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proceduralpassion · 7 months

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Would You Kill For Me, My Love?

Day 9 of Narcoctober- Create anything devoted to an LGBTQ+ character. Create anything with a queer and/or trans original character or reader insert.

Characters: Pacho Herrera x OC (Will Boa Vista)

WC: 522 (she smol but she mighty)

A/N: Whewwww they kinda got me a choke hold ngl. This is less than 600 words and somehow there's a whole universe and timeline for them in my noggin'. Das crazy. Remember kids: grammar and spelling errors add spice and character.

“It’s a simple ask.”

The situation is nowhere near the realm of funny but the laugh escapes Will before he can bury it back in his throat. It tapers into a heavy sigh and his shoulders sag like he’s resting the weight of the world on them.

“It’s not a simple ask, mi amor,” Will demurs.

Pacho grabs a hold of his hand, his other hand occupying a gun. Will looks up at the grasp and their eyes meet in a desperate exchange, “It is a simple question, my dear. Are you willing to kill for me?”

Will’s eyes don’t hold doubt. They hold fear, sure, but there’s no deception or betrayal in his stare. There’s adoration, there’s contemplation. He was never meant to be brought into this world. Desperation along with an unfortunate sequence of circumstances landed them together, and even then, Will regrets not a thing. He never thought that he'd find love before meeting Pacho. He never imagined himself holding a lover in such high regard. If it were anyone else, Will would’ve told them they were crazy. That he would do no such thing as take another’s life. But now? Now, he’s more scared of what he is willing to do in the name of love.

Pacho keeps talking to fill the silence since Will has not yet spoken, “It’s okay, you know. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to take this as your out. I know how much you mean to me, and how much I mean to you.”

He doesn’t say it outright, but he knows that no matter how this goes, Will would never betray Pacho.

Things were ramping up and if Pacho predicted correctly, there would soon be a war on his hands. He’d already been making moves and setting things to the side in order to prepare on the business front. Now, he found himself considering the chess pieces on the chessboard of his personal life. Who was vulnerable. Who would be targeted to hurt Pacho the most.

Will was a man who came from his own background of violence and brutality, but there were lines that even he hadn’t crossed. Pacho was ready for anything that could possibly be thrown at him, but this was the life he was built for. The life he was brought into before he even came of rational mind. There was no escaping it. And he wasn’t sure that he wanted to. But Will still had the chance to cut his losses, if that was what he so chose.

Pacho continues, looking on at his lover’s face as if he could decipher the man’s racing thoughts from merely standing in front of him, “I won’t ask you to stand by my side if that is not your wish-”

Will silences him by cupping his hand over Pacho’s. He leans in, tenderly kissing him and leaving their foreheads pressed against one another.

“It was always going to be this. Us,” and simply because he can, Will swipes another kiss from him, “It was always going to be me and you against everyone against the world.”

Click here if you wanna be added to my taglist. Taglist: @asirensrage @drabbles-mc @ashlingnarcos @narcosfandomdiscord

#narcos #narcos mexico #pacho herrera #pacho herrera x oc #c: will boa vista #narcoctober

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lies · 7 months

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Sometimes when I'm birdwatching

#sometimes when i’m birdwatching #things that aren’t birds #bella vista drive #yacht #i think it's a private yacht?#not a cruise ship?#these days it can be hard to tell #eat the rich #take their boats to provide medical care #and transportation #for displaced orphans #b/c really #if this is your private yacht #you should be taxed at 100% of your net worth #beyond some culturally defined maximum

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kingroup · 5 months

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windows vista　—　stimboard　 ╱　with nothing specified.

—MOD CHARON.　$　 ̖́-

#windows vista kin #computerkin #kin stimboard #kin requests #request #mod c

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sxnnelysister · 1 year

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NEW SINGLE GHESTIES??

