#Places To Retire Mexico

[yabakuboi]

thinking about oldman yaoi steddie like—

trucker eddie picks up drifter steve at a pit stop some where in the middle of cornfield ohio. they've both had pretty rough lives, but eddie's a softy and when a pretty guy (despite his ragged appearance) flashes him a smile and says "hey handsome, got room for one more?" eddie lets him up in the passenger seat

a hundred miles later, eddie loses him and the last $10 out of his wallet, but that's okay. to be expected really and steve was pleasant company for a while. he doesn't think he'll ever see steve again.

except that he does, nearly half a year later, and eddie recognizes steve where he's sitting outside a truck stop in new mexico. steve obviously recognizes him too by the way he's carefully not looking at eddie. still, eddie buys two sandwiches and drops one in steve's lap before he heads over to the well-graffied picnic table outside the gas station. it takes a moment, but steve follows, sits across from him.

"i don't want any trouble," he says, warily placing his sandwich in the middle of the table, like an offering if eddie wants to take it back.

"no trouble to be had," eddie tells him, and slides it right back.

they eat in silence after that, and when steve's done, eddie asks if he needs a ride anywhere.

he drops steve off near atlanta this time, sighing when steve refuses to take any money but leaving him with a number to Eddie's trailer if he ever needs it. eddie doesn't take much time off, so he's rarely there, but steve takes the little paper from eddie almost reverently all the same. if he calls, he never leaves a message, and he never calls when eddie's home.

so they don't see each other for maybe a year this time, until one day eddie's passing through tennessee and the roads are wet and icy and there's steve again outside another truck stop. he looks at eddie with wide eyes, like a man that hasn't seen a lot of luck in his life and whispers, "i never thought i'd see you again."

and eddie asks "it's almost christmas time. you might as well come on home with me."

"i don't want to cause trouble with your family."

"no family to trouble," eddie tells him seriously.

so he brings steve home, and they eat frozen pizza for christmas dinner and drink cheap beer for new years. eddie gets called out on the road again, but he leaves steve at home. he calls the first night and steve's still there. and the next night, and the next. and when he's next in hawkins, steve is waiting for him on the porch and eddie thinks he must be mirroring eddie's shock, the two of them surprised that steve's still there.

steve's still there though, 5 years, 10 years, 20 years later, long after eddie's retired from trucking. they got a little RV now and a dog and they roam far and wide, but always together

[ghelgheli]

The epoch of hysteria between 1656 and 1658 found its catalyst in the spontaneous, detailed testimony of someone who I solely re-member here with her chosen name, la Estanpa. Once a linda niña (pretty girl), the now seventy-year-old mestiza found herself apprehended by court magistrates for suspected sodomy in 1656. After initially denying the accusations, an elderly and fatigued Estanpa relented, admitting to having dressed ‘like a woman’ since she was seven and committed the nefarious sin for ‘more than forty years’. Encapsulated within her testimony and larger trial are glimmers of an underground trans feminine world in seventeenth-century Mexico City, of which Estanpa served as a pillar. Coinciding with Catholic feast days, Estanpa and her friends organised parties at changing secret locations, ranging from the secluded countryside to individuals’ homes in the neighbourhoods of San Juan de la Penitencia or San Pablo. Facilitated by trans feminine hostesses, these lively parties consisted of illicit dancing, singing, drinking chocolate and of course inevitable quarrelling over guapos (what they affectionately called the men who loved them), with whom they would eventually retire into rooms for sex. For elders like Estanpa, these parties were also an opportunity to recall ‘the deeds and the conquests of their far-away youth, their lost beauty, and old-time pleasures’.In each other’s company, this cohort referred to one another as niñas (girls), each taking on feminine names following the same convention as ‘la Estanpa’, a title said to have originated from a ‘very graceful lady’. What is certain is that the trans feminine figure held a distinct and explicitly threatening place in the Spanish colonial imaginary. Within underground Mexican subculture, these individuals shared myriad cultural signifiers – in naming practices, celebration of holidays and their habitation in the same neighbourhoods and sometimes homes – that suggest they also established deep-rooted community networks. Perhaps most importantly, despite coordinated and unrelenting legal suppression, trans feminine people would continue to exist and resist across colonial New Spain.

Jamey Jesperson, Trans Misogyny in the Colonial Archive: Re-membering Trans Feminine Life and Death in New Spain, 1604–1821 [doi]

[pathologicalreid]

angst masterlist

main masterlist

note: italicized titles denote requests; asterisks (*) mark all retired!reader fics; plus signs (+) mark hurt/comfort.

buried alive (2), (3): in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

the archer: in which a trip to your hometown leads an exposed past and a wrongful arrest, you can't help but wonder who could stay

brilliance: in which reader goes into labor after a fight and spencer is nowhere to be found

a father's daughter: in which your father doesn't approve of your relationship, but who knows how he'll react when reid jumps into action after a threat against your life

*stuck between a rock and a hard place: you, an undercover agent, uncover a hidden secret of the country's largest operation, putting your life in danger and under the protection of the BAU.

*the space between us: the adjustment between never being home and always being home starts to take a toll on you

*this is the job: you and Spencer (almost) get into a fight about the demands of your job.

sense memory: after eight months, you and Spencer reunite after he was in prison and you were in WITSEC.

no sign of danger: when SWAT makes a mistake that puts you in danger, your boyfriend is... displeased

next of kin (2):disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister

perennial: unrequited love brings spencer to his death bed, unless you can rescue him

work song: no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her

can you come get me? when you manage to escape your captor, and your first call is to spencer

epiphany: a story in four parts, before, during, after, and epiphany

+resilient: in which your boyfriend lends you and hand when your own are working against you

+dazed days: your job at the FBI is hard, but life with spencer is easy

+your needs, my needs: washing spencer's hair after his attempts to save a life go awry

+don't lose your head: a stalker uses your work as a tudor history professor to follow your every move, so you go to the only place you can think of for help - the BAU

+the ninth step: spencer starts to make amends after mexico - and he's starting with you

[ef-1]

Twitter is mad at Daniel again because they caught on to that CH interview about Daniel being offered the same contract as Max, icl I'm also bitter about it. I wish he wasn't so rash in 2018

It's easy to be bitter in hindsight but the reality is more nuanced, had it not been recorded and internationally broadcast, what happened to Daniel in 2018 would be flat out unbelievable by ANY standard lol. Daniel had mechanical issues in every. single. weekend in 2018 <- this is not a hyperbole or a joke (more on this later). He ran multiple races with a b spec engine -> 20 bhp down on Max. At no point in 2018 did Max run a lower engine power than Daniel. Daniel incurred 8 dnfs, 4 back of the grid starts for mechanical issues and 6 grid drops in total where as Max had *1*[one]. This isn't even accounting for failures in quali or free practice that would have compromised his set up or race prep. Daniel's car accounted for 92% of Red Bull failures in comparison to Max's 8%.

Christian's cunty "he ran from a fight" comment stung particularly hard because it was Christian who made MULTIPLE public apologies to Daniel in 2018 on the ground that he wasn't given a chance to compete. Christian would apologise to Daniel again when Max won in Mexico, even though Daniel had an uncharacteristic outburst in the media pen during that famous "The car is cursed. I can't wait to give it to Pierre" This isn't even diving into the dubious & predatory RB contract practices. At 28 years old, to quote Christian "It's the first time he's effectively a free agent."

You look back at it now and lament it as a bad call but even by Christian's admission Red Bull were on the verge of selling the team for 4 years. Honda was coming in, I know it's easy to praise Honda now but Honda single handedly sent Alonso into early retirement. He found working with them untenable + said it cost him his love for the sport. Those were the lingering images of Honda as they re-entered the sport, the team who electrocuted Alonso then bled his love for racing dry.

