Search Bloc,” was his answer to the quizzical looks he was met with.

“Just a taste, then. I don’t want Juana thinking I’m drunk.” Trujillo took a restrained swig. “Any last-minute advice?” he asked Javier, passing him the flask.

“You want marriage advice from me? Er, don’t do a runner before she gets here?”

“Good one, brother.”

“He did warn you,” Horacio added, shooting Javier a pointed look.

“True. Although,” Trujillo lowered his voice and glanced at the doorway, “neither of you might be married, but…you’ve been through a lot together. And I think it’s made you stronger. So, you must be doing something right.”

A wordless nod and one last swig for good measure were exchanged.

Javier and Horacio were unsure if it was the alcohol or something else causing the heat to rise in their cheeks. But either way, they were in quiet agreement with Trujillo’s assessment.

It wasn’t long before the words “She’s here!” were whispered with barely contained glee from beyond the door, and it was time to take their places.

The ceremony, even the drier elements, passed quicker than most weddings Javier and Horacio had been to. It was the first one Javier had attended since…well, not even his own now he thought about it because he never made it to the church. He never saw Lorraine’s dress either, as, unsurprisingly, she had changed out of it by the time he was forced to explain himself. Not that Javier really could explain at the time. But then, it was much easier to understand something was wrong once he knew what was right.

Between Felipe’s pristine uniform and Juana’s mantilla veil, memories of Horacio's Mamá wearing a strikingly similar black veil to his Papá’s funeral came to mind. But once upon a time, they had also stood at an altar like this with their shared life ahead of them, and even though the injustice of it being cut short would always linger, on this occasion, Horacio chose to cherish the fact it existed in the first place.

Furtive glances travelled between him and Javier as they bowed their heads to pray during the candle ceremony and for the exchange of rings and arras coins. It was a silent confirmation that whilst these rituals weren’t an option for them in the eyes of the law or church, their unofficial versions were no less significant. 

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They moved on to the reception at Jardín Botánico de Medellín in the evening, a place Horacio hadn’t been to since his youth. The wedding meal was to be served under a spectacular orchid-shaped wooden canopy in the centre of the gardens. Tables dressed in white linen were decorated with flower arrangements to match those at the church, and favours included coffee beans and orchid seeds.

The newlyweds sat at the top table surrounded by close family and their padrinos and madrinas, the echoes of war still loud and everlasting given the notable absences. Javier, Horacio, Steve, Connie and Olivia sat on the next one, along with some familiar Search Bloc faces and Carlos Holguín staff.

At the adjacent table were Martínez Senior and Junior. Horacio and Martínez Senior had only crossed paths at occasional ceremonies and dinners, even though their fathers worked more closely in the past. As the war on drugs kicked in, it became apparent the two men had polar opposite approaches to their jobs. And whilst Horacio made Escobar his mission, Martínez took a different path, specialising in FARC operations in the jungle instead. Until their paths converged, that was.

“Do you think he knows?” Javier muttered over the rim of his champagne flute after Martínez Senior’s eyes briefly fell on them.

“About us? Why would he?” Horacio replied into the palm of his hand as he scratched his upper lip.

“I dunno. He knew about everything else. And he must have questions.”

“I’m sure he does. But do you think he’ll even want to speak to us? I already know he hates my guts.”

“He might be pleasantly surprised you’re not dead. You never know.”

Their hushed conversation was thankfully drowned out by Olivia interrogating Connie about everything from the guests’ outfits to the flower arrangements and when the food was coming, whilst Steve caught up with Jacoby.

The tables were soon full of plates and dishes bearing carne asada, lechona, patacones, arepas, tamales, milhojas, concadas, cuajada con melao, fruit salads and the centre piece Torta Negra Colombiana, decorated with flowers to match the colour scheme.

The cutting of the Torta Negra followed before the space was re-arranged, guests spilling out into the surrounding gardens, refreshing their drinks at the various pop-up bars or walking amongst the flowers and trees.

By dark, a dancefloor was unveiled in the centre of the canopy with a band playing cumbia, vallenato, merengue, bambuco, salsa and beyond.

Once the bride had thrown her bouquet, the single male guests gathered to place a shoe beneath her dress. Javier managed to escape the ritual in favour of sitting back and watching from the sidelines. But at the risk of inviting prying questions from his former colleagues if he did the same, Horacio reluctantly added his shoe to the pile. Typically, his was chosen by Juana, which, as per tradition, meant he would be next to marry.

From several feet away, Horacio could see Javier’s suggestive eyebrow and overt smirk, and they were even more brazen close up when Horacio re-joined him.

“Should we pick out rings, or…?”

An eyeroll was the only answer Javier was ever going to get to that question, and it came right on cue.

“Because, er,” Javier continued regardless, clearing his throat and casually glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot, “seeing you in your shirt stays this morning got me thinking how fucking good you’d look in a wedding garter.”

As Horacio was hit with a barrage of mental images and a dry mouth, a large cheer erupted as the next tradition got underway. This time, all male guests – not just the single ones – were rounded up to remove their belts, the idea being that the man with the longest belt was the winner. Of what exactly, Horacio was never sure when this had played out at past Colombian weddings he’d been to.

He stood opposite Javier as they fumbled with buckles, unhooking the leather straps from their belt loops and pulling them off in one swift motion. Their eyes remained fixed on each other from start to finish, an act fuelled by Javier’s last words.

The sound of cheering pulled them back with reluctance to the proceedings, and even though their belts were probably slightly longer than they used to be, they weren’t declared the winners. 

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As the drinks flowed, so did the dancing, regardless of whether the paired-up guests knew each other or whether they could actually dance.

Javier’s next partner was a familiar face, though, who had at least taken a few dance classes to get to know some locals when first arriving in Colombia.

“Is Steve with Olivia?” he asked, grateful for a slower number so he could catch his breath and talk.

“Oh, no, she’s with the Jacobys. She’s made friends with their daughter, Chloe - they’re around the same age.” Connie twirled underneath Javier’s outstretched arm and back around again. “Steve is conveniently helping Horacio with the next round of drinks. He always did have hips as stiff as a board. I had to practically drag him up for our first dance.”

“That…doesn’t surprise me.”

“And what about Horacio?” Connie whispered into Javier’s shoulder as their feet slid across the floor in time with the music. “Does he need to loosen his hips, or is he a dark horse?”

“You should know a man never dances and tells. But…” Javier spun Connie on her heel again, pulling her close so his head was near her ear this time. “I can assure you there’s nothing wrong with his hips.”

“That doesn’t surprise me either. When did you say you were heading to Manizales?”

“In a couple of days.” Javier swallowed hard now the subject had been raised.

“How’s he holding up?”

“Okay. We’ve not really talked about it since Madrid. Figured we’d deal with it after the wedding, but -” Javier scoffed, cutting himself off mid-sentence.

“Now it’s nearly here,” Connie finished for him.

“Exactly. But I guess we couldn’t hide in Spain forever.” As tempting as it was some days.

They somehow made it to the other side of the dancefloor, narrowly avoiding multiple couples before escaping back to their table once the song was over.

“How’re you finding being back again?” Connie asked.

“Weird.”

“Yeah. Definitely weird at first.”

Their shared laughter came like a sigh of relief, a release of tension now they had spoken the truth out loud.

“But different.”

“It’s not like last time, right?” There was uncertainty in her unblinking eyes, a plea not only for reassurance but for honesty as well.

“Trujillo said anyone left from the cartel with half a brain cell skipped town or went underground before Pablo’s body was cold. They’ve been tracking down anyone dumb enough to have stuck around. So, no. It’s not like last time. I promise.”

His tone was soft but he looked Connie in the eye until she nodded, needing the conviction as much as she did.

“I know I never visited Madrid like I said I would – blame your ex-employer for that, by the way – but for what it’s worth, I don’t think Medellín’s the only one who’s different now. So, whatever happens, Javi…”

“I know.”

