#david barrón

[ashlingnarcos]

blood on vacation

David Barrón/F!Reader

written for @narcosfandomdiscord's smut alphabet, namely the July 2 prompt blood

tags: fistfight, absolutely unhinged preoccupation with bloody knuckles, fingering, oral sex

warnings: blood, probably unsanitary, reader is an OFC (Sabrina Tanaka), violence, this was not beta read and it kind of sucks ngl

length: 1.8k words

You’ve only been Mexico City for a week, and you’re already all vacationed out. It’s not Marcela’s fault. The two of you make no sense as friends—she, the trust fund kid formerly known as Marcelo who initially met you at your dad’s jiu jitsu academy, currently partying her way across the globe with an increasingly dodgy set of cousins, exes, and assorted other rich vagabonds, and then you, the standoffish sparring tutor forever known as Mr. Tanaka’s kid, with an unhealthy penchant for taking your skills to street wanderings, just to see if you could. She was whimsical and merry, spiritually curious and given to bouts of dangerously committed romantic pining, and you were stolid and practical and highly suspicious of anyone as eager to please as a car salesman, much less a preacher or supposed future lover. The one similarity between the two of you is that you both were born and raised in São Paulo, and could both kick hard enough to break bones. But the rest? Pure opposites attract chemistry. 

She’s been generous on this trip, doing the rich girl thing in splendid style, and footing the bill for your part completely. She translates for you whenever she sees you getting lost—Brazilian Portuguese is similar enough to Mexican Spanish that you can kinda sorta understand what people are saying if they’re saying it slowly and doing overtime with the nonverbal cues—and does it naturally, not like it’s a chore or an opportunity to show off. She introduces you to her club kid friends with excitement, like she’s showing them someone really cool. She’s a sweetheart, Marcela is, and you’re more than happy to wingwoman her into a spot sitting on the lap of some baby narco named Ramón. But the good food aside, you’re still so alienated and bored that when a fistfight breaks out in the club, it come as a welcome change of pace.

There’s broken glass on the ground—Ramón’s older sister smashed a bottle over somebody’s head, good for her—so no ground fighting for you. And there’s too many people around to dedicate yourself to a hold. So you fall back on a motley bag of street fighting tricks, plus what you learned from a misspent summer at a boxing club, mostly just trying to stay upright and get your licks in where you can. It’s all fun and games until one of them slaps you, open palm. A punch would’ve been fine, but this? You hit his nose with the base of your palm, driving up to break it, then follow that up with a jab. Not satisfied yet, you sweep one of his feet out from under him, shove hard, and finally get him on the ground (broken glass be damned) in a hold that has him gasping fruitlessly for oxygen, his neck in the crook of your arm, his body trying to wriggle round and find an angle at which his elbow shots to your ribs will actually mean something. Unfortunately for him, when you’re pissed off, you could take it all the way to fully broken ribs and not care. Fortunately for him, nobody there actually wants anyone to die, so after a bit, several people pull you off him. One of them is Marcela, so you give it up. The fight has died down anyways; both sides are separating into bloodstained, wary-eyed groups. 

Keeping steady eye contact with the man who slapped you, you lift your bloody-knuckled hand to your mouth, part your lips, and lick a long stripe of his blood off your skin. Slow and intentional and savagely self-satisfied. 

As you turn to talk to Marcela, ask her where the bathrooms are so you can clean yourself up a little (Ramón is already yelling about partying the whole night through, and Marcela seems completely unruffled, so you doubt you’re all about to leave now), you catch a glimpse of something. Everyone here is preoccupied with their injuries, or other people’s, or the retreating crowd of interlopers, except for one man who seems to have witnessed your last threat. He’s dressed a little different than the others, in an oversized polo shirt. You remember getting a glimpse of him in the fight, thinking you might need to take him on next and grimly assessing that prospect as a dangerous one before he easily elbowed a guy who was heading for Ramón’s brother. So he’s not useless, and he’s not easily cowed. Just now, he’s looking back at your challenge of a glance with a flat-eyed expression that you can’t quite parse.

Hm.

No language in common and barely any friends, but you wanted a kill and you didn’t get one, and here’s another man. You’ll have to make do with another kind of death.

.

.

.