If you weren't around in 2018 let me give you a run down so horrific it looks like a joke:

Australia - Race: 3 Place grid penalty

Bahrain - Race: DNF - Battery Failure

China - Free Practice 3: Gear box issue with complete engine turbo failure. Misses FP3 entirely, no quali set up prepared. He would go on to win that race from p6

Baku - Race: DNF - Collision with Max. Racing incident.

Monaco - Race: partial MGU-K failure. He would go on to win that race with drastic loss of power.

Canada - Free Practice 2 - Power unit issue, misses majority of the session.

France - Race: front wing failure. (it disintegrated)

Austria - Race: DNF - Retires from p3 with MGU-k Failure

Britain - Quali: DRS failure. No DRS activation, still qualifies p6 behind Max in p5

Germany - Race: Back of grid start + DNF - Takes new engine for the weekend, starts p19 + has lower power spec A ICE approximately 20 BHP down on B spec that Max was running. Daniel climbed upto p5 from p19 but incurs a MGU-k failure and retires.

Hungary - Race: Daniel is forced to run lower power spec A ICE again, 20 BHP down on B spec that Max was running

Spa - Free Practice 1 + DNF: Daniel misses entire session with engine injector issue + Daniel would go on to retire after being driven into on lap 1.

Monza - Race: Back of grid start + DNF. Daniel takes another new engine for weekend (spec C) and incurs another full grid penalty, starts p19. Daniel would go on to climb to p6 before having clutch failure and retiring.

Singapore - Race + Quali + Free practice: During every session in Singapore Daniel has an unresolved spec C engine clipping issue that Red Bull can't fix.

Russia - Race + Free Practice 1 - Daniel misses FP1 due to mechanical issues. Daniel takes another engine penalty, starts p18

Japan - Race + Quali: Daniel incurs throttle actuator failure, misses quali, another back of grid start.

USA - Race: DNF - Battery Failure

Mexico - Race: DNF - clutch Bearing failure + start software clutch issue. Daniel retires the race from P2

Brazil - Race: Daniel takes a 5 Place grid penalty due to new turbo charger replacement. Starts in p11.

Abu Dhabi - Free Practice 3: Misses majority of FP3 with water leak.

Daniel's insanely vulnerable "if racing was the only thing making me happy this year, I would have been miserable" during the last on the sofa with Max was a v apt summary of 2018. To suggest that Daniel fucked up based on the information he had in 2018, namely Daniel undergoing all those problems + knowing RB was flirting with selling the team + Helmut's fuckery + having an out from the RB umbrella for the first time in his career? Your problem isn't with his decision making process, you just wish he was clairvoyant which is an unfair thing to be bitter about

[sunnys-out]

Welcome Home | Katrina Gorry

A/N: Hello, I'm alive. Sorry, I have been busy again with LSAT prep, work, and all that good stuff. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I had writing it.

(20. And I… I still love you, even after all of this time) from here

Warnings: familial death, panic attack symptoms, mentions of homophobia from family

WC: 2551

November 2023 Sweden

The cold air nipped at my nose as I stood still in front of the gate leading to the home. 

My feet shifted in the snow with a crunch. My hands shook, from nerves, as I move to cover my chest more to protect her from the cold. The home in front of me was familiar yet so new to me. 

I look down at the door to the once loose gate.

“Huh…she did end up remembering how to fix the gate” I thought.

______________________________________________________________

February 2018, Utah

The bags of groceries hit the counter top with a thud as I yelled toward Katrina, who remained struggling to lock the front door.

“You know this wasn’t what I had planned for us for Valentine’s Day you know…but hey we can celebrate you finally joining me here!” 

The smile on my face remained as I started unpacking the groceries.

Katrina moved through the maze of boxes that littered her apartment before stopping to look into one.

“Yeah unpacking as much as possible and then dinner…has the announcement already been posted?” she started removing framed photos from the box.

I nod and follow with, “Yup, they shot down my suggestion for the caption…“Katrina ‘Mini’ Gorry to join Utah Royals FC to join her amazingly charming and beautiful partner, y/n l/n” 

My hand gestures exaggerating the sentence to get a laugh from Katrina as I carried on.

“Plus, this absolutely beats just a Facetime call date so I don’t mind doing this with you, cariño (dear)” 

Katrina puts down the photo frame of us together when we won the NWSL championship with FC Kansas City and heads to the kitchen and leans on the counter.

“I meant to ask, how’s your sister doing? She doin’ alright?” the question gently leaving her mouth as if preparing for any sort of bad news.

I snort, “Mariana is doing great, surprisingly. She’s back in Mexico and just taking some time off. She met someone and it seems like it’s going well. She said ‘hi’ by the way”. 

My little sister, Mariana, played for the Houston Dash until she had sustained an injury that completely took her out of the sport the last year. Her body was not responding to the treatments or physical therapy and, ultimately, she decided to retire. Mariana elected to go live in Mexico and stay with our grand parents now that she “had all the time in the world for the first time in her life”. 

Katrina looks at me confused but shakes it away, “Your sister is really something, toughest girl I’ve ever met”.

I laugh, “Yeah and me the complete opposite, which is why you are the bug killer in this relationship”. I say talking out the vegetables from the bag and placing it amongst the rest. 

With a shrug Katrina said, “Well, you pay me back in fixing things around the places I’ve lived in…by the way can you do me a favor? I, may have made the latch loose on backyard gate…again…can you tell me how to fix it…again?”

My eyes meet hers as I feign frustration…”Cariño, you’re going to have to remember because what if it breaks…again and Im not around. I don’t want creeps coming into your backyard because you can’t fix it…just this once I’ll do it for you ok”. 

I sigh and leave the groceries on the dinner table and head out the back but not before I lean down and give her a quick kiss on the lips…”God, what would you do without me?” I joke.

______________________________________________________________________

The gate quietly locks behind me with a click. I feel a stir under the rebozo (thick shawl) on my chest, I gently caress the top of her head through the shawl and the movement stops. I lift the top of the rebozo and see that she did remain asleep. 

I smile softly down and whisper. “She’ll be so excited to meet you”.

 I look back at the house and see the lights on within giving off a warm glow. I begin walking and look over at the, now, empty, painted pots that line the wall underneath the window. 

I frown a bit, “damn, guess the roses didn’t make it did they?” I thought. 

As I continued closer to the door I notice several more “artistic” looking pots with doodles and little H’s adorning each and every one of them. 

A smile returned to my face as the memory came back to me.

______________________________________________________________

February 2020, Norway

The sun peaked through the clouds as Katrina and I sat looking outside the window of her home in Norway. A small heater directed at me as I meticulously continued to paint a medium sized pot. 

I hadn’t noticed that Katrina had stopped painting her own and just watched me as I seemed lost in what I was doing. My tongue sticking out of the side of my mouth as my attention was fully on the project in front of me.

“You not worried about getting paint on your ring, darling?” she said gesturing her paintbrush towards my left hand.

I finish up one little detail on the sun that I had just painted before I looked over to the ring in question.

“Oh shit…totally forgot to take it off.” my hands wiping off any paint before delicately taking off the ring from my finger and handing it to Katrina.

“Hold it for me?” I quietly ask before she silently takes the ring and places in her front pocket joining hers. 

Katrina caught my attention before I could find myself back to painting the pot in front of me.

“How’s Mariana doing?” the tone still careful.

I nod, “Uh she is pregnant actually, set to get married soon. She said that she wasn’t going to have a big thing and just get married at the courthouse…she’s still sad she couldn't make it out to our wedding last Fall ”

Katrina’s eyes widen at the mention of pregnancy, “Oh she’s pregnant? Congratulations to her then…can I ask?”. I notice that she starts to fiddle with her paintbrush as I continued painting with mine.

“What’s on your mind cariño?” my attention fully on her as she sighs softly.

She puts down her brush and takes one of my hands in hers. 