His hand found its way to hers on the table and gently squeezed. An acceptance that there was no denying traces of the past, as they had already discovered, but a translucent overlay had been placed on top of it now. Whether the two could co-exist in the long run, nobody yet knew, but at least it was finally the chance of a future for them and Medellín. 

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Horacio picked one of the quieter bars, reeling off a list of drinks to the bartender and perching on a stool while he waited for his order.

“Thought you might need a hand.”

Before Horacio could respond, Steve had already sat on the adjacent stool, his back to the bar to accommodate his long legs.

“You sure you’re not just avoiding the dancefloor, Agent Murphy?” There was a hint of a mock interrogative tone to his voice as he turned sideways to face Steve.

Steve held his hands up in surrender. “You got me there. Although…” He dipped into the inside pocket of his black suit jacket and pulled out a couple of cigars. “Courtesy of the groom, if you’re interested?”

Horacio broke into a laugh. “He paid up, then.”

“Damn right.” Steve held one of the cigars closer to Horacio, tempting him despite the conflicted look Horacio was giving it. “I won’t tell Javi if you don’t tell Con.”

Horacio sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He put the cigar between his lips and took the lighter from Steve, hovering the flame near the foot until it took.

Steve did the same, a woody haze soon encircling them.

The bartender appeared with a trayful of drinks and once he was gone again, Horacio lifted a beer bottle and slid it across to Steve. “I never got a chance to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“Stechner.”

A scowl stormed across Steve’s pupils, and he took a quick hard swig from his beer bottle, placing it back on the table with a little more force than intended. “It was my fuckin’ pleasure. You should’ve seen his face. Covered in blood and tears in his eyes when my hand squeezed his throat.”

He swapped his beer for his cigar, relishing in that sweet memory as a ring of smoke hovered above his head like a misplaced halo.

Every now and then, Steve still surprised Horacio. Because occasionally, Horacio caught glimpses of the turbulence that raged beneath the surface. It was a clumsier, more unrefined version than he was accustomed to, but he recognised and understood it nonetheless.

“Not sure I’d have been able to stop squeezing,” Horacio confessed.

“It was touch and go for a minute. But rumour has it, the new Country Attaché, Alana Cortés, and Messina were roommates all the way through their Academy days. And for a few years after…before Cortés took an assignment in Mexico out of the blue. But now she’s back.” Steve toasted the air with his beer bottle. “So good luck to our old friend, Bill, trying to pull her strings.”

Horacio raised his glass to meet Steve’s bottle, although there was an ulterior motive to leaning forward a fraction. “I take it you’ve heard nothing else about the photos?” His words were delivered towards the floor in case of the minutest likelihood anyone around them was the world’s best lip reader.

“Not a thing. But I’d handle it if something did happen; you have my word. Cali’s beyond my remit, but I’d put good money on Stechner’s attention being there now he can’t use us anymore.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Oh, and you were right, too.”

“About what?”

“Javi tryin' to shut me out.”

“Well, thanks for not letting him.”

They bowed their heads and returned to their cigars, a surprisingly comfortable silence sitting between them.

“How was he in Madrid?” Steve asked in the end.

“Good, mostly. There were bad days, obviously. But he sleeps better now.”

“He’s not the only one.”

“No. I think there’s a lot of that going around.”

“It’s weird though, right?”

“What’s that?”

“Being back. Like it was all just some fuckin’ dream. Like it wasn’t really me on that rooftop. Like everyone knew it should’ve been you in that photo instead.”

Horacio might not have been there for the final showdown, but he'd seen enough newspapers and bulletins to know that photo well. The one where Escobar’s limp body was held up to the camera like a trophy, now the hunt was over.

“Yeah, well, I made sure it wasn’t me, didn’t I?” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ve had to make my peace with it. And so should you.”

“I played out that moment so many times. Thought about all the ways we’d catch him. Over and over, I let it run through my head. But I wasn’t expecting him to look so…pathetic. Like any other son of a bitch criminal runnin’ scared when his time’s up.”

“Because that’s all he was. But it was real. And he’s gone. No matter what happens, they can’t take that away from us.”

“But now what?”

“Now, we live our lives. We don’t forget, but we move on.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Just as they toasted their drinks, they were rumbled.

“Might’ve known this is where you’d be hiding. Found them!” Javier called over his shoulder.

Trujillo followed behind Javier; his police uniform now exchanged for a lightweight guayabera. “Anything to avoid a dancefloor. Blondie, are those my cigars?”

“I think you’ll find they’re mine now, Major. I might have a couple of spares lying around, though.” Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out more like he was performing a magic trick.

Trujillo rubbed his hands together. “Now you’re talking.” 

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Once Steve had braved the canopy to pass Connie her drink, the four men retreated to a deserted part of the gardens where pine tables and chairs with canvas covering them were dotted amongst the trees. White lights hung across the branches like fireflies and lanterns lined the decked walkways, the party and dancing reduced to a murmur in the distance.

The quartet sat around one of the pine tables, the first time they had been together like this since the old days back at Carlos Holguín.

“Can you believe we’re finally here?” Trujillo asked, savouring the spicy scent of his cigar as it combined with the fresh floral notes of the forest.

“At your wedding? Barely.”

Trujillo rolled his eyes at Javier’s teasing and shook his head. “You can tick comedian off your list of career options.”

Steve sucked in air through his teeth at their war of words. “See what I had to put up with.”

“Says the white boy who needed me to be his fucking translator 24/7.”

A collective braying sound travelled around the table this time before it morphed into laughter and Steve making use of any Spanish swear word he could think of.

“But in all seriousness...no, not really,” Javier replied in earnest after they returned to their cigars.

“Sometimes when I wake up, it takes me a minute to remember he’s not still lurking out there somewhere.”

“But he’s not.” Horacio’s eyes glowed with steely determination, needing to put a line under this once and for all. “You made sure of that. You gave Medellín a future. And now it’s time to start yours.” He raised his glass to the centre of the table. “To Juana and Felipe.”

“To Juana and Felipe!” Javier and Steve echoed as their drinks clinked with Horacio’s.

“And to Colombia,” Felipe added.

“To Colombia!”

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Once the cigars were stubbed out, Trujillo and Horacio were pulled away for a Search Bloc reunion, leaving Javier and Steve to their drinks.

“I was telling Carrillo about Cortés earlier.”

“How did you find out about her, by the way? You never said on the phone.”

“Just some good old fashioned slightly off-the-record detective work, that’s all.”

“You covered your tracks, though, right? Because they’ll know it was you who gave her my intel. Even if they can’t prove it.”

“’Course. Although it wouldn’t take a fuckin’ genius to figure that out. Same with Stechner’s busted face. Don’t think anyone bought it was your handiwork.”

“To be fair, there’s a critical shortage of geniuses in the DEA. Present company included, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Steve retaliated by raising his middle finger in response to Javier’s trademark wink. “But most people hate Stechner as much as we do, so no one came asking. Never saw him around the school again after that, although I’m sure he must’ve been prowlin' about somewhere.”

“More than likely. So, er…no one’s mentioned the photos either?”

“No. And like I told Carrillo, even if they did, I’d handle it, Javi. I promise. There’s more shit on Stechner out there, I fuckin’ know it. Messina was getting too close, remember. I don’t think I’ll have to dig deeper, but look at it as an insurance policy.”

“Makes sense. And thanks, Steve. For Stechner. For the intel. For reassuring Horacio, apparently.”

Javier laughed at the thought of them engaged in something resembling a heart-to-heart. But if truth be told, it brought warmth to his chest to realise the two men could be considered friends-of-sorts these days. Not that he dared tell them that.

Steve gave a lazy salute with one hand whilst the other took a swig of his drink. “Don’t expect that to become a habit, by the way.”

And there it was, right on cue, just as Javier anticipated. “Oh, no, of course not.”

“It was a one-time-only Wedding Special kinda deal.”

“Right. Exactly.”