Inside the club bathroom, he hooks his fingers over the top of your jeans and tugs you forwards a couple inches. Commanding, but not a threat. Not trying to make you stumble, just getting you that much closer.

Regarding him with a curious, almost lazy look, you’re almost inclined to let him have his way, but then, as he goes to unbutton your jeans, his knuckles smear blood along your stomach. You close your hands over his wrists, and he pauses. 

“Go wash your hands,” you say, slow and clear, lave as mãos. And he gets it.

You know he gets it, because he looks down at your hands, your bruised, swollen, bloody hands, and then back up at you in a way that makes his blank expression rather pointed. Oh, does the international man of mystery have a sense of humor after all?

“Do it,” you say, faça isso. That must not be close enough to Spanish, because he frowns a little. You give up. 

You pull his hands out of your jeans, feeling a shiver go through you at the friction, and then you let go of him, walk over to the sink, and turn on the tap. As you lean back against it, the countertop digs into your thighs, suggestive. The dull pulsing thump of the club music outside gives the tiny bathroom a cloistered, cocooned quality. His dark eyes meet yours evenly. 

You don’t move, don’t so much as lift an eyebrow. Silent. Yeah?

Yeah. He takes a couple steps forward and washes his hands, and as he does so he mutters something to himself in yet another language, English, maybe. As he dries his hands, he smiles. It’s a wry, private smile. 

Two can play at that game. In your mediocre, third-generation Japanese, you say, “I have every intention of eating you whole” in exactly the same voice another woman might’ve said something sexy.

As he steps towards you, you could swear he says something that sounds like gostaria, dangerously close to I would like that, almost like he understands you.

You decide: no more talking.

Zero to a hundred. He tastes like beer and you, unfortunately, can’t get enough; your hands cup the back of his head, his neck, fingertips digging in as he finally unbuttons your jeans and shoves them and your panties down your thighs in one impatient motion. You could hop up onto the countertop, but why do that? This way is so much better, his wet hands gripping your ass, the swift coolness of droplets sliding down the back of your thighs, the low grunt he makes when he lifts you. 

“Sorry, was that hard for you?” you say, but he’s two steps ahead of you. Got his palms warm on the inside of your knees, spreading your thighs and catching sight of just how wet you are for him. It’s his turn to be smug, clearly, but you can’t even be mad at it when he wears that smile so well. 

He gets on his knees. 

You should’ve known it’d be like this from the second you caught his eye in the aftermath of the fight. You really should’ve known, but it still punches an unwanted sound out of you, a small sound in the back of your throat, when he gets his face between your thighs in seconds, no hesitation, and starts to lick your cunt like it’s ice cream and he’s starving. 

With the countertop digging into your legs and the mirror hard against the back of your head, your body throbbing with new bruises, you have no right to feel this good, but you do. With your fingers sunk into his hair and your eyes half-lidded, you feel like you could melt and slip right down that drain. For his part, he’s got you just how he wants you, with your legs parted wide to accommodate the width of his shoulders, his right forearm a bar across your belly. You have no fucking idea how or why he’s doing this—men who see you gone full destroyer don’t usually think to themselves, I want to make her feel good, they tend to think along much darker lines. They want to dominate you, and you get what fun you can out of the process of denying them that. But this? He got on his knees like it was his first choice. You do not know what this is, but you’ll take it. He slips a finger inside you, and you’re so wet that it barely burns at all. Two fingers. Fuck. He leans his weight into your stomach, across your thighs, to stop you from bucking up into his mouth, and that’s—that’s fair. It’s all you can do not to whimper, and your heavy panting sounds desperate enough. Three fingers and you do whimper.

He looks up, and you’re already bracing yourself, but no. There’s no sneer in it; there’s something else. All night, this nameless man has been quiet, unnoticeable, and then, once noticed,  mysterious, but now you see him. The first look is caution, but the second? The second is all appreciation, like he could drink the sight. 

That look hits you hard. You close your eyes, because you don’t want to see it, don’t know what the hell to do with it, and choose instead to sink deep into the sensations in your body as he wrings you out. A wave of euphoria hits you as you come, and it’s just the body, you know it’s just the body, but when it’s over and he has his chin propped up on your thigh, both of you looking exhausted, neither of you done, you get the weirdest urge to push his sweat-damp hair off his forehead. Little killer, you want to say. Damn near affectionate. (It’s just the body.)