“Remember when talked about kids?...I know that you didn’t want to carry because of fear and I said I would be happy to just only when I feel ready to…(y/n), I’ve been thinking and I think I’m ready to do it, there’s a lot of support with IVF here in Norway and I’ve done the research because I know that you worry and-” she stops once I squeeze her hand. She hadn’t noticed that my eyes were already filled with tears. 

“Cariño, there is absolutely nothing I would want more. I will try to be there for you as much as I can even if it means taking time off with Chelsea” I say now holding her hands tightly in mine.

Katrina, immediately, shakes her head, “hey you have been dreaming of playing for Chelsea since you were young…I can’t ask for you to leave in your first season with them”. 

I laugh a little as I clean my eyes and nose with a leftover napkin “fine you win…well I should buy more pots when our kid is around I want to make sure they have one too.”

We had started our lives together and we were making the step to make it bigger. I had intended, no matter how much money it was going to cost me, to fly to Norway on my free weekends to see Katrina through her pregnancy. 

However, COVID completely shut me off and away from Katrina. Through facetimes filled with my constant worrying of her getting sick while she was pregnant were frequent but not enough to sustain me. 

I had only seen her once or twice after following the strict travel restrictions and I was nothing but elated. 

Katrina had asked how my sister was doing. I had shared with her that Mariana delivered a healthy baby girl, Corey. However, the news did not carry the same lightness as before, the father of the child had left Mariana before Corey was born.

Disregarding Katrina’s protests, I took a bit of time off with Chelsea to just be with her when she finally gave birth to our little Harper. Mariana, joined me in crying over our little addition to the family telling Katrina that “Corey, can’t wait to meet her”. 

Katrina would go to the Brisbane Roar for a time, while I remained in England. Katrina and I were experts in the aspects of a long distance relationship, that didn’t stop my heart from aching from not seeing Harper.  Mariana would fill in those gaps as she would send video after video of her and Corey. Katrina would also fill my phone with pictures of our little Harper…

I wish I could just live in that moment again when my only worry was when would be the time I would see either of them.

______________________________________________________________

As I moved quietly to the front door, I stopped myself from knocking. I couldn’t just yet…I missed Katrina and I knew she missed me but it had been so long since I had seen her. I plopped down on the steps away from the door. 

I pulled Corey closer to me, and she, in turn, buried herself even more into my chest…I just needed a moment to myself. I was early so Katrina wouldn’t be expecting me and plus I was hidden away from the windows; away from any curious eyes.

My breath came out white as I sighed looking towards the gate in front of me. The last time I was here I was leaving…leaving for Mexico as soon as I heard the news. Chelsea received a rushed email stating that I would be unavailable until further notice and Katrina saw me frantically packing.

I, absentmindly, started to play with my ring finger always forgetting that there was no ring there to play with. Katrina should have been madder at me then.

______________________________________________________________

February 2022, Sweden

The soft glow of my phone filled the room before the default ringtone woke me up. I carefully reached over trying not to move Katrina as much as she was asleep against my chest. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes I look and see my grandmother was on the other line. 

My grandmother never called without notice opting to only call when she knew that I would be awake. I answer and interrupt her before she starts asking her to just give me a minute in as soft of whisper I could muster.

I quietly leave Katrina’s side, walk by Harper’s bed by our and into the corridor. A yawn escapes me as I finally prompt my abuela to continue with what she was calling about.

“Ah mi niña, tu hermana esta muy mala, le encontramos en el piso desmayada y quieria avisar le,creo que tu necesitas a venir a vistar la…no sabemos cuanto le falta” (Ah, my daughter, your sister is not doing well, we found her passed out and we wanted to let you know, I think that you need to come and visit her, we don’t know how much time she has left). 

I do not remember what I responded but it must have been something akin to “I’m headed there now” as I immediately went to my laptop and bought the first ticket there. I moved through our home with complete disregard of the noise I was making at 3:30 am nor I didn’t know I was crying until I felt Katrina’s arms around me, calmly, saying my name to bring me out of my panicked state. 

The clothes still bunched up in my hands as I broke down. “It’s Mariana” was all I could hiccup. Katrina rubbing my back as she led me out of the room to not wake Harper. 

“How is Mariana?” she whispered the careful tone still there. 

I shook my head as I continued, “she’s dying, I have to go to see her…I can’t be here…I-” I start breathing slowly to calm my self as Katrina held me, I hadn’t even noticed that we were sat on the ground, her hand running up and down my back.

She smiles and nods as she herself tries to keep the tears from falling, “You go, I will be ok with Harper here, I know how much Mariana means to you…she means a lot to me too. Go take care of her…just know that I will be here for you and I… I still love you, even after all of this time…all the times we have been apart…I love you. Mariana is lucky to have you as an older sister as I am to have you as my wife”

______________________________________________________________

November 2023, Sweden

I was gone more than a year, Mariana had passed a month after I had arrived in our parent’s small home town. My parents, estranged, would not be there. Definitely not for the daughter they thought would defend their homophobia when I came out to them but defended me fiercely to her last breath.

I handled everything from the funeral, looking after my grandparents and the caring of little Corey. I watched the world cup from the bar counter of little restaurant on the corner. Bouncing Corey on me knee as I watched my wife make history. 

Katrina kept my ring safe with her, I do not trust my aunts at all especially after the fall out I had with my mother. The final check off of my list was preparing for the adoption of Corey. Once she was, in all eyes of the law, my own daughter we said our goodbyes and headed back to Sweden...back to Katrina and Harper…back home.

I sighed as I rubbed my eyes when the cold breeze hit me. The door behind me opened and enveloped me in a warm glow. It took me a few moments to register Katrina’s arms around my neck as she nuzzled her way into hair whispering, “Welcome home”.

I leaned back into her still holding Corey ahead of me as I then heard the pitter patter of little feet and a little “Mama” was heard as another weight was added on my back.

I laughed for the first time in a while, “Hey you two, careful don’t want to crush Harper’s new big sister” I say getting up. 

The sleeping bundle now with open eyes was let loose and with renewed energy hugged Harper and ran into the home pulling her in to play leaving me with Katrina. 

She grabbed me and kissed me like it was the first time and grabbed my hand as we separated. 

“I think this belongs to you, darling” She said slipping the wedding ring onto my finger as I clasped her hand once she did. 

I bring her in close, “of course it does…I love you, cariño” her lips capturing mine. 

Now two little voices came from within the home, “Mama!”. We enter hand in hand with our new favorite little distractions.

[katz-chow]

This is so Phillip Graves coded....thoughts? Also love your work♡^^

bang bang

a/n: STOP NO I LOVE THIS SONG. you're so right babyboo this is so graves coded. how much of life passed by him because of how much time he dedicated to his work. let me show you. angst, good ending, gn! reader, not how i normally write graves, him being an ass, slight suicidal themes, one religious bit, ignoring mw3

Phillip hadn't meant to leave you all alone all those years ago. Memories of weeping willows and tall grass in the scorching summer heat before school started to flood his mind as he drove through sun-bleached roads in the Hill Country. He was finally going home, back to the place where he could finally retire. Sure, he hasn't been back here in 5 years, but he was working and doing important missions within the military, you knew that.

He made sure you knew that when he left for the cold plains of Colorado to start up the Shadow Company. "It's dangerous work, Sweetheart." He said as he held your hand close to his chest. You were crying, begging to come with him, the shiny new ring on her your finger gleamed in the airport lighting.

"No. it's too dangerous, I don't want them coming after you..." He said when you called him a few weeks later after he informed you that he was going overseas. Again, you begged to be able to call him, to have any grasp of him and who he belonged to. And again, he denied it.

You suggested letters on a call a few months later, after he had gotten back from that first mission. He seemed more on edge, hardened...not your Phillip. He cursed and groaned, "When will you understand how dangerous everything is?! Use your brain and think will you? If I send back letters, they'll know where to find you. If you send back letters, they'll know where to find me. Hell, they can probably trace this call right back to you at this very moment and I can't do shit about that!"