Javier took a long sip of his drink to hide the smirk threatening to explode into an undiplomatic laugh if he wasn’t careful.

“Any idea when you’re moving back to the States?” Steve asked, seemingly oblivious to Javier’s impressive restraint.

“Not really. It depends on Horacio’s visa. We haven’t decided on the best route yet. I’d forgotten how much fucking paperwork’s involved.”

It was no wonder Javier held such disdain for bureaucracy when the wrong piece of paper was the difference between crossing a border and not. When someone’s life was reduced down to a list of rigid criteria without much consideration for the sacrifice and hardship it often took to get to that point in the first place. It was why he had done his best to help informants get an American visa wherever possible, even if it meant bending rules until they snapped.

He knew Horacio had more options than most – more than his grandparents’ generation did – and they had been lucky with their past visas. But he tried not to think about the fact their future would be in the hands of an officious government administrator. One most likely not prepared to bend any rules in the slightest.

“You got that right. Don’t s’pose he’s thought about law enforcement?”

Javier shot Steve a sharp look. “Hilarious.”

“I thought so. And what about you? Any ideas what’s next?”

“Me? Fuck, I dunno, man. Guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“You’ll both figure it out, y’know.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. You always do. You’re like me and Con. We’ve had our rough patches, several of ‘em while we were here – and a few more since we left, come to think of it – but somehow, we get through it. Same as you and Horacio.”

“You drunk, Murphy?”

Steve contemplated that as though he hadn’t considered the possibility until now despite the array of empty glasses covering the table. “Fuck, I think I am.” He let out a loud snigger before hushing himself. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“My lips are sealed.” For all of Javier’s stoicism, he stood no chance, and it wasn’t long before they were giggling like schoolboys.

“About the rough patches, though…” Steve said once they had calmed down. “Any tips?”

“Someone once told me it’s okay to not always be in the same boat even if you’re in the same storm. Sometimes, you just need your own boat. But as long as you’re trying to sail in the same direction...and want to be in the same boat as much as possible, you can get through it.”

“Huh. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but that actually makes sense. Who do I need to thank?”

Javier smiled, almost able to smell fresh churros if he closed his eyes hard enough. “Someone a lot older and wiser than us.”

“Figures. And my point still stands, by the way.”

“What point’s that exactly?”

“You might not have worked out the finer details yet, but…” Steve gestured for Javier to move forward as though he was about to share highly classified intel. “The worst’s over now. We don’t forget, but we move on.” He nodded sagely before dropping his voice to little more than an alcohol-infused rumble. “This is your happy ending, Javi. Go live it.”

As they returned to the party, Steve alternating between leaning against Javier and patting him enthusiastically on the back whilst attempting something vaguely resembling Spanish, there was no doubt in Javier’s mind that Steve was wasted and probably had been for most of their conversation.

But when it came to the sentiment behind Steve’s garbled words, something told Javier that didn’t matter.

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Maybe it was Horacio’s age or the quiet life he had become accustomed to, but he couldn’t keep up with Search Bloc’s drinking. The aguardiente shots were in full flow when he left them to it, doubling back towards where he had left Javier and Steve.

He made it past the bustle of the bar and round the corner towards a small rock garden with a walkway to the trees lying beyond.

“So, the rumours were true, then.”

Force of habit made Horacio momentarily reach for where his gun holster used to be as he spun around to face the voice from the shadows of a wooden bench.

“Depends which ones you’re talking about,” he replied in a measured tone now he knew the source of the voice. “You can’t believe everything you hear.”

“Well, let’s put it this way...you certainly look well for a dead man, Colonel Carrillo.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

“Not at all. Vengeance isn’t my style.”

“Nor mine these days.”

“So I’ve heard. Congratulations on your retirement. I’d say that beats jail, wouldn’t you?”

Horacio scoffed as he sat on the opposite end of the bench, his brow flexing at such an expertly delivered blow. “I guess I deserved that.”

“I think we both know what a man deserves and what a man gets are rarely the same thing.”

“True. But you’ll always be Colonel Martínez: the man who stopped Escobar.”

“Perhaps so. But was death not the easier way out?”

“Easier than what? Vengeance?”

“Justice.” Martínez gave Horacio a long look from his end of the bench. “Gaviria was the one who wanted him dead. It’s no wonder you two got along so well.”

“I did my duty. As Gaviria did his and you did yours. We played the hands we were dealt.”

“Yes, and he dealt mine well when he signed my son up to Search Bloc before offering me your job.”

Realisation slowly spread across Horacio’s face, and without meaning to, he gave Martínez a look tinged with pity. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I kept him alive. He was transferred to a new intel unit instead…where he intercepted radio transmissions from Pablo the day we caught him.”

A curve of a smile formed on Horacio’s lips. “Funny how it works out sometimes.”

Horacio was reminded of his own double-edged sword of a path to becoming leader of Search Bloc. The journey began with Javier and a briefcase full of cash being deposited in the lap of General Jaramillo, forcing the General’s greedy hand to appoint Horacio as head of the anti-drug squad and make him a Colonel. A job that was already a poisoned chalice on account of his predecessor winding up dead at the hands of the cartel.

Javier using gringo money to buy Horacio a promotion had been a bone of contention between them back then. Too many heated discussions under the influence led to an argument where “Everybody works for somebody" and “Don’t ever mistake me for one of your whores again” were the last words to hang between them in a heavy fog of smoke, whiskey and undefinable tension for several weeks. During which time, Horacio was even more ruthless than usual. And as if to prove a point, Javier practically became a temporary resident at his favourite brothel.

The hypocrisy of the situation had sat uneasily under Horacio’s skin when he had always taken such a hard line on bribery from the narcos. Was this really any different?

But conversely, if he hadn’t been allowed to build his own force of incorruptible men, he would never have led the operation on Gacha. He would never have ended up in those quarters in Tolú with Javier. On his cot with Javier underneath him.

“Yes, it is. I did tell Gaviria I would bring Escobar into custody unless he resisted. But of course, he resisted.”

“Then maybe Escobar didn’t care about justice as much as you think he did. And there’s nothing you could have done about that.”

“Aren’t we supposed to care about justice, though? And I don’t mean the vigilante kind you and Los Pepes were so fond of administering.”

“You sound like the gringos I used to work with.” A surge of nostalgia rose in Horacio’s chest, and he’d have been surprised if it wasn’t showing on his face. Although, of course, it was one gringo in particular he had in mind.

“If you think I wanted Escobar to be extradited to an American jail, you’re mistaken. He was our problem to deal with, not theirs.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t give a fuck about a corrupt form of justice. How would that have been better than what I did? So many judges, politicians and journalists were bought or killed alongside our men. He wanted Colombia to bleed, and he’d have done whatever it took to make sure he didn’t remain in a cell. You, Trujillo, Search Bloc…you cauterised the wound that no one else could.”

“For now. I think we both know this was something of a Pyrrhic victory. And not the end.”

“Two things we can agree on.”

Reluctant smiles crossed their faces despite everything.

“I think our fathers managed a few more.”

“So I was told at Papá’s wake. How is your father doing these days?”

“He’s fine. Retired now but relieved the hunt is over. I think he hated watching from the sidelines.”

“I know the feeling.”

The distant drumbeat of the live band carried on the gentle breeze through the garden, whispering like ghosts through the plants and trees surrounding them.

“I may not have agreed with your methods, but I was very sorry about your father.”

“Me too. And for what it’s worth, I think my father would’ve been sorry about my methods as well.”

“I cannot imagine how losing a parent so young would have changed my path. And to be clear, this isn't to be taken as an excuse, but by your own ethos, you played the cards you were dealt, did you not?”

Horacio laughed. “Something like that.”

“I must admit, you were a tough act to follow.”

“Was I?”

“Yes. The level of respect you commanded from your men wasn’t easy to replicate.”

“You still got invited here, though.”

“True. And I accepted the invite despite my suspicions the groom was assisting Agent Peña before his departure.”