#the band ghost #ghost bc #tobias forge #ghost #popia #loma vista recordings #news #this can't be a joke #cardinal popia #cardi c

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deathshallbenomore · 1 year

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#non una mia collega venirsene fuori con ‘il seminario di oggi (il nostro ieri. ndr) non mi è servito a niente perché Io avevo altre cose #da fare cazzo mene dell’argomento’ [argomento = il concetto di memoria nella giustizia penale e nei processi di transizione. anche #costituzionali]#babygirl a) nessuno ti giuro NESSUNO ti ha obbligata ad essere qui a fare questa cosa #b) un* accademic* che non ha curiosità per nulla se sono i due (2) articoli su cui concentra la propria ricerca non vale nulla secondo me #c) è comunque cultura e a giudicare dalle tue (anche altre) uscite non ti farebbe male #d) visto che ti vanti di essere avvocata posso dire di avere paura di un avvocat* (o anche un magistrato comunque) che pratica il diritto #come se le norme fossero un libretto delle istruzioni che non necessità di ulteriori competenze? no perché allora distribuiamo i codici di #*necessitano #cittadinanza e facciamo la giustizia fai da te #(ulteriori competenze nel senso della cultura giuridica che supporta quella più strettamente tecnica)#cioè che schifo sapere delle cose in più conoscere dei punti di vista nuovi e farsi delle idee su temi a cui solitamente non si pensa #che schifo l’attività intellettuale proprio #quest’anno sono veramente andati a cercare col lanternino i peggiori personaggi sul mercato debbo dire #va be mi taccio

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advictoriams · 1 year

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You know how Kiki survived being stabbed by the Nahualli?

MUTATIONS, BAYBEE!!!!

@solarasippinsomesoda @ltcolonelcarter @leelany-world @thirium-800

#you ever just do a mission with your cyborg gf and find out about the mutations she got from a) hauling nuclear waste to Monte Vista.#b) The exposure to FEV in Steelport/Pittsburgh #c) Ultor x Enclave mutation serums #by noticing that she can't actually 'die' because 300% health regen. and sometimes she uh has this issue where she's invisible?#dbh x saints row crossover #dbh x saints row x Fallout #also explains why she can't die when getting hit by cars and ragdolling through the air for money (insurance fraud)#she's always been a mutant babes.

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vigo2023 · 1 month

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#Subiendo por la C./ Ferrol #Parque de Vista Alegre (Finca Simeon)#Calles alrededor de la Catedral #Monumento a Pablo Iglesias

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yonghengdemengxiang · 1 year

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PLEASE LOVE HER???

#LING IS SO CUTE I'M GOING TO C RY!!!!#IS THIS MY 50TH TIME REREADING THIS CHAPTER YES BUT I GOTTA GET SOME ICONS DONE!!!#;;Clouds ranged as billows; Distant run roads withered. I departed of the vistas sailed a ferry in late autumn. [Visage]

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artharakka · 9 months

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Vista, @artist-rat 's character for my ttrpg campaign Llehia 🍂

#Llehia campaign #character sheet #c: Vista #ttrpg #dnd #D&D #dungeons and dragons #they have two lovers and as a DM I took both of them hostage #for motivation #now they are on a guest to get them back and get revenge #artificer #believe or not they just live in the vague bronze/iron age #story: Llehia

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riverwindphotography · 3 months

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Winter Vista - Absaroka Range

#original photographers #mountains #winter #photographers on tumblr #nature

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wilwheaton · 1 year

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favorite goncharov character

Goncharov! Holy shit I haven't thought about Goncharov in YEARS!

I remember seeing it at the Vista theatre downtown in ... I want to say 1983? It was either 82 and I was 10, or 83 and I was 11. Now that I think about it, it must have been Spring of 83. I remember that Kimmy Mendini was my babysitter, and she drove my friend Ahmed and me all the way downtown to see Goncharov. She would have been at least 16, but I feel like she was a little older. I remember that she LOVED movies and just never stopped talking about European cinema.

Ha! I can still her her sort of roll "Cinema" out of her mouth. Movies were for the masses to watch, while sophisticated adults experienced Cinema. I'm just realizing now that she absolutely pronounced it with a capital C. She was like "you are so lucky to see a clean print of Goncharov!"

I had no idea what a clean print was, but I understood it was important and impressive.

She had read about this screening in the LA Weekly, which I didn't know at the time was TREMENDOUSLY subversive in our suburban part of Los Angeles County, and we were going to an old theatre in maybe not the greatest part of town, but Kimmy had been watching me since I was in second grade and was like my big sister. I knew we'd be safe with her.