You ended the call, frustrated tears rolling down your cheeks. You threw the sheets off of you and screamed into the pillows. You missed him and, of course, he just wanted you to be safe.

Soon, his signal got weaker and weaker. Letters were out of the option except for a rare one-pager or a post card sent from him. Mexico...seemed like a nice place to be, while you're stuck here in Texas, without your husband.

One month turned into two, and then 4 years, and then...he was dead. One of his old military buddies showed up to your door along with a shadow you've never seen before, a flag in hand.

You didn't cry during the funeral, there was no body. You didn't cry when you were handed the flag. You didn't cry on the drive home. You didn't cry until the sun went down and the normally empty house seemed colder, the last smoldering coal cooling down. That was when you couldn't take it anymore. Your knees sank down and hit the hardwood in your living room, framed pictures of the two of you hiking in California glimmered with the faint kitchen light that seemed so, so far away.

You felt the surge of guilt roll over you he was right, he was only keeping you safe from the mess of the world while you got to stay at home. But instead of admiring him and his care, you screamed and cursed and kicked and...cried. You cried out to him and he had no choice but to swallow the stinging in his chest whenever you asked when he was coming home. You couldn't see it at the time. Funny how these things work, it takes death to make you see it.

“If God teaches in this way, by weakening you into a vulnerable thing in order to beg for mercy, he is not a kind god. If this is the case, kill me too. If it’s cowardly than I accept being a coward, if it means I can be with him again.”

His death wrecks you. You don’t come out of the house anymore, not even to get groceries. You order things at your doorstep. You only open the door for people to send their condolences, but never allow them to go in nor do you want to go out. The house is no longer pristine and ready for him to come home at any minute anymore, because you know he won’t.

So imagine the sound of an engine cutting off in front of your house. Then the sound of a large car door closing. And then the keys turning the lock open. You don’t move from your nest of a bed, you figure you had forgotten to eat and the hallucinations are coming in. So you stare at the window blinds, bright sun outside causing a slight glow in your bedroom. You sigh. A lovely day gone to waste again, shame…

“Honey? I know you’re here, your car’s parked out…” His voice chirps as you hear heavy footsteps make its way around the small house. Then the sound of the door opening, your back facing it. You keep your eyes ahead, preparing for the part where everything fades to black and you fall asleep. You start to see the familiar figure in your peripheral and then his face knelt down to meet yours on the bed. You look at him, tiredly and sadden, dismissing the vision as you closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Baby…” His knuckles brush against your cheekbones and your eyes dart open and wide, looking up at him.

“Phillip…?”

His hand caress your face as yours reach out to him, fingers pinching and pulling at his face. He smiled softly. “It’s just me, again…Hi..”

Tears formed in your eyes as you sat up in bed, scrambling into his arms as you both sit on the floor. You screamed and sobbed and hit him as he held you close. “I thought you were fucking dead for almost a year, a whole fucking year, you asshole!”

Phillip didn’t seem fazed with your words nor your fists weakly hitting his back as you buried your face into him. “I know I’m sorry…I’m here now. I’m real, it’s okay, we’re okay.”

Your Phillip was home, safe and in your arms. He knew you would react in some way, but somehow he didn’t know it equate to you physically hitting him. He held you as tight in his arms as you would let him as you cried and screamed.

You succeeded in pulling away from him, tears turning into sniffles and a furrowed brown.

"I miss you."

A harsh pain whipped onto the side of his face, hard enough to pull his gaze from you to the bookshelf in the back against the wall.

"Don't do that again." You stared at him, tears silently rolling down your flushed cheeks as sniffled, lip quivering.

"I'll be here."

[mikhailwrites]

Waiting for Connection 15 / Ghost x Soap

Ghost is retired and plays milsim videogame. Soap is still in the force and sometimes plays that same videogame...

AN: It's a short chapter, but... just think of the exciting things to come from this!

Previous chapter | AO3

Ghost was right, of course. When they do the rematch, he gets his ass handed to him. First, Alejandro and Rudy flush him out of his hiding spot with outstanding teamwork. They don’t discover him, but it’s a close call. While relocating, Ghost runs into Roach, who’s been waiting and ready, and there’s nothing close about that encounter. It’s a quick and clean vendetta.

All the while, Soap takes out some AI enemies and gets to the holding cells. By the time Roach is putting a bullet into Ghost, John is well on his way to the RV. It wasn’t entirely fair since it’s been basically four-to-one, but Ghost did his best to make it harder. The truth is, he’s not sure he would be able to win this round even with Gaz, so it’s a well-deserved victory.

Just like the last time, they reunite after the match, and predictably, the mood is much lighter. There’s not much for Ghost to comment on as to future improvements; they really did well this time. Apparently the most challenging part was to get the AI-controlled VIPs to RV since they sometimes got stuck or the follow command stopped working.

“I swear I almost wanted to shoot them myself,” Soap says as he tells them of his little jungle adventure.

“Then the mission would fail. In any case, it couldn’t have been worse than escorting civilians for real,” Ghost replies, earning a hum of agreement from Alejandro. It seems he’s had his fair share of experience. Not that it surprises Ghost. He might not know what Alejandro did prior to joining the task force, but that doesn’t mean Ghost doesn’t have at least some idea. The man is clearly skilled, well-trained and experienced, and that, paired with the accent and some off-handed mentions here and there, paints an interesting picture. Special forces, most likely, and from that part of the world? That says a lot. Ghost had some joint operations in South and Central America. In Mexico, too, of course, but he would rather not go down that particular memory lane. In any case, he always respected his counterparts.

They talk about the mission a little longer before Rudy changes the topic. “I was thinking… It’s my birthday next month, and we wanted to hit the pub and have a few drinks. Wanna join us, Ghost?”

Simon sits back in his chair, thinking hard. He appreciates the offer. It’s just that it sounds like a lot of people at once.

“Come on, Ghost, last time I went to visit you, it’s time you returned the favour!” Soap joins in with a very low-blow argument. Technically speaking, it was John’s idea to visit him in the first place, but Simon happily agreed.

“I… I’ll think about it,” Ghost relents eventually because he has to give them some answer. It’s noncommittal; he can always refuse later.

“Great, we’ll hold a spot for you in any case. Just let me know if you want me to arrange a room on the base for you, it shouldn’t be a problem, but I’ll need a little heads-up,” Soap's voice betrays a smile. He wants Ghost to come, and Simon would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see him again.

They say their goodbyes and good nights, Simon takes off the headset and sighs. Sergeant appears out of nowhere, jumping onto his lap with an inquisitive meow. Simon scratches the cat on the neck, letting it sit. “What do you think, should I go?”

Stripey starts to purr, closing the big green eyes as his human continues with scratching.

“Some help you are,” Simon inclines his head but smiles softly at the creature. He should really start thinking about what he’s hoping to achieve with all of this.