Horacio’s jaw ticked in anticipation of the treacherous tightrope he would need to tread here. He and Javier were out, done, without their badges or weapons. But Trujillo wasn’t.

“Suspicions or evidence?” he settled on in the end.

“Suspicions based on what I witnessed. But I think there’s irrefutable evidence his and Peña’s unfaltering loyalty rested with you rather than with me.”

“Trujillo also fired a bullet through Escobar’s skull.”

“Yes. An act I don’t judge him for in the circumstances. And rest assured, I have no intention of reporting my suspicions to anyone. Major Trujillo’s motives aren’t the ones still eluding me.”

Horacio swallowed down the dread burning the back of his throat like bile that was in danger of choking him if he didn’t get rid of it quickly. “What are you talking about?”

“You never struck me as a man afraid of death. And whilst I can understand the ambush might have made some reconsider their career choice, I wouldn’t have put you down as one of them.”

“Do you really think there was anything left for me in Search Bloc? My superiors already had your name on their lips to replace me long before I was shot.”

“In Search Bloc, perhaps not. But I’m sure the CNP would have allowed you back once the dust settled. They forgave you for far worse than being shot.”

Horacio huffed sarcastically despite how unwise it was to get sucked into the conversation. “I can assure you my decision was never about them. And it’s nothing you didn’t do for your son.”

That seemed to be the winning blow as Martínez nodded in concession. “True. We can’t afford to be afraid of death in our profession. But when it comes to the people we love, I must confess…I can’t apply the same rule.”

Horacio gripped the edge of the bench and focused intently on his feet, fearing even glancing in Martínez’s direction would fill in the few remaining blanks. He managed a minimal grunting noise in his throat that he hoped sounded like agreement.

“However, many times, I’ve asked myself why a man such as Peña would have destroyed his career so recklessly, and so close to the finish line. But I’ve been unable to settle on an answer.”

It wasn’t quite the change of subject Horacio hoped for. “Well, for starters,” he began, raising his gaze from his shoes at last, not out of a newly acquired sense of bravery but because he knew he needed to be convincing. “I wouldn’t read too much into Judy Moncada’s Get Out Of Jail Free Card.”

“Oh, I didn’t. I know Peña’s role was only a small part of something a lot bigger than he, you or I could control. But I have to wonder what leverage they had over him to make a deal with the devil impossible to refuse.”

Horacio had no intention of engaging further, but it wasn’t the first time he had wondered about the gap he left that was hastily – and bloodily – filled by Los Pepes. Would they even have been necessary if he'd never left? Or would they have tried their luck in approaching him with the offer of an allegiance? It caused his stomach to swoop if he focused too much on the people involved in that hypothetical scenario. But then he thought of Javier, and he knew with every fibre of his being if their roles had been reversed, he would have done the same.

“I’m sure every man has his reasons if the price is high enough.”

Martínez cocked his head in Horacio’s direction with a creased brow, holding eye contact for a fraction longer than Horacio was comfortable with. “Quite.”

Drunken laughter followed by a sniggered hush abruptly cut through the loud silence. The two Colonels – past and present – turned around to be met with the sight of Javier trying to control the swaying bulk of limbs belonging to his former partner.

Javier spotted them first and halted in his tracks, hoping the dim lighting hid the flash of horror on his face at the sight of two parallel universes colliding in front of him on a garden bench.

Steve apparently was oblivious to what they had stumbled across as he carried on along the path back to the party with just about enough of his faculties remaining to reunite with Connie.

“Everything alright?” Javier asked, fingers twitching on his right hand as he looked from one side of the bench to the other, then back again.

“Yeah, fine.” But Horacio’s eyes found Javier’s in the flecks of light from the lanterns hanging amongst the tree branches and told a more complicated story. “We were just comparing notes.”

“Oh yeah? Any interesting findings?” Javier’s eyes stayed fixed on Horacio’s or the floor for the most part, only risking a brief glance or two at Martínez.

“A few,” Martínez chipped in as he studied them more carefully than they were likely aware of. “Some that I will never be able to excuse or forgive, but I think I understand one thing more clearly now.”

“What’s that?” Horacio asked.

“I always believed there were two types of people in this world: those who rely on hope and those who rely on faith. But now, I see some rely on both.”

Before Javier or Horacio could formulate a response, Martínez announced it was time to locate his son as they had early shifts in the morning.

Their farewell involved little more than a handshake, a stern nod and an exchange of “Good luck.” But it was a necessary formality for all parties. A mark of mutual respect that wasn’t quite an offered or accepted olive branch but at least a truce. And that was enough. 

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

“You okay?” Javier asked once Martínez had disappeared from view.

“Yeah. Well, I guess it was inevitable at some point.”

“Didn’t expect it to go like that, though. What the fuck did he mean? Just before he left. Does he know?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t think he’s telling anyone anything either way.”

“Agreed. We don’t have to stay if you’d rather -”

“No.” Horacio was quiet for a second, craning his ear towards the sound of the band behind the large cluster of trees they had sat amongst earlier. “I’ve got a better idea.”

He looked around them in all directions, twice, to be on the safe side, then took Javier by the hand and escorted him along one of the walkways. However, they branched off in a different direction than before, Horacio surprising himself with childhood memories of the layout of this place that he assumed were lost to the sands of time.

“What are -?”

“You’ll see.”

The path spiralled in circles, leaving them surrounded by greenery until they arrived at a softly lit water fountain in the centre. They were somehow closer to the sound of the music, even though they had moved further away from the party.

As they stilled, Javier looked expectantly at Horacio, who was already removing his jacket, placing it carefully on the ground and rolling up his shirt sleeves.

Javier did the same, still not understanding what this was all about, but the look in Horacio’s eye made him want to find out.

Horacio stepped closer, moonlight casting reflections from the fountain, illuminating the spark of hunger glinting in his pupils. “I’ve spent all night watching you dance with half the wedding party.” One hand dropped to Javier’s waist and tugged him forward into his hold. “It’s my turn now.”

Javier’s breath hitched as Horacio pressed them together, his hands automatically falling to Horacio’s hips to steady himself. “You only had to ask,” he said, the smoky timbre of his voice vibrating against Horacio’s ear.

“I thought line-dancing was more your thing.”

Javier nipped at Horacio’s earlobe in revenge. “That was when I was a kid. And you weren’t complaining about my dancing skills on our anniversary.”

Horacio let out an agreeable sigh as he chased the scrape of Javier’s teeth. “No, I wasn’t. But as nice as that was, we were hardly moving.”

“True. And if you must know, the Texas Two-Step got me several phone numbers back in the day. Lorraine’s being one of them. She was more into it than me, but it was actually kinda fun…for a while anyway.”

Memories of Saturday nights spent at old Texan dance halls and barn dances suddenly filled Javier’s mind. The faded aroma of leather and iron rust lingered alongside stale Lone Star beer, cigarette smoke and overpowering perfume as he led his partner across the worn wooden floor in time to the likes of Laura Canales and Hank Locklin.

His gaze would travel around the room – which was easier during a do-si-do – sometimes to make sure they didn’t collide with other dancers, sometimes to give anyone who caught his eye a discreet once-over. If he happened to hone in on a male dancer's tight-fitted jeans and fluid hip movements, it could easily be disguised as admiration for his female partner.

Not that it ever led to any encounters. Not there anyway; it wasn’t anonymous enough. But it was still a temptation. And yet another instance of feeling caught between two worlds: to have the tangible heat and beauty of a woman in his arms whilst fantasising about a mysterious, alluring man from afar, knowing he could never do the same with him in front of an audience.

“Juliana taught me to dance too. Or tried to, at least. She competed a lot when she was younger.”

Horacio smiled at the unexpected memory of them practising in her parents' kitchen, her father watching them like a hawk, glaring every time Horacio put a foot wrong or his hands fell lower than her waist despite the fact she was a grown woman. And his hands had already done much more than that whenever they had the place to themselves. His relationship with her father was the polar opposite of his relationship with Chucho, now he thought about it.