That old theatre (which is now a fucking swap meet) was just so beautiful inside. 100 foot ceilings, box seats, gold paint and murals. It felt like a place you went to experience Cinema, but, like ... it had absolutely seen better days. I remember that I felt kind of bad for the place, a little embarrassed, like when I got a good grade and accidentally made eye contact with a friend who got a D.

Okay. This clearly hit a memory artery, and I appreciate you staying with me this far, when we finally get to the fireworks factory. We're walking up to the box office, and she tells Ahmed and me that we have to wait on the sidewalk, because *technically* it's rated R, and she's not our legal guardian, but what does this guy making two bucks an hour know about art anyway?

So we wait. She buys the tickets, and then we all walk in as casually as we can.

I remember how scared I was that we were going to get caught and they'd call the cops (that's how it worked in my anxiety-ridden brain), but literally nobody cared. The theatre wasn't even half full, and everyone there was a dude at least as old as my parents.

You know the story, so I don't have to recount all of it, but I can at this very moment remember how shocked I was when Bruno was shot. This was the first time, ever, I had felt an emotional connection to a character. I didn't cry when Bambi's mother was shot, I didn't cry when ET died, I didn't cry E V E R.

But when Bruno died? I didn't make a sound. I just silently wept. Tears just poured down my face and I wanted to roll back time, rewrite the movie, and get him out of that room.

I obviously understand now, all these years later why I connected to him and why his story meant and means so much to me, but at the time I had no idea. I just thought the actors were that good.

I can't believe that guy who played him died so young. I think he was like 40? I remember thinking that was old. Now I know different.

When the movie was over, Kimmy asked us how we liked it. Ahmed was obsessed with the photography (he grew up to be an illustrator), and I obviously had my Bruno Moment.

We got Thrifty ice cream on the way home and listened to Donna Summer in her Datsun.

I haven't thought about Goncharov or Cinema or Kimmy in FOREVER. Leave it to Tumblr to boost my nostalgia check to a natural 20.

tl;dr: Bruno. I know he's supposed to be that character we all hate, and there are so many valid reasons for that. But when I was 12 ... well, I was a different person.

Oh! And now that I know what a "clean print" is, having seen so many "dirty prints" in revival houses before they all turned into swap meets or churches (hey, two places where people sell you stuff and take your money!), I retroactively appreciate it in a way that would make Kimmy happy.

Thanks for the trip into the crumbling mall that is my childhood memories. I haven't been here in awhile and it was nice to visit.

#Goncharov (1973)#goncharov #bruno #yes bruno #unreality

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visit-new-york · 6 months

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Exploring Brooklyn's Icons: A Guide to Empire Stores Dumbo and the Brooklyn Bridge

Brooklyn, New York, is a treasure trove of iconic landmarks and historical sites. Among these, Empire Stores Dumbo and the Brooklyn Bridge stand out as must-visit destinations. Whether you're a local or a tourist, here's everything you need to know about getting to these attractions, navigating the Brooklyn Bridge, and discovering the rich history that surrounds it.

How to get to Empire Stores Dumbo?

Empire Stores, located at 55 Water Street, Brooklyn, NY 11201, is easily accessible by various modes of transportation. If you're using public transit, take the subway to the High Street-Brooklyn Bridge station (A, C trains) and enjoy a picturesque stroll toward the East River. Alternatively, several buses serve the Dumbo area, providing convenient options. If you prefer driving, parking facilities are available in the vicinity.

Are there any restrictions for cyclists on the Brooklyn Bridge?

Cyclists are welcome on the Brooklyn Bridge, and there's a dedicated lane for them. However, it's important to be aware of any restrictions during special events or maintenance periods. Adhering to traffic rules and being mindful of pedestrian traffic ensures a safe and enjoyable ride across this historic bridge.

How many lanes does the Brooklyn Bridge have for vehicular traffic?

The Brooklyn Bridge boasts six lanes for vehicular traffic, with three lanes in each direction. The outer lanes accommodate regular traffic, while the inner lanes are reversible, changing direction based on the time of day to optimize traffic flow.

What is the current condition of the Brooklyn Bridge?