[luvhughes43]

soccer royalty | trevor zegras x reader

luvhughes43 masterlist🌷

request: Trevor Zegras x Latina!reader where she’s the daughter, sister, and granddaughter of three famous soccer players from Mexico but when her dad retired they moved to the states to raise their family. Maybe shes very private with her life due to how famous her last name is in the Latino community, and when Trevor announces that they’re dating everyones freaking out because he’s dating soccer royalty and he’s just like “huh?” Because she never brought up who her family is. 

note: i know nothing about how soccer works

word count: 0.8k

soccer was in your blood. your father, grandfather, and brother were all accomplished and famous players. when your dad finally retired from the mexico national team, after helping mexico secure their first world cup win, your family name became cemented into the latino community. 

you grew up playing soccer in california, which came to no surprise to anyone. however, after an injury in your freshman year playing for the california golden bears, you were forced to quit the sport. after your injury, you sort of dropped of the face of the earth. you had felt so much pressure from your family, and families fans to be good at soccer, that now that it was all over for you, you were glad to just take a step back.

therefore, when you started dating pro athlete Trevor Zegras, you didn’t rush to tell him who your family was. he knew about your injury, and that your brother was on the mexico national team, but he didn’t know how famous your family was in the soccer world. 

trevorzegras

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trevorzegras night out🌃🔥

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fan1 BRO IS DATING YN LN???

ynuser ❤️❤️

trevorzegras ❤️❤️

fan2 does he even know who she is…

jackhughes congrats man🔥🔥

trevorzegras thanks jacky wacky

fan3 jacky wacky??😭😭

jamie.drysdale where was my invite??

ynuser you’re coming next time

jamie.drysdale next time where ditching trevy and going out on our own liked by ynuser

trevorzegras jamie.drysdale 🤔

fan4 hard launching yn ln is crazyy😭😭

Trevor sat next to you on his couch scrolling through his insta comments. he read through all the comments talking about your family and how famous you were in the soccer/latino community. 

“hey … yn” Trevor started, tilting his phone so you could read his comments. you froze, completely unaware of how Trevor was going to react now that he knows the truth about your family. “why didn’t you tell me about your family?” he asked, switching over to google so he could search your family name. 

“I was going to tell you I just… i dont know” you trailed off which made Trevor snap his head in your direction and drop his phone on the couch.

“oh baby i'm not upset!” he announced, grabbing onto one of your hands. 

“i just, my whole life i’ve been attached to my familys name and i just… i don’t know. after my injury and everything i’ve just wanted privacy away from it all” you explained, and Trevor nodded along to your every word. 

now that he knew, you explained everything to him. the pressure you felt, the injury, your family's fame. he listened and understood, holding onto your hand the whole time you were talking to him. you weren’t ashamed of your family by no means, you loved them and you loved your community, it was just nice to have privacy. 

a few days later you walked into Trevors room for your weekly movie night. 

“what are you watching?” you asked as you laid down next to him.

Trevor set his phone down but you still heard the audio. 

“are you watching my dads soccer highlights?” you laughed, succeeding in grabbing Trevor's phone from him. on the screen was a twenty minute compilation of your dads “best moments”. 

you laughed again and Trevor huffed, grabbing his phone back from you. “what? he’s good?” Trevor said as he lightly gripped your waist and pulled you in to cuddle with him. 

“you’re cute” you smiled, pulling away to place a kiss on Trevors nose. Trevors smile lit up his face and you felt butterflies rising in your stomach.

“You’re cuter” he replied, pulling you down to place a kiss on your lips, his hands trailing down your sides. 

“mhmm, and by the way my family wants to meet you” you pulled away from Trevor who looked at you with wide eyes.

“they what?” he asked a little frantically which made you giggle.

you hummed in response, “yeah my brother is playing a game in a few weeks and since it’s off season for you…” 

“oh my god i'm going to meet your family,” Trevor said, pulling away from you and sitting up. “AND we’re going to a soccer game? what do i wear to a soccer game? do you think they’ll like me? where’s the game at? okay but what if-” Trevor went off on one of his tangents, nonstop asking you questions about your family, and how meeting them would be like. you answered his questions once he slowed down, happy that he was excited to meet your family.

ynuser just posted !

ynuser

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ynuser trevors first pro football (soccer) game🫡⚽️

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yourbrother trevorzegras so cool to finally meet you!

ynuser yourbrother you have to come up for a hockey game now!

yourbrother ynuser i’m down

trevorzegras yourbrother it was cool to meet you too! loved the game⚽️💯

fan1 trevor meeting the family🔥

jamie.drysdale looking good trevorzegras

trevorzegras had the best time! thank you so much for bringing me! I love your family❤️

ynuser i love you😭❤️

trevorzegras i love you more❤️

[deadpresidents]

Road Trip

On November 8, 1960, millions of Americans went to the polls in what would become one of the closest Presidential elections in American History:  John Fitzgerald Kennedy versus Richard Milhous Nixon.

That morning, Kennedy voted in Boston and Nixon voted in Whittier, California.  The candidates had spent months canvassing the nation, working to get every last vote – and every last vote was needed.  For the past several weeks, Kennedy and Nixon had criss-crossed the country, debated one another, and been working non-stop to be elected the 35th President of the United States.

After they voted that day, there were results to monitor, precincts to watch, election day problems to take care of, and many other things to worry about.  Imagine being on the cusp of the Presidency – with a 50/50 chance of being elected the next President of a superpower in the grip of the Cold War, with the threat of Communism and nuclear weapons hanging over your head, and the hopes of hundreds of millions of people pinned on either your victory or defeat.  Imagine being in the position of John F. Kennedy or Richard Nixon on November 8, 1960.  What would you do? 

John F. Kennedy put the control of his campaign in the hands of his younger brother, Bobby, and then took a nap.

And Richard Nixon took a road trip to Mexico.

Once Nixon voted that morning at a private home in a quiet Whittier neighborhood, he had been scheduled to head to the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles (where Bobby Kennedy would be assassinated eight years later) for the Election Day vigil and the long wait for the returns which would indicate whether he would be moving into the White House or facing an early retirement. 

Nixon was finished voting by 8:00 AM and hopped into his black Cadillac limousine to be driven to the Ambassador.  Several blocks away from the polling place, Nixon ordered the limousine to stop.  Along with a military aide and a Secret Service agent, Nixon jumped out of the limo and into a white convertible follow-up car driven by an officer from the Los Angeles Police Department.  Nixon took the LAPD officer’s place, got behind the wheel and ditched the press which had been following him.

Driving to La Habra, California, Nixon made a quick visit with his mother, making sure she had voted for her son in the Presidential election.  Nixon drove south along the Pacific Coast Highway, with no specific destination.  He stopped for gasoline in Oceanside and told a gas station attendant – startled to see the Vice President of the United States on a joyride on the very day that he stood for election as President – “I’m just out for a little ride."  Nixon confided that it was his only source of relaxation.

As the group of four men, with Nixon in the driver’s seat, reached San Diego – over two hours away from Nixon’s campaign headquarters at L.A.’s Ambassador Hotel – Nixon pointed out that he hadn’t been to Tijuana in at least 25 years.

As David Pietrusza wrote in his recap of Nixon’s road trip, "Richard Nixon – the ultimate control freak – was winging it on the most important day of his life."  Not only that, but the sitting Vice President of the United States and the man who many Americans were choosing to become the next President, impulsively decided to leave the entire country while those voters were still at the polls.

In Tijuana, Nixon and his party headed to a restaurant called Old Heidelberg.  Despite the fact it was owned by a German, Border Patrol agents told Nixon that it was the best place in Tijuana for Mexican food.  Joined at the last moment by Tijuana’s Mayor, Xicotencati Leyva Aleman, Nixon, his military aide, a Secret Service agent, and an average LAPD officer ate enchiladas in Mexico while John F. Kennedy took a nap in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts.

When Nixon’s press secretary Herb Klein was asked about the missing candidate, he had to tell reporters that Nixon often took some private moments on hectic days such as Election Day.  Really, though, Klein had no clue where Nixon was, eventually admitting that the Vice President was "driving around without any destination”. 

After lunch in Tijuana, Nixon and his companions headed back north towards the United States border crossing.  The LAPD officer took over driving duties as Nixon sat in the convertible’s passenger seat.  A shocked Border Patrol guard shook hands with the Vice President and asked the man who was currently on the ballot for the Presidency, “Are you all citizens of the United States?”.

Nixon and company drove to the Mission of San Juan Capistrano, which Nixon called “one of my favorite Catholic places” on the day he faced the first successful Catholic candidate for the Presidency in American History.  Nixon took his three companions on a quick, informal tour of the Mission.  “For a few minutes, we sat in the empty pews for an interlude of complete escape,” Nixon later recalled.