It wasn’t Juliana’s fault, though. And when they were alone on a crowded dancefloor, before his job and life came between them, before he understood the strange, borderline resentment twisting in his chest if he clocked male dancers with a particular look or build, they were content.

One of their favourite clubs ran a cumbia contest on the first Saturday of each month. The prize was tokenistic, free drinks on their next visit, but that didn’t matter on the occasions they came first when Juliana would tell her parents the good news at church the following day. The look on her father’s face as Horacio tried and failed to stifle a smug expression at her side would always be priceless.

“You ever danced any cumbia?” he asked Javier now.

“Some. At parties, weddings, quinceañeras…but that’s going back before I came to Colombia.” There might have been a few hazy nights in clubs and bars over here as well, but dancing hadn’t been his modus operandi in those days.

“So, you’ve never done it with a Colombian?”

Javier’s brow quirked of its own accord, and his tongue swept deliberately across his top lip. “No, er, you’d be my first.”

Horacio kept an impassive expression with his mouth, but his darkening pupils gave him away. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

“You know that won’t be necessary.”

Somewhere in the middle of their flirtation, they loosened their embrace, one hand linked in the space between them as their feet stepped back and forth, then side to side, their movements mirroring one another. Quick, quick, slow, quick, quick, slow.

Without warning, Horacio pulled Javier across his body and under their arms, spinning him around with force, then bringing them face-to-face again.

“Lucho Bermúdez was one of the great musical legends here in Colombia. Still is after his death last year. Mamá and my Abuelas listened to him all the time whenever the whole family got together. Do you know the name of this song?”

Horacio waited until their noses were almost touching to ask as their feet subconsciously glided over the paving stones beneath them.

Javier merely shook his head, their legs intermittently brushing together as their hips popped to the beat before he was spun once, twice, thrice until he was dizzy and out of breath.

“Tolú,” Horacio whispered as they reconverged, his lips skimming Javier’s and his eyes flickering shut as flashes of them on his cot in their shadowed quarters flooded into view.

Javier teased his bottom lip over Horacio’s, moustache swiping back and forth until they shuddered, a different first time as fresh as if it happened yesterday.

But they never stopped dancing. Horacio looped through their arms until he had his back to Javier, one hand each gripped at Horacio’s waist. They shimmied sideways, their free hands entwined by their shoulders to guide them back and forth, switching their hold each time they travelled across the floor. Another spin, another brush of legs, or an electric look making it clear which memories of Tolú they were thinking of.

The song ended, leaving only their charged breaths and the evening breeze rustling through the maze of trees protecting them from prying eyes.

Then, the band struck up again, so they kept dancing. Their bodies and minds synchronised as they paid homage to the country that had brought them together in the unlikeliest circumstances, Horacio interjecting with memories from childhood whenever old classics were played. He was even forced to swear on the cross between their chests that he had nothing to do with the band playing Noches de Cartagena of all songs.

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

By the time Javier prised his eyes open, unwelcome rays were already bursting through any gap in the blinds they could find. He craned his neck above Horacio’s still form, his watch on the nightstand reading 8:45am; ouch.

He’d survived on minimal sleep plenty of times, but he couldn’t remember getting home from a wedding past 5:00am before. If he was honest, they were tempted to call it a night once their private party for two ended. But it would have been rude to miss out on the dancers – professional this time – costumes and confetti of La Hora Loca. When in Colombia and all that.

They still had a few hours before they were to reconvene with the wedding party for the ultimate hangover cure of bandeja paisa, so Javier’s nose and moustache brushed over the nape of Horacio’s neck, arms slotting around him from behind.

A serene purr soon followed as Horacio stirred and leaned into Javier’s touch.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

Javier’s lips now worked their way to the side of Horacio’s neck, concentrating on a sweet spot below his ear.

“Liar.” Although Horacio’s whole body arched and his head tilted to give Javier what he wanted.

“Surprised I was awake before you, to be honest.”

“It took me a while to get to sleep…all of two and a bit hours ago.” Horacio winced into the pillow at how little rest he’d actually had.

“Everything okay?”

“Hmm, yeah.” He raised his head and shifted so he was lying face-to-face with Javier. “I was just thinking about my family.”

“Makes sense.”

“When we arrived, we were so focused on the wedding. I didn’t let myself think about what comes next. But now…”

“I said the same to Connie last night. But…maybe we’re ready to rip off the band-aid.”

“Maybe. Part of me just wanted to get it out of the way when I was lying awake. But you nodded off in record time.”

“I think you wore me out.”

“But you enjoyed it, though?”

“It was perfect.” Javier closed the space between them, seeking out Horacio’s lips until he was met with a hum of agreement.

Javier pushed his luck, ducking below Horacio’s ear and descending over the column of his throat. Testing the waters to see if Horacio wanted the distraction Javier was more than willing to provide. “And how’s this?”

“Pretty fucking perfect too.”

Their kisses started languorous due to their lack of sleep, building to something fervid as Horacio nipped at Javier’s pout, catching it between his teeth until it was plump and swollen.

Javier retaliated, coaxing Horacio’s tongue towards his with expert flicks, tasting faint traces of last night’s cigars, until he captured it and sucked, long and thorough.

Limbs tangled between bedsheets soon became Javier whimpering facedown into a pillow whilst Horacio dipped and devoured, creating a slick glide between Javier’s thighs, the relief visceral when lining up and pushing forwards.

Horacio experimented with bracing yet measured rotations as he mouthed along the expanse of Javier’s trapezius, lost in a sea of broad muscle. He’d always loved watching the fabric of Javier’s shirts stretch and strain at his upper back, an eye-catching contrast to the narrow hips his jeans hugged oh so tightly. And now, the shirt wasn’t required, and he was the one setting Javier’s skin alight, triggering a visible response to every touch or movement like putty in Horacio’s hands.

Javier loved being vindicated that there was nothing wrong with Horacio’s hips whatsoever. Of being denied any forewarning of what came next from biting down on a pillow with his eyes screwed shut, the only way he could avoid prematurely spilling all over the sheets beneath him. It was a close call several times, calming breaths required to refocus, a request for Horacio to stop or slow down needed before it was game over.

Knowing he reduced Javier to begging because it was too much put Horacio on thin ice, and any more pleas like that would have finished him off. But the throbbing of his cock was in sync with his pulse, loud and insistent, and keeping still wasn’t having the same effect anymore. The salty taste on his tongue as it swiped over the nape of Javier’s neck where the silver chain still remained was an aphrodisiac he couldn’t ignore.

“Fuck me,” he rasped against Javier’s ear.

Without hesitation, Javier flipped onto his back, the loss of contact causing an ache of frustration. But it was replaced by straddling, groping and grinding, propelling Horacio up the mattress until his thighs were encased around Javier’s head.

Now it was Javier’s turn to feast, spreading Horacio with vigour, darting, licking, kissing, leaving trails of saliva, moaning as his cock was engulfed and fingers danced over his balls.

The scratch of nails scored Horacio’s ass as he worked Javier over, lapping with greed, hollowing his cheeks, bobbing his head and switching up the strength of suction, putting everything they had learnt in Madrid into practice.

They pulled off before it was too late, grabbing the bottle of lube and lying supine across the mattress with Javier underneath Horacio.

Javier’s feet were planted flat on the bed, giving him enough purchase to buck upwards with force, one hand holding on at the waist whilst the other roamed freely across the plains of Horacio’s chest, kneading fistfuls of pectoral muscles and skimming over his rib cage down to his thighs.

Javier caressed each thigh in turn, circling and massaging with his thumb, marvelling at how the span of his hand only reached a fraction of the way around them. “I meant what I said last night. About how good a garter would look on you.” His glutes clenched as he propelled upwards for extra emphasis.