As of the latest available information, the Brooklyn Bridge is generally in good condition. Regular inspections and maintenance work are conducted to preserve its structural integrity. For the most up-to-date information, it's advisable to check with local authorities or official sources.

Are there any interesting events or stories related to the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge?

The construction of the Brooklyn Bridge, spanning from 1869 to 1883, is a tale of engineering marvels and human determination. Notably, Washington Roebling, the chief engineer, faced decompression sickness during construction. His wife, Emily Warren Roebling, played a pivotal role in overseeing the completion of the bridge, a testament to her resilience and dedication.

How many years did it take to build the Brooklyn Bridge?

The Brooklyn Bridge took a total of 14 years to build, showcasing the dedication and perseverance of the individuals involved in this historic project.

Has the Brooklyn Bridge ever undergone significant renovations?

Over the years, the Brooklyn Bridge has undergone significant renovations to ensure its longevity. Preservation efforts focus on maintaining its historic elements while incorporating modern engineering standards to meet safety requirements.

Are there any guided tours available for the Brooklyn Bridge?

Immerse yourself in the history and architecture of the Brooklyn Bridge by taking a guided tour. Several local operators offer insightful tours, providing a deeper understanding of the bridge's significance. Check with local tour providers or visitor centers for the latest information on available tours.

Can you see the Statue of Liberty from the Brooklyn Bridge?

While the Brooklyn Bridge offers breathtaking views of the Manhattan skyline, keen observers can catch glimpses of the Statue of Liberty from certain points along the bridge. The panoramic vista makes the bridge a unique vantage point for appreciating this iconic symbol.

Are there any special events or celebrations held on the Brooklyn Bridge?

The Brooklyn Bridge occasionally hosts special events, celebrations, and festivals. Fireworks displays, cultural events, and charity walks are just a few examples of the diverse activities that take place on or around the bridge. Stay updated on local event listings for information on upcoming activities.

In conclusion, exploring Empire Stores Dumbo and the Brooklyn Bridge is a journey through history and modernity. Whether you're fascinated by the engineering prowess of the bridge or captivated by the events surrounding its construction, Brooklyn's iconic landmarks promise an enriching experience for every visitor.

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pondysselth · 3 months

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Así de caluroso || Enzo Vogrincic

El sol del mediodía caía a plomo sobre las calles de Montevideo, convirtiendo el asfalto en un espejismo humeante. El miércoles transcurría como cualquier otro día de verano, sofocante e implacable. A pesar del calor agobiante, una chica caminaba con paso ligero por 18 de Julio, alejándose de la facultad. El pelo se le pegaba a la frente, sudaba a chorros y el agua de su botella se había convertido en un caldo tibio. La libertad después de un largo examen era la recompensa que la impulsaba.

Cada paso era una lucha contra el calor. La chica apresuraba el ritmo buscando la sombra esquiva, deseando escapar de las fauces de la ciudad que tanto amaba.

De pronto, un leve malestar se apoderó de ella. El sudor se intensificó, la respiración se volvió dificultosa y un mareo familiar la amenazó. Se detuvo, tambaleándose, con la vista nublada y puntos negros danzando en su campo visual. Ignorando las señales de alarma, bebió un trago de la repugnante agua tibia y reanudó la marcha. Su única meta: salir de 18 de Julio. A duras penas, avanzó unas cuadras más, luchando contra un nuevo malestar que se instalaba en su cuerpo.

Allí mostrándose casi burlona detrás de esa inmensa puerta de concreto que se alzaba sobre la calle Juncal se encontraba uno de sus deleites visuales favoritos, Sarandí. Ella no sabía por qué, pero esa calle siempre la llamaba a explorarla. Aunque ya la había recorrido tantas veces, siempre encontraba algún tesoro nuevo. Se debatió si debía pasar por lo que ya era el desolado calderón a fuego ardiente de la Plaza Independencia para llegar a ese oasis visual que le abría paso a Ciudad Vieja o simplemente ignorarlo e irse a casa.