The missing candidate and his three road trip buddies arrived back in Los Angeles before the election results started rolling in.  Nixon had to explain his trip to reporters who had been searching for him all day.  “It wasn’t planned.  We just started driving and that’s where we wound up.”

In his Memoirs, Nixon didn’t go too far into explaining why he escaped on Election Day, but a paragraph about that day is pretty illuminating:

“After one last frenetic week, it was over.  Since the convention in August I had traveled over 65,000 miles and visited all fifty states.  I had made 180 scheduled speeches and delivered scores of impromptu talks and informal press conferences.  There was nothing more I could have done.”

Except escape to Mexico while JFK slept.

[meganwhalenturner]

2023 booklist for Small Business Saturday

Middle Grade

Simon Sort of Says by Erin Bow

I am going to pat myself on the back forever because I hosted the writing retreat where Erin started work on this book. Not many people say, "I'm going to write a middle grade novel that will shine the light of a white hot sun on gun violence and I'm going to make it funny." But Erin did. And it is amazing.

Teen

The Luminaries and The Hunting Moon by Susan Dennard

At the launch for The Hunting Moon at Schuler's Books in Grand Rapids, they asked me to describe The Hunting Moon in six words and I said, Magic, Monsters, Witches, Impossible Family Expectations.

This unabashedly teen book was a breath of fresh air for me. Return to a simpler time when teenagers just had to risk their lives killing monsters in enchanted forests while struggling to win approval from people they are beginning to think have really questionable values.

Summer in Orcus by T Kingfisher

Ursula Vernon writes books for younger readers under her own name and everything from YA up to adult under the name T Kingfisher. I could recommend any of her books, but Summer in Orcus has a special place in my heart. Summer's mother wants to keep her safe, so safe that when Baba Yaga offers Summer a portal to the magical realm of Orcus, Summer is through it like a shot.

Adult SF and Fantasy

The Adventures of Amina Al Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty

A retired pirate! Who happens to be a mother! Who is torn between her desire to live a nice safe life with her daughter and, you know, piracy.

A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine

When the new Ambassador from tiny Lesl Station arrives at the capital of the far flung galactic empire, her first job is to figure out who murdered her predecessor. I loved the convolutions in Martine's world building and story telling.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Lorena Garcia

It's the Jazz Age in Mexico. Someone's been keeping the Mayan God of Death trapped in a trunk at the foot of the bed. And that someone's granddaughter, who is utterly sick and tired of her horrible relatives, has just opened that trunk.

Where Late the Sweet Birds Sang by Kate Wilhelm

This is an old one. This book was published in 1976 and has recently been republished. I read it thirty years or more ago and have never forgotten it. It's a thoughtful, brutal, beautiful book about the decay of civilization and the importance of individuals, individuality, and the preservation of diversity.

Warrior's Apprentice by Bujold

If you like Gen, I think you'll love Miles. 😁

[captain-mj]

hey idk if I missed what it stands for somewhere or smth but. rlly curious what ESU stands for in the GhostSoap Handler fic.

also,, 100000/10 fuckign,,, LOVING that fic so MUCH I am bouncing off the walls like the roommate's crackhead cat at 2am that keeps one from getting decent sleep

So this is the last chapter! ESU stands for Experimental Soldiers Unit (not the most creative but are most military names?)

Previous Parts

Soap gently helped Ghost into his tac vest while Ghost checked Soap’s gun. He went over every inch, making sure it was working perfectly.

Ghost felt a kiss be placed to the base of his wings.

There was a funny sense of finality that Ghost knew everyone around him must feel. Surely they had to.

Yet no one acted any differently.

It was a simple milk run. The only difference was Valeria was the target. It was fine. Normal.

Fucking… normal.

Ghost felt like he was on a tightrope. Soap was perfect. Soap was always perfect. But Jesus Christ he was tired. It ached. This longing to curl back up in his chair in Glasgow.

Graves’s words were going to him. But now, so were Alex’s.

“Simon, do you ever wish you could retire?”

“No.”

“I do. I think of one day never shifting back. Putting the wings away. Maybe just cutting them off so i can never be asked again.” Alex had seemed far away. Something had changed with him recently. Or maybe it was Ghost seeing it for the first time. “Can’t do it yet. Not while they’re still things to do. People to protect.”

Ghost hadn’t responded.

Alejandro seemed happy. Graves seemed happy. Was it something they were doing? Some secret?

Alejandro and Rodolfo got married. He saw the way they looked at each other. It was the way he looked at Soap when he caught himself in mirrors.

Why was that not enough? Why was loving Soap not enough to fix it? Fix him? Make him less tired?

But he did his job just like always. He sat quietly in his seat on the truck, listening to a Gaz and Price and Soap. They were talking about the mission, planning.

Ghost would go in alone and they’d ambush her. She knew they were coming so they expected a lot of fighting. It’s why it was important they stay and watch his back.

His nails dug into his skin. They were concerned about him. Price asked if he could handle it alone.

“Yes, sir. I can.”

Ghost went into the building, taking special care to be silent. Everyone else could get the enemies' attention. He just needed to find Valeria.

And he did. He found her with a hurt monster. A Damaged thing.

Nunez's wings were beautiful, but he had the same staining on his skin that Ghost did. Same curse.

Valeria looked at him.

He understood.

"I watched the military destroy Alejandro. Take men and return pieces of them. I just... couldn't let that happen to him. I stopped it in Los Almas when no one else did!" Valeria hissed at him, standing in front of Nunez. "It was selfish and horrible what they did. You defend them you..." She stared, slowly relaxing. "You..."

Ghost stared. He swallowed thickly.

"No, you get it."

Ghost hated her.

"If we're found, they'll take him away from me. They'll start experimenting on him again. Can you live with that?"

Ghost thought of an airplane.

"Go." He rasps. "Just go."

Valeria smiled and Nunez dragged her away, going faster than anyone Ghost had ever seen. And Ghost went out a different door.

He heard them realize Valeria was going South and Ghost started going North.

Simon knew he had to go home.

Hopefully Soap wouldn't be so mad at him.

His radio went off. "Simon. Simon, how copy."

Ghost took his radio off and dropped it on the ground.

"Simon. How copy."

Ghost listened to them try to call him back. He took off his vest and left it on the ground. His dog tags were left a few feet away from them.

He hoped Alex would leave soon. He deserved it. Gaz deserved it. To know his sweetheart would be coming home.

Ghost remembered his journey to Texas after Mexico. It felt similar. His feet bled. His chest convulsed. The little thing called his heart beating and fluttering randomly. It begged him to go back or lay down and die.

What are you without the military?

Don't know. I'll figure it out.

What are you without Soap there to hold your hand?

If I never let go of his hand, I'll never have to know.

Ghost found himself crawling into Soap's bed in Glasgow. He showered first, not wanting to dirty his sheets. Soap had been there recently it seemed but left again. His body sank into the pillows. Too large and bulky but it cradled him gently.

When he got up, he ate. He showered again. He stared at the walls before using Soap's computer.

First thing he did was snoop through emails to look at reports. They were about him. All about him. Where was he? Why was his gear left? Is he okay?

In one of Price's reports, there was a message at the bottom.

"I hope it goes well."

It was an odd phrasing. Just odd enough for Ghost to know it was on purpose.

Of course Price would know.

After a week of searching, life returned to normal. For them. Ghost was still in Soap's home. And after a lot of rest, he started to do stuff again. He started to look through more reports, but nothing was that fun. Then, he started to search the internet.

Ghost found his brother's old music. Silly teenage band music. He liked hearing his brother's drumming. The person singing didn't really matter. Just Tommy's drumming.

It led Simon down a rabbit hole. About his murder apparently.

There were videos upon videos about his family.

He watched every single one.