The seed was sewn in Javier’s head as he watched Horacio dress for the wedding. It wasn’t the first time Horacio had worn what was a standard part of his dress uniform. A trick of the trade amongst police and military to avoid sanctions for a creased shirt. But it was the first time Javier had seen the shirt stays sitting snugly around Horacio’s muscular thighs. It was the first time he wanted to slip his fingers underneath the neat straps, maybe twang them or pull them tighter with his teeth whilst on his knees. Or as Horacio rode him with his back to Javier, one side of his shirt unclipped, underwear and a single garter tantalisingly removed, the other kept secured in place.

A guttural groan rumbled through Horacio’s chest like he had read Javier’s mind. “What kind?” he breathed out, surprised by his eagerness to indulge Javier and how fast his hand shot to his cock.

Javier choked back expletives at Horacio’s question and the sight above him. “I was thinking something leather…with a buckle…to match your belt and boots.” Each punishing thrust broke up his speech with strained grunts as he spread Horacio’s thighs wider, manoeuvring him up and down at the same pace. “Maybe one on your arm too….and a harness…to go with your hat…cowboy.”

“Fuck,” Horacio panted into Javier’s mouth at an awkward angle on the pillow, stroking himself roughly. Sparks of arousal multiplied with each wrist jerk as he pictured the look Javier gave him during the belt contest. Imagined him buckling the firm yet supple material until it bound tightly against Horacio’s sensitive skin like armour only they were allowed to put on or take off.

Javier’s hand replaced Horacio’s as he let his cock be held in stasis, basking in the heat and comfort of their joined form. His fingers journeyed back to Horacio’s mouth, tracing over it until Horacio parted his lips for Javier to feed two, then three digits inside.

Horacio sucked down, tasting himself as well as Javier as he swirled and licked, swallowing past the knuckles; faster and greedier. But it wasn’t enough.

Maybe it was the false pretences kept up the previous day and night combined with what lay ahead, but Javier seemed too far away. He always did when they were in public, but even more so when wearing a three-piece suit at a romantic wedding that wasn’t and couldn’t be theirs. It was why they still relished the time they could spend alone. And why they had needed Madrid. Because all those hidden looks and blink-and-miss, ‘accidental’ unseen brushes of hands could only be suppressed for so long. Last night, it had spilt out as inadvertent foreplay. But now, they needed more.

“Turn around,” Horacio said after releasing Javier’s glistening fingers.

They lay heart-to-heart, Horacio on his back, legs wrapped around Javier. Javier’s tongue skimmed across the breadth of Horacio’s chest, taking his sweet time working over each nipple, the scrape of teeth causing Horacio to lift upwards until Javier plunged him back down again.

And Horacio didn’t resist, his mind and body in free flight as the weight of Javier anchored him, allowed him to feel each and every nerve vibrate, his arms sliding above his head in complete surrender, offering them for Javier to claim.

Javier plotted a course across any patch of bare skin he could reach, licking up and down Horacio’s underarms, inhaling the musky scent of sweat before switching to his triceps, then biceps. On the left, he mouthed his way along the muscles; any marks left intentional reassurances and promises for their present and future, their bodies mapped stories of their lives.

Along the right, he eased up when he came to the faded scar at the mid-point of Horacio’s shoulder, placing tender butterfly kisses over the blemished skin, blinking away visions of a bullet tearing it open and taking care not to let his teeth make unwanted contact with their past.

He gradually dragged his mouth away until their gaze met, the rise and fall of Horacio’s chest compelling Javier to lay his head on it, soothed by the steady beat and the massage at his scalp.

Satisfied, Javier lifted Horacio’s arms back above them, sweeping over the peaks and troughs of fortified shoulders, forearms and wrists until they slotted through fingers that clamped around his like a vice.

Javier rocked in a pounding rhythm, Horacio’s legs rising higher, pushing Javier deeper as compensation for being unable to reach out and touch. Horacio honed in on the lifeline at his fingertips, the stimulation against his prostate and the safety of Javier’s forehead, all thoughts about the upcoming days put on hold.

But Javier could sense Horacio needed more again. It was written all over the beautiful agony of his face and the silent request in his eyes.

So, hands unlocked to let fingernails brand skin, tug at damp strands of hair and graze over stubble, the metallic ice of the cross contrasting with the fire burning in the core of their chests as they danced more synchronised steps only they knew.

A change in angle caused a slow build of release to skirt the edges of Horacio’s limbs, toes curling as jolts of pleasure transformed into overflowing currents. The fuse was lit, a chain reaction of heat stoking a fire in the pit of his abdomen on the cusp of burning him from the inside out.

Another snap of hips, his own hand jerking his cock in a frenzy, a rush of white noise, shuddering, shaking breaths and a release of molten bliss across their stomachs.

The ripples kept coming as every sound, quiver or fluttering around Javier’s cock pushed him closer to the edge. With one final thrust, he finished inside Horacio, a desperate growl tearing from his throat, the brunt absorbed by Horacio’s left shoulder.

They didn’t move, preferring spent velvet kisses, the world now in slow motion.

Javier concentrated on Horacio’s nose and forehead, pouring everything into each gesture of affection until he whispered, “I love you. And it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“I love you too. And I know.”

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

They dozed a little too long after wearing each other out for the second time in 24 hours, so Horacio went ahead first, leaving Javier to shower and join him afterwards. But it made little difference to the proceedings as plenty of other guests were slow off the mark, too.

Tables were laid out around the nearby restaurant owned by Juana’s parents, leftover flower arrangements used as decorations because it would have been a shame to waste them. It was a much smaller space than the botanical gardens, but not all guests from the night before were expected to attend. A fact that brought immense relief to Horacio because he wouldn’t have to make conversation with a certain Colonel again.

Whilst waiting for Javier, he worked his way through his belated first coffee of the day and took a bite out of an arepa.

“Is there room for two more?”

Horacio raised his head to find Connie with Olivia in tow. “Of course.”

Connie did her best to encourage Olivia out of her hiding place behind her legs. “Come on, sweetie. Do you want something to eat?”

Olivia peeped out from behind Connie, eyeing Horacio with suspicion.

“Don’t mind her; she’s just a little shy and overtired this morning.”

“Some arepas are going spare if that helps?” Horacio kept his voice low and gentle, peering around Connie until he drew a curious expression out of Olivia.

Olivia looked up at her mother, who nodded for reassurance.

“Go ahead.”

Olivia left her hiding place and took the chair between Horacio and Connie, mumbling a thank you as she ate.

“Help yourself, too.”

“Oh, no, thanks. I’ll wait for Steve, whose painkillers should hopefully be kicking in about now. I don’t feel too bad, but I left him groaning into his pillow. Were you and Javi in the same state this morning?”

Horacio fought down a smirk with every strength of his being. “Something like that.”

“I knew it was a smart move to travel to Cartagena tomorrow instead.”

“Where are you staying?”

“A resort just off La Boquilla beach. Steve and I would’ve preferred something quieter, but there’s more to keep kids busy where we’re at.”

“I don’t know the area well, but it is a nice coast up there. With plenty more arepas.” Horacio directed his last sentence at Olivia, who had already made a start on her second.

She slowed her chewing before smiling at Horacio, who had remembered a trick or two from the younger days of dealing with his nieces and nephews. If all else failed, food usually won them round.

“I’ve only seen Medellín and Bogotá, so it’ll be nice to get out of the big cities for a change.”

Horacio cleared his throat and took a long sip of his drink. “Yeah, it will.”

Connie leaned across the table to retrieve a freshly replenished pot of coffee and poured into her cup. “It’s a shame we won’t get a chance to see Manizales this time. But we’ll be thinking about it anyway.”

Horacio was startled out of his own coffee and met Connie’s eye, unsure how to respond before settling on a silent nod of thanks. “Maybe next time if all goes well.”

“I think we’d like that. Breaks like this are few and far between now we’re both back working.”

“How’s Miami these days?”