La exuberante calidez de la tarde le gritaba a la chica que debía ignorar el llamado a la exploración. Sin embargo, una fuerza interior, una mezcla de aventura y algo más que no podía nombrar, la incitaba a seguir adelante. Como diablillos en el infernal ambiente, sus deseos la empujaban por ese camino que solo le estaba trayendo malestares. Ignorando las señales de su cuerpo, que no estaba preparado para resistir más tiempo en esas condiciones, se decantó por seguir la incitación diabólica y entrar en el paraíso que era la calle Sarandí.

Arrastrando los pies como si una cadena de acero los uniera al suelo, se adentró en ese rincón de alegría que tanto la llamaba. Caminó unas pocas cuadras, disfrutando del pequeño oasis que se abría paso en el desierto de calor que se había apoderado de Montevideo. De repente, un golpe seco: su corazón aceleró a un ritmo desbocado, su respiración se volvió jadeante, su visión se nubló y su cabeza comenzó a dar vueltas. La conciencia se le escapaba de entre los dedos. Así se sentía: una bajada de presión producto de su insensato deseo de continuar un camino que no debería haber tomado, en un día en el que el mismísimo señor de los infiernos parecía haberse apoderado de las calles de la ciudad. Su destino: caer desmayada por su imprudencia.

—Tranquila, que te tengo.

Esa voz no era producto de su imaginación. Los brazos que la rodeaban eran demasiado cálidos y sudorosos, evidenciando que el desconocido también sufría las consecuencias del avasallante calor que emitía el asfalto. A pesar de que la conciencia se le escapaba, de que sus ojos se cerraban y dejaban de transmitir luz, la sensación de estar en los brazos de un extraño la obligaba a volver a la realidad, alerta ante un posible infortunio. Cuando el instinto de supervivencia se apoderó de su cuerpo y abrió los ojos con miedo, se topó con un ángel. El calor se disipó de su cuerpo al contemplar sus ojos color avellana, la sensación de sudor se olvidó con solo una mirada a sus labios, el mareo se ignoró por completo al observar su rostro como un todo. Enzo Vogrincic, en todo su angelical ser, la sostenía para evitar que cayera en la fogosa calle Sarandí.

—No te preocupes que te ayudo a sentarte.

Su voz me sacó de mis pensamientos, esta vez infinitamente menos agónicos. Me tomó con delicadeza y me llevó unos metros hacia atrás, hacia unas sillas de plástico rojas, no muy cómodas, con el logotipo de una conocida marca de bebidas. Estaban fuera de un local llamado Zabala. Solo allí me di cuenta de la distancia que mis pies, que ya se podían haber fundido con el asfalto, me habían llevado. Estábamos cerca del Registro Civil y a unos pocos metros del Implosivo Artes Escénicas, la escuela de actuación. He ahí esclarecida la aparición de mi inesperado ángel salvador. Con mi mente retornando de su estado de inactividad coherente lo primero que atiné a decirle a mi salvador fue.

—Perdón.

Una simple palabra, tan tonta que parecía fuera de lugar. Sin embargo, así me sentía: avergonzada de haberlo desviado de su camino. Posiblemente le molestaba ayudar a una desconocida que caminaba imprudentemente bajo el sol abrasador, con la única compañía de una cartera que contenía sus documentos para el examen, una tarjeta de transporte y su fiel botella de agua, que ahora parecía más una sopa por lo caliente que estaba.

La risa de mi nuevo acompañante me confirmó lo tonta que había sido mi respuesta. Doblemente avergonzada, lo miré a los ojos. Solo vi diversión por mis palabras y preocupación por mi extrema palidez y mi inminente desmayo.

—¿Cómo me vas a pedir perdón? ¿Te sentís mejor ahora sentada? Te voy a comprar un refresco y un agua fría, porque estoy seguro que te bajó la presión.

El hombre se irguió, enderezando su espalda, y se dirigió al restaurante con paso firme. Su objetivo era claro: conseguir las bebidas que me ayudarían a reponerme. Al cabo de unos minutos, regresó con un refresco y un agua fría. Se agachó de nuevo junto a mí, ofreciéndome el elixir que mi cuerpo, agradecido, absorbió con avidez.

—Muchísimas gracias, y te pido perdón por las molestias. Seguro tenías otras cosas que hacer más que asistir a una pelotuda que se desmayó.