True crime videos. Women doing makeup and men making jokes.

it was nice, seeing his family together again sans his father.

Then, someone showed a picture of him in a bar, clearly drunk and hunched over. His body was already changed but the baggy hoodie kept it semi hidden.

"It's time stamped for 9:17."

"Time of Death was put at 9:19."

"How did he travel all the way home and tear them to shreds in two minutes?"

Ghost didn't do it. That night wasn't his fault.

The realization had him clawing at his skin and wailing until he worried the neighbors may call the cops. His head throbbed and his throat ached.

The black on his skin spread. It burned and ached and for once, Ghost decided it wouldn't be so bad to be half mad and feral. His brain hurt. There was so much heat on his body. Intense and furious.

A fever over took him. It felt almost silly. Like his emotions had gotten so harsh and bad that it gave him a physical reaction.

His body had an intense ache over it and it felt like the light blistered against his skin. Everything was hazy and out of focus, unable to focus on anything.

So Simon showered in the dark and he ignored that his skin felt so uncomfortable and that his feathers had started to fall out.

And then one day, he woke up, body incredibly sore from his fever but no more hysteria or fever. He ran his hands over his face, pausing.

His hands. They looked.

Normal.

No claws.

Just pink flesh.

There was a sound and he perked up. It didn't ring in his ears or go on for ages.

There was a click of a door and Simon went downstairs. His clothes hung off of him, no longer tight.

Soap.

Soap put his keys into the bowl. He looked exhausted. Red rings around his eyes.

Simon was stupid.

"Missed me?"

Johnny went for his gun before freezing. He just kept staring.

"Ghost?"

Simon stretched, for the first time in years not feeling the weight of wings and guilt on his shoulders.

"Just Simon."

"Simon."

"How about I make you a cup of coffee? Or food? I'm sure you're starving." Simon wanted to feel useful suddenly. It was an intense need to help that was interrupted by Soap kissing him hard. Simon only flinched back, worried his fangs would cut his lips. But there were no fangs. Just lips.

Simon yanked him closer and kissed him deeply, pulling him in closer.

Johnny pulled away and shook him. "You fucking disappeared. You fucking... You..." He kissed him again.

"I'm sorry. I waited here for you. I'm never going to let go of your hand."

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it."

[trivialbob]

The Good, the bad, and the Ugly

The Good - For Christmas Sheila signed me up for Surly Brewing's Bottle Project. Four times a year I get a limited edition beer. I love limited edition beers.

This week I went to the large brewery and restaurant to pick up the first bottle. There was also a metal water bottle for me. A lot of people there for the same reason. Surly also had a small tasting event for us.

We got to try a sample of what's in that bottle: North, a barleywine ale aged in fernet barrels. Very good.

Then we sampled Tattersall distillery's amaro and fernet, two bitter, aromatic spirits. I liked each, but probably not enough to buy a 750ml bottle of either.

The Bad - Last night I opened the dishwasher to put in a final glass. I peered inside to admire my handiwork before pressing the start button. Nothing caps off the end of my day like starting the dishwasher, then going to bed while it works, and I sleep.

Some people don't care how they load a dishwasher. But I do. I like to imagine things get more clean when the plates are aligned, pieces of silverware all face the same direction, and cups and mugs are thoughtfully placed at an angle where they don't accumulate water if the bottoms are concave.

Feng shui matters in appliances too.

My wife, standing behind me, watched. Earlier, she had turned one plate around. Two plates now faced each other. A good host doesn't seat a left-handed person to the right of a right-handed person. Their elbows will bump. Always something to think about. And plates shouldn't face each other in the dishwasher because... well, just because.

She laughed as I corrected the placement. Then I started the machine and retired to the guest room for the night.

The Ugly - Friends of ours parked a vehicle in our driveway while they were in Mexico for a few weeks. We live not far from the airport and don't mind dropping off people so they don't have to pay for parking. Last night I picked up the couple in their own vehicle.

It's a 29-year-old Jeep Grand Cherokee. At one time this was a very nice, expensive SUV with leather seats, automatic climate control, and other luxury features. The paint had been white, I think.

Today it's their winter beater.

Before I could drive to MSP I had to jump start the Jeep for the second time. I had run it the day before, to make sure it would start, after jump starting it the first time.

To unlock the hood I pulled on Vice Grip pliers that were permanently affixed to a cable under the dashboard.

Once the Jeep was running, it was loud. The exhaust system apparently was vacationing in Mexico too, leaving me with a deep rumbling, rusty Jeep.

Driving along I-494 made me think the road was covered in ice. It was just the Jeep. The right side tires were not in agreement with the left side ones, or the front with the back either. Like four kids fighting in the back seat, except I couldn't hear them over the sound of the exhaust. The power steering didn't work either. Driving in a straight line required two hands at all times and much concentration. What an ingenious way to keep a person from texting while driving.

At the cell phone lot I waited briefly while our friends collected luggage and went through customs. There was no way I was going to shut off the Jeep, for fear it wouldn't start again. So I sat next to two unfortunate drivers who surely could hear and feel the Jeep's exhaust. While stationary, I began to smell that exhaust too. Only my sense of sight was spared from it. Had I seen the toxic gas inside the Jeep I probably would have simply abandoned the vehicle where it was parked.

Finally I picked up the couple in the arrivals section. Traffic was pretty bad. After they were belted in, I tried to leave but was blocked all around. An officer directing traffic must have been tired of the sound, smell, and sight of that Jeep.

He--and I'm not exaggerating--stopped two lanes of traffic, made another car move forward, and directed me to get the Jeep into the far left lane so I could leave. I waved to him in thanks. H probably rolled his eyes.

On the way to my house I good-naturedly remarked about the condition of the Jeep. The wife of the couple laughed, then asked: "You're not writing about this on your blog, are you?"

Of course not.

[richardsletters]

“Dear Jodi, 

Hi thank you for the photos. They were cool. Good to hear from you again! Is that you in the pictures? Getting a job as a teacher shouldn't be too bad. When do you go back to school? Say hi to Troy for me. I did get a few letter's from him which I'll answer soon. Hope you can read my writing ok. It's 1 AM. I don't have a desk and my pen is less than stellar. I did visit some cities in Mexico. Never did go to the pyramids. Wish I had though. I wonder if you could climb the pyramids in Egypt. You think? Have you ever been to Israel or do you intend to go someday? What do you think about what is going over there? Your last name is Jewish? Thanx for telling me about the Jewish faith and whether they believe in the devil. I was kinda right then cause I had a jewish lawyer (-> They are some of the best lawyer's around) back in 85 and he told me they didn't believe in the devil. Me + him parted ways cause we couldn't get along the following year. You say that in christianity, the devil punishes the sinner, you think? Maybe there's something to that rolling stones song "Sympathy for the devil" after all. ha The part where it says "what busted you is the nature of my game". ha I alwayas thought that in religions, god was the punisher. You know when god gets pissed (according to the bible) it's bad news. ha Noah's ark, Saddam + Gomora + all that. Ah you an atheist then? I do remember (I think) you telling me this in one of your past letters. You + Troy seem to make a perfect couple. You both very smart. How did you guys meet? Whats a " Bris for the child (?)" mean? Is that like circumcision? Foreskin being cut off? Ouch. :) Yes indeed I know what you mean when you write that your different views on religion from the ones your family has can create problems. Same here. My family is catholic and I'm a satanist :) And also with all the different idologies and mind sets in the world I'm suprised the world isn't a more chaotic place. Have you been watching the news re: The catholics and protestants going at it in Ireland? I've created my own religion.:) Its called "I believe in what I want to believe in." ha I don't follow any one satanic groups preachings. I believe in God- and Satan as being a spirit. a spirit who rebelled against God and has legions of demons all over the worl. Pretty weird concept huh? ha I do know alot of Satanists don't believe in Satan as an actual being or spirit. Nope I don't remember meeting Lavey. It's possible though but I doubt it. Rumor has it he was a big fibber. ha I did meet his daughter Zeena though who had a falling out with him. I did hear about that Ed Gein movie. I doubt I'll ever see it. You gonna go check out From Hell with Johnny Depp? 13 Ghosts looks pretty good. I know Texas Chainsaw Massacre was done with Ed Gein's crimes in mind. You're seen that one? I do have pics on my wall yup here's a drawing of my cell for you. Pretty gruesome huh? ha I've been living in these cells for 16 years now. Ugh! ha Yeah the WTC attack in NY was something else. I saw it happen live on TV. Looked like something straight out of a movie. Your bible story of Ishmael and Isaac was interesting maybe that really is where the feud started eh? I can see them on that game show "The Family Feud". ha That drawing you sent me from the internet was really cool. Thanx. Now if you'll excuse me my love (hope you don't mind me calling you that :) ) I have to retire for the night. Jeeves, Bring me my glass of warm milk. :) I'll end here, hope to hear from you again soon. All my best <3 Own the day, Richard.” 