“Busy now we’re juggling our schedules with Liv’s. And we still have bad days sometimes, of course.” Connie gave Horacio a pointed look when talking of bad days, choosing her words carefully with Olivia in earshot. “But things are better now we’ve got more routine again…more stability.”

“Sounds familiar. I find being in the same country helps, too,” Horacio added with a wry smile.

“Exactly. Now we’re out the other side.”

“Yeah.”

They shared a knowing look, not wanting to say too much in front of Olivia about everything they had been through. It was hard to believe how much had happened and changed in the last few years, and it was clear everyone was still processing it all.

“How’s your arm doing now?” Connie asked in a hurry, keeping the mood light for the sake of her daughter. 

“It’s as good as new. Well, almost. The ranch kept me moving. I think I built back more muscle than I had before. And I kept up strengthening exercises in Madrid.”

“Wow, you’re doing better than most of my patients. I never had to tell you off once.”

“I don’t follow many orders, but it wasn’t worth my arm – or life – to ignore yours. So, thank you.”

“Try telling that to Steve...or this one here. But seriously, I’m just glad I could help. Especially when I hear you might be making ranch life more permanent?” There was a conspiratorial tone to her question. A question she clearly knew the answer to already but was having fun asking regardless.

“That’s the plan, hopefully. Madrid was always supposed to be temporary.”

“But it helped?”

“Yeah. It was exactly what we needed. And maybe you’ll find Cartagena is what you need.”

“I think we will.”

There was that look again, one that spoke volumes about their shared understanding, even if their experiences were different.

Horacio’s gaze drifted up to Javier, who still wore his aviators until he flopped down at their table, already reaching for a cup and the coffee pot.

“Morning.”

“Afternoon, Javi,” Connie greeted with a wink.

“Very funny. But looks like I still beat your husband.”

“Don’t suppose you saw him on your way over?”

“Nope. I’m sure he’ll appear once the food does.”

Javier was right, of course. A worse-for-wear Steve arrived as the bandeja paisa was brought to the tables before they tucked into huge hot trays of beans, rice, chicharrón, chorizo, carne en polvo, plantain, avocado, fried egg and more arepas.

They ate in comfortable silence, letting the food work its magic and fill them up for the rest of the day, highlights from the reception still fresh in everyone’s minds despite their current weariness.

Before long, it was time to wave the newlyweds off on their honeymoon to Bequia. Their goodbyes were short and sweet, knowing they would be keeping in touch long after the celebrations were over, especially when Trujillo’s parting words were, “I’ll be waiting for my ranch invitation in the post.”

And even through the loud crowd of well-wishers, he managed to hear the mumbled “Cheeky fucker” echoed back at him in unison.

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

Javier and Horacio stayed to finish their coffees once the beeps of the wedding car disappeared into the distance, the majority of the party now dispersed and leaving them sat alone.

“Pops rang just before I left the hotel. Think he wanted to check in before…well, y’know.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. The only bit of news he asked me to pass on was about him being offered first refusal on Ciro’s and Malena’s place.”

The fact the Ortegas were selling up wasn’t a surprise. Javier and Horacio had spent last Christmas in Laredo again, where Ciro and Malena had brought around a fresh batch of sopaipillas over the festive period. In the preceding months, they had gone back and forth on moving, but by December, they were set on putting the farm on the market in the New Year.

Horacio nodded slowly, his brow drawn tight across his forehead as he considered this new development carefully. “Makes sense.”

“Do you think he’ll seriously consider it at his age?”

“I think he has to. We buy the majority of our feed grain from them. Selling to an outsider could risk price hikes and shortages, or the new owners might want to supply to someone else. It’d be a big gamble. But if your father bought them out, then kept their staff on, used their expertise, maybe even increased the livestock with some of the extra land…I think it could be workable.”

Horacio was aware he was being watched and glanced up to face his audience. “What?”

“Nothing.” Although Javier knew his face told another story. “I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak such fluent cowboy before.”

“I’m not a—”

“Not yet,” Javier finished for him. “And I never said it was a bad thing.”

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

After every funeral, an additional service was held exclusively for CNP officers to attend. Whilst gravestones were located across Colombia in countless cemeteries, a modest wooden cross bearing a name was planted for each loss in the consecrated soil around the corner from Carlos Holguín.

Horacio had paid his respects here more times than he wished to remember, but he still wasn’t prepared for how vast the sea of the dead had become since his last visit. It was a silent expanse covering the grass for as far as the eye could see, the sole sign of life the weeds and wildflowers shooting up between the rows he walked through.

He recognised some names and could clearly picture their ashen-faced relatives as though it was yesterday when he stood on their doorsteps, hat in hand and solemn expression fixed in place. Others were indistinguishable from the rest. An indicator of the extent of the collateral damage and how long he had been away now.

As he stood in his civilian clothes, he felt strangely underdressed. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to wear his usual ranch attire since being back in Colombia and had returned to the beige khakis and polo shirts that felt like an unofficial uniform of their own. One that allowed him to get away with wholly unofficial business in the past, but today wasn’t about him. Today was about them. All of them. No matter who they were.

Perhaps against his better judgement, with the help of Trujillo, he had located the graves of Diana Turbay and Carolina García Velásquez. He didn't allow himself to remember Carolina’s name at the time, even though she had been plastered all over the papers alongside mysterious references to an “unidentified officer of the National Police” leading the raid on La Dispensaria. A story eerily repeated with Diana’s death.

He didn’t linger at their gravesides. But on those occasions, just like this one, Horacio bowed his head, recited a silent prayer and made the sign of the cross.

“Lo siento,” were the only words spoken before he retreated from the churchyard.

He had done all he could here for now, and it was time to…not forget but to move on. It was time to face his fears and look to the future. It was time to let old ghosts rest once and for all.

#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

[bioethicists]

hey i'd really love it if you could say more about biopolitics? i hadn't heard that before and it seems fantastic.

😅 u guys humor me too much- these type of asks are like catnip for me i am rolling around on the floor

biopolitics was originally conceptualized by foucault in a series of lectures- the very simple explanation of it (which foucault scholars probably would feel doesn't do it justice) is that the state has a vested interest in creating citizens who are "healthy" (as defined by the state usually by military/work readiness) + reproducing more "healthy" citizens (in this way it often intersects with outright eugenics). people often refer to it as the politics of "making live + letting die" (necropolitics by achille mbembé is an incredible analysis of this second part, focused on colonial power's interest in determining who dies)

what this means is that, at its core, the state engages in programs to improve the "health" of the population not out of altruism but because it needs a supply of work-ready, combat-ready, reproduction-ready individuals. the concept of "health" is tied up in one's ability to perform labor in service of the state, so much so that disorder or the severity of disorder becomes defined by this ability. public health efforts center not on decreasing suffering but on restoring the population to a condition in which they can once again perform labor (including reproductive labor) + serve the greater needs of the state.

my friend cora at umadison did an excellent presentation on how the u.s evokes within "anti-obesity" campaigns a concern that "obesity" is a threat to military readiness. messaging concerning family planning/abortion are often engaged by the state to coerce certain ppl into having children + others NOT to, based on the idea of the Type of Citizen they want. on a deeper level, this haunts us from birth- were there programs to try to improve your mother's pregnancy? public school health surveys? scoliosis tests? presidential fitness tests? irt COVID-19, whose death was seen as acceptable + whose death was seen as worth preventing? was prioritizing a 'return to work ' an out-of-the-blue approach or a natural conclusion of a public health system structured around producing + maintaining a steady supply of labor? none of this is asserting that state public health intervention is inherently BAD, just that its core motivations are not altruistic but rather political (so it has no interest in expanding into a public health model where fitness to work/serve/birth is NOT seen as the marker of health).

a very cynical read of the opioid epidemic would be that the state is so heavily involved now because it is finally impacting individuals that they want to Make Live. harm reduction is reluctantly being adopted (thanks to the tireless work of incredible activists!) but only if it can fit into the framework of Making Them Live Until They Can Become Sober. sobriety is the unspoken end goal not because it reduces suffering but because it allows for workers. the truly liberatory logic of harm reduction, which focuses on autonomy + safety + reducing suffering, is antithetical to the motivations of a state which openly despises those who don't 'produce' proportionately to what they receive.

my interest is in reimagining medicine + the body + disability + suffering outside of this biopolitical framework by acknowledging that our very definitions of all of these things have been engraved in the public imagination with labor production in mind. i'm not interested in trying to create new state programs that are 'untouched' by biopolitics because that's impossible + i can still extract tangible benefits from it (for example, i got all my covid vaccines early + for free bcuz my labor was important enough for the state to invest in my life). the idea is to engage with these programs clear-eyed + willing to look at who we Make Live + who we Let Die. most importantly, we can find what lies outside it all + envision new ways of living

#anti psychiatry

[brickcentral]

🤩 ARTIST SPOTLIGHT: sergi_h2opolo7 Hello everyone! It's time to direct the spotlight toward our community members, and today we will get to know better sergi_h2opolo7!