Dije con pena, mirándolo a sus ojos marrones. Sentía cómo me ardían las mejillas. Solo entonces, al contemplar mi alrededor, me percaté de la bicicleta olvidada en el piso. Probablemente se había bajado de ella al verme en mi estado.

—No me agradezcas, solo hice algo que cualquiera haría.

Expresó mientras se giraba para buscar la bicicleta. Al levantarla, se regresó hacia mí y me dijo:

—Me llamo Enzo. ¿Y vos?

Le dije mi nombre con más confianza al ver que no parecía molesto ni apurado por irse. Le señalé el refresco, aún sin abrir, ofreciéndoselo.

—Eso es tuyo, no me lo tenés que devolver. Si yo fuera vos, también tomaría de ese. El azúcar te va a ayudar a recuperarte, todavía estás muy pálida. Si me permitís.

Con esa simple petición de consentimiento, acercó su mano a mi rostro apartando algunos cabellos que se me habían pegado por el sudor, aquellos que mi peinado no había podido contener y ahora se posaban rebeldes por donde ellos deseaban. Luego de poner mis cabellos en orden, su mano se quedó allí, posada en mi cuello. La sensación de tener aquel pesado miembro cerca de donde se medía mi pulso me inquietaba. ¿Y si podía sentir el acelerado ritmo al que iba mi corazón? Su rostro tan perfecto no era lo único que me embobaba; su amabilidad y sencillez con la que estaba allí delante de mí me estaba dejando el cerebro aún más atrofiado que cualquier síntoma debido al infernal clima.

Tomando otro largo trago de agua para disipar los efectos que él estaba teniendo en mí, tomé valor, lo miré a los ojos y le dije:

—Muchísimas gracias otra vez. Siento que te lo estoy diciendo ya muchas veces, pero de verdad estoy agradecida con tu gesto. Pudiste haberme ignorado y dejarme tirada en la calle, y no lo hiciste.

—No tenés nada que agradecerme. Decime, ¿vivís por acá? Así te acompaño y me quedo tranquilo de que llegaste bien.

Me respondió aún con su mano posada delicadamente sobre mi cuello, dejándole leves caricias y sus ojos mirándome fijamente, entre preocupados y con algo parecido a ternura.

—No vivo por acá, ni cerca. Solo vine porque acabo de dar un examen y quería recorrer. Iba super bien hasta hace unos momentos.

Ya dejando un poco de lado la vergüenza, le respondí un poco más animada y sin tanta timidez. Tanta, ya que tener a alguien tan bonito enfrente de ella solo hacia que se pusiera nerviosa.

—Ok, sin ser muy invasivo, ¿dónde vivís? Tal vez te puedo llevar o algo. Me preocupa que te vayas sola después de que casi te desmayas. Si querés, llamamos a alguna amiga o alguien que te venga a buscar.

—Vivo en Manga, así que un poco lejos de acá. Y mis amigas en estos momentos...

Dije entre risas, diciendo donde vivía y luego chequeando la hora: 16:04. Para saber dónde podrían estar alguna de mis amigas para contestarle.

—Mis amigas están todas trabajando, así que no queda de otra que irme sola. Quedate tranquilo que no me va a pasar nada.

Le contesté intentando calmarlo y asegurarle de que todo estaría bien y no me volvería a pasar nada.

—Te invitaría a mi casa, pero siento que para un primer encuentro es mucho. Me conformo por ahora acompañándote a tomar el bondi.

Volviendo por la calle Sarandí, por la tan calurosa Ciudad Vieja. Ese tipo de calor que hacía que el asfalto derritiera el calzado y definitivamente el tipo de calor que hace que se te baje la presión y encuentres a Enzo, quien ahora te tiene montada en su bicicleta mientras ambos ríen y disfrutan el pequeño aire que les llega por la velocidad con la que conduce el antes mencionado. Ese era el tipo de día caluroso que hacía aquel día en Montevideo.

#enzo vogrincic #la sociedad de la nieve #the society of the snow #matias recalt #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic x you #fem!reader #enzo vogrincic fluff #evogrincicedit #enzo vogrincic one shot #enzo vogrincic fanfic #enzo vogrincic fic

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