.

.

.

The cops arrive at the club before you can manage to return the favor, and Marcela hates all interactions with the cops with a flaming passion, so you have to get her out even though in all likelihood Ramón will just have to flash them a medium-size wad of bills. Later, though, when you can, you confess all (most) of the strange encounter to her, and she gets the message out to him. Through which of the tiny terrors, you don’t want to know. Probably Ramón, a thought that does not fill you with confidence. But he gets the message anyway.

The message is: I owe you one.

#David Barrón x reader #Narcos mexico #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico readerfic #David Barrón #mine #nffalphabet #well. that happened. #was it good? no but we gotta make progress somehow. gotta start somewhere. etc

[hausofmamadas]

| So much for my nine lives |

⁂

Pairing: David Barrón Corona & Benjamín Arellano Félix (Midnight Mass Vampire-ish AU)

For @narcosfandomdiscord NarcOctober - Day 30 - Day of Amnesty (originally Day 29 - Day of Horror)

Prompt: Came back wrong

Word count: ≈ 1.2K

TWs: Canon-consistent & vampire-related(?) violence

This was the part in the all movies where the person in my position comes to the horrible realization at what he is and what he has to do. So this is like … kinda Barrón and Mín in the universe of Midnight Mass or really like the vampire lore of Midnight Mass applied Narcos Mexico? Anyway, this is just a fun spooky, lil ditty I did. Enjoy Mín finally giving Barrón everything he ever wanted. Spoiler alert: it’s not the eternal life that matters.

⁂

Shocked awake, I sat forward sucking in deep, sweeping gusts of air that crackled through my chest, inflating my collapsed lungs. Like they were two dusty, burlap sacks, the air dragged in and out so sharply and painfully I began to cough. My shirt was caked with dust and dried blood that looked almost purple in the orange menace of the pre-dusk sun. I looked down and at the trail my body had made. Must’ve been when they dragged me into the cave.

But I was dead. Dead just then and I knew it. Now I wasn’t though. I came back somehow. Only, I came back wrong.

I remembered little before I died but the commotion at the cafe. Panicked crowd, a few rounds ejected from my gun, as I grabbed Benjamín by the collar of his jacket, screaming, “we gotta go!” and ran toward safety.

Safety. A funny word to describe Ramón and Kitty, two flashily dressed gangsters, semi autos in hand, beckoning to us from the corner where the street met the back alley road, the curb of which the Escalade was parked on. We’d been so close. I’d shoved Mín in front of me and turned around to return fire at the crowd of fatigues surrounding the armored truck across the street, just before I felt the bullet enter my chest. Then another just under my ribs.

The thing no one ever tells you about getting shot? When a projectile traveling at 1700 miles per hour enters the human body, what you feel first is the shock wave. It juggernauts through you, traversing through muscles, tissue, your very cells, so fast and forcefully, the feeling’s more akin to electrocution. It was a miracle my heart was still beating as the ground came up at me, fast, before I sank into the black.

So much for my nine lives.

Shielding my eyes from the stray beams of sun that peeked through the cracks of the cave entrance, I took a lighter from my pocket and lit it turning to face the dark side of the cave and get a better look at who or what might be inside.

Which one of them would’ve done it? Definitely not Ramón. Not enough self-control. I would’ve been an unintended afternoon snack. Hope would suggest Pancho or Dina, but common sense would suggest otherwise. The only one among them who had been at the cafe with the strength and self-restraint to do it without killing me more dead than I already was could only be Benjamín.

And yet, it was hard to imagine him, sour, overly-critical, Motherest-of-Mother-Hens, Mín valuing me enough to offer up eternity, even if he did owe me his life, what with everything I did for them that night at Christine’s. I rolled my eyes. And that was without an immortal advantage.

With a sly undertone of acknowledgment, almost an echo with my disbelief, Mín’s voice rang out from the shadows that clung to the cave walls. “Tus ojos. Se brillan como se supone que deben hacerlo.”

The eyeshine of a cat. How unsettling it had been the first time I’d caught it in Dina’s eyes. Mistook them for headlights in