"Hey there! I'm Sergio Paredes, but you can know me as sergi_h2opolo7 on instagram.

When I was a kid, I absolutely adored Playmobil toys, and now I'm an amateur collector. With all the extra time at home during the COVID-19 pandemic, I started taking photos of my collection.

As I got more into toyphotography, I began researching and learning new techniques to make my photos even better. What had started as mere entertainment now occupies much of my free time!

About a year ago, my curiosity in the LEGO world was awakened when two minifigures arrived to my hands which immediately caught my attention. These two minifigs are the faun from series 15 and the forest elf from series 22. I don't know exactly why, but the two figures seem to be in harmony with nature. Their expressions, their design make them cute and adorable.

It sparked my attentions rapidly and started to think about the beautiful photos that could be taken with them. This led me to begin my adventure with LEGO photography.

My collection of minifigures has been growing up gradually since then and with each photo, my fascination in LEGO world as well. My collection mainly consists of minifigures with some loose accessories. So, I usually photograph minifigures to share a specific story or feeling in each photo.

I don't have a defined theme, but if I had to choose one, I would choose the medieval theme. I love medieval age and his historical movies with epic battles and LEGO Castle reference and minifigures are perfect for it.

Most of my photos are taken at home because I don't have as much free time as I'd like and I have all my accessories close at hand to put on, take off, etc... But I also really like outdoor photography.

The main equipment I use is my Canon EOS 2000d, different lamps to play with light, atmosphere aerosol and nano spray aerosol for outdoor photos, and also for indoor photos I usually use the screen of the PC for backgrounds and different floor designs.

Basically, I start the process with a general idea, but as I set up the stage, it changes depending on the environment, light, the accessories that I have at that moment, etc. Once I have everything ready, I start shooting and adapting the scene according to what the photo looks like."

Thank you for accepting our invitation and let the community knows you better!

If you want some insights on the exclusive picture and for a better view of the others, head to our blog at https://brickentral.net/.

- @theaphol, Community Outreach Manager

#lego #lego photography #brickcentral #toy photography #afol #legophotography #toyphotography #minifigures #brickcentral member #brickcentral artist spotlight #artist spotlight

[inukag-archive]

Hi, do you have some recommendations for the "inukag as cat/dog parents" or maybe one of them as adoptive parents of a stray animal? Thank you so much! 😊😊

Hey @chit-a-to ! We love seeing our dog-boy as a cat-mom (or dog, or horse) so thank you for this ask! We hope you enjoy this list of predominantly -- but not exclusively-- modern AU's from across the ratings spectrum, so please do check individual fics for additional tags.

Dumplin' by MooMiscief (E)

She was officially settled working from home, she owned her own house and the time had come for her to get a puppy. Until a gruff volunteer gave her sass, until said volunteer gave her his number, and until she realized maybe was interested in him for more than dog tips.

--

Cat Person by @arisukingdom (G)

Inuyasha is a cat person, and every cat person needs to meet his first cat at some point in life. So here it goes a little Inu finding out what a cat is and trying to bring a cat to a dog house.

--

The Seven Sins of Buyo (G) by @ruddcatha

It is Inuyasha Sins Week, September 20-26, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, Greed, Pride, Gluttony, Lust. How does Buyo, Kagome's faithful cat, represent each of the sins?

--

Begin Again by @coccinellesroses (T)

There is beauty in starting over when you get to let go of what happened and who you were in the past.

Kagome has moved into a new apartment, and she looks forward to a brighter future where she leaves the baggage of a toxic relationship behind. Rooming with her best cat Buyo, Kagome starts to experience the fun of living alone. Although, she didn't count on her neighbor being a cute half-demon.

She also didn't expect to develop a crush on him either.

--

How To Train Your Dog Demon by @anxietyaardvark (M)

Izayoi is tired of Inuyasha's excuses. All he does is work; despite his protests, she knows he's lonely. She decides to get him a companion to get him out of the house, and when she finds a no-nonsense dog trainer with great reviews, ulterior motives take over.

--

The Cat Came Back by @fawn-eyed-girl (T)

When Kagome and Shippō adopt a stray cat from a village, Inuyasha is incensed. Cats (who aren’t Kirara, of course) just cause trouble; don’t they know that?

And then, Kagome goes home to study for an exam, and Inuyasha is left with a cat he doesn’t want, but who has suddenly decided he is the most interesting person in all of Musashi.

--

Little By Little by LittleKnownArtist (E)

Post Manga. After the three year separation, Inuyasha and Kagome are finally together as a couple. There will be little bumps in the road along the way, but its all part of the learning experience. And they plan to learn everything about and every inch of the other-little by little.

--

Must Love Dogs by WakingPriestess (NR)

Taking her dog to the park was a sure fire way to get a dose of serotonin. But the sight of a scary looking dog being lonely and unable to make new friends broke Kagome's heart. Thankfully she had the sweetest pup in the world who was also a little intimidating and also looking for new friends. The owner being drop dead gorgeous was just a bonus.

--

Chai. by @inusunflower (E)

In which Kagome and Inuyasha fight over the custody of their shared corgi, Chai.

--

Ramen by @writemydaydreams (T)

Three years is a long time to be separated from the person you love. Inuyasha had to find a way to cope with Kagome's absence and the possibility he may never see her again. Sometimes support comes from the last place you expect it.

--

Quarantine (series) by @superpixie42 (E)

Starting a new relationship can be hard when you have to host all your dates via webchat because of Covid-19 quarantine regulations.

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Light Me A Lantern by @inuyashasforest (T)

Picking up the pieces after being separated for three years isn't as easy as it may seem. A quiet, burning kind of chaos sweeps through Feudal Japan, and it's going to take a lot more than a fairy tale ending to put things back together. They defeated a man who would become the Devil. Can they survive a man who would become a God?

--

You Rescued Me by @keizfanfiction (E)

Maybe it was fate that he decided to take the back way home that night, but whatever the reason, Inuyasha was grateful for arriving just in the nick of time to rescue a waif of a woman who had clearly been through hell. He never would have imagined that she would end up rescuing him, too.

--

Max by KittyKatz (T)

It was business as usual until Kagome's family adopts her father's canine partner. A short 3-chapter blurb about a military working dog joining ranks with the inu-gang. [T - Inuyasha's potty mouth]

--

Guard Dog by @keizfanfiction (T)

Kagome moves into her very first house and decides to introduce herself to her new neighbor with the scrumptious gift of Oreos. She had no idea she'd be leaving as a new dog owner.

--

Hermit's Haven by @britonell (NR)

In which one dog leads to a hermit failing to be a hermit…

--

Feel free to add your own recs in the comments or reblogs!

Check our Masterlist of previous lists to see which topics we've covered. 

Send us an ask (here).

#inukag archive #inukag fanfic #inuyasha fanfiction #pet parents #fic rec