“PS Don't send polaroids”

[empresslilaccc]

Welcome to my world!

You may address me Empress, Mommy, or Daddy.

I am a 26 years old FINANCIAL DOMME from California. I’m a bisexual switch dom leaning. The type of domme I am would be a mix of sadistic, bratty, and kind. How could all those go into one, you might think? But that’s for you to figure out. If you are looking for a safe space, that’s me. I’ll guide you down a journey you have never been down, and you’ll love every second.

Kinks :

• CBT

• CEI

• JOI

• BNWO

• Financial Domination 

• Female Domination

• Ass Worship

• Feet Worship

• Body Worship

• Humiliation

• Degradation

• SPH

• TPE

• Praise

• Sissification/Feminization

• Chastity

• Tease/Denial

• Smoking

• and more

Hard Limits:

• Inc3st Play

• Scat

• Extreme CBT

• Blood

• Vomit

• Age Play

• Rap3 Play

Some Fun Facts About Me:

I only started traveling this year. a few places i’ve been are Mexico, Miami, st. Vincent and the Grenadines, and Detroit. I have a boba addiction. I am a retired athlete (track & field).I guess you can call me a geek or nerd because I fan girl over anime. my favorite is Inuyasha.

For any inquiries about ownership, sessions, custom content, or cashmeets, a $44.44 initial tribute is required.

**If you're underage, homophobic, or just weird in general, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED**

[rb19]

It was almost as if Max Verstappen had been awoken from the trance of his season as he dealt with the reaction to what transpired over his radio on the last lap in Brazil. The cowardly moronic elements at the toxic fringes of social media had made death threats to him, his family and to the other participant in this drama, Sergio Perez. 

But even the less extreme angry reactions are from a place not understanding the distinction between a competitor and the person in which the competitor resides. There is a bubble in which a competitor seals themselves off from the everyday world, especially in something as solitary and extreme as racing an F1 car.

That’s the place where they perform and going in there becomes a routine. The outer world is cut off, silenced and the entire focus is on delivering performance. At Red Bull in particular, but all teams to an extent, the lead driver is made to feel supported by all around him, made to feel like this is his racing family and that everyone is there to be focused on him.

The team reality is that this is a big organisation with hundreds of people working to produce that car and to go racing with it. But that isn’t a feeling any driver wants to take with them into the car. These are intense competitors and the cars are simply the instruments through which they compete.

Occasionally the two worlds collide, as we saw at Alpine in Brazil’s sprint race the day before the Verstappen controversy. Fernando Alonso and Esteban Ocon’s two bouts of contact on the opening lap which ruined the races of both led to team boss Laurent Rossi to tell them that if they had been any other employees but drivers, prioritising themselves over the team would have resulted in instant dismissal for gross misconduct. But they are drivers, with a rare skill set upon which the team relies. They are employees only in the formal sense, not the visceral. They are hired gun mercenaries grudgingly obliged to be part of a team. That used to be at the very core of the appeal of racing, that rebellion against the mediocrity of the everyday.

But once it’s all over, they are out of the combat zone and have decompressed, they’re not that fierce. They are a pretty damn cool bunch of people on the whole. Recall the contrast between Red Bull era Sebastian Vettel, his refusal to comply to Multi 21 or to apologise for it, the victory ‘number 1’ finger etc, the contrast between that guy and the smiling, funny, caring Vettel underneath? Some of the other drivers referred to it yesterday when asked of their thoughts about his retirement.

[...]

Talk to those around Verstappen and they will tell you that for all his assassin character in the car, his dominant personal trait away from racing is as a peacekeeper, who always wants to make things right for those around him. There isn’t really a ‘side’ to him, no cynical, calculated strategy there, but his racing persona, very much formed and honed by father Jos Verstappen – a man whose ferocity in the car extends to the outside world much more than with Max – is zero compromise and binary. So when asked in Mexico if he’d be prepared to help Perez to a home victory in his chase of second in the championship his answer – probably based on events in Monaco qualifying, which played a crucial part in Perez defeating Verstappen to win the race – was a firm ‘no’ and in his usual straightforward, open way he explained why.

Hence when, a race later, he was asked to help the same cause with a lap to go, he was surprised to hear the question, as he’d already responded to the same request in Mexico, with reasons. His way of communicating that over the radio wasn’t gracious and he’d probably have made things a lot easier for himself if he’d just either stayed silent or said, ‘Let’s discuss it later’. But he gave his response from the perspective of his in-car self, and that of an indulged provider of performance by a team which specialises in cossetting its number one to maximise that performance.

When the intensity of the cockpit meets the outside world in the era where social media makes the uninformed not realise it’s uninformed and that because it’s seen something believes it understands it, this is the fall-out.

Motor Sport Magazine, Mark Hughes

[adobealmanac]

El Tecolote (The Owl)

From the Nahuatl Tecolotl. In New Mexico, there is a story to be found about the owl. A magnificent creature it is, but as magnificent it is equally feared. You must know the right generation to hear this tale, and I hope to document it here. Firstly, you must understand the culture of spirituality in New Mexico. Witchcraft is unspoken. Brujos are unwanted, until you need them. Witches are believed to be solely evil here. They are closer akin to flesh pedestrians than they are to the modern witch, atleast in folklore. That is.. until you seek one out. Then, they are simply a means to an end.

Here is one of those tales: Isabella once visited her friend Ramira. Isabella did not know Ramira was a witch. Both went to bed late in the evening, after spreading the chisme (gossip). They retired to the bedroom, and shared the same bed. Around midnight (the best time to practice mischief and execute revenge, as the old folks say) Isabella saw Ramira get out of bed, and light a candle. She pulled out her eyes (leaving only her witches eye in place), and sat them in her filigree silver box. She began to shrivel up, becoming the size of a rat. She flew out of the chimney, riding inside of a dried chile pod. Evidently, Isabella could no longer stay in the house. She quickly dressed, and ran to her home as fast as she could. As she was running, she saw a large owl perched atop the old cottonwood. El Tecolote was a fearsome sight in New Mexico, as it was the sign of a nearly-advanced witch. The stages of witchcraft in NM would follow a simple path of: - The Dove, or apprentice - The Owl, or practitioner - The Dog, or old hag -The Fox, or a backstabber or vengeful spirit It is understandable now why owls were often feared, as many believed them to be witches in their prime. Owls were thought to be their preferred form. Their hoots are bad omens, telling of misfortune and loss. If they were seen standing for prolonged periods of time it was a sure sign of evil nearby. While owls are certainly not witches in disguise (although I would love to transform into an owl; it would make traffic easier to navigate) it may be worth noting this story if you plan on traveling through NM at night. If you see an owl during your travels through our region, do beware, and maybe skip that sketchy motel on the side of the road, as it may not be as convenient as you first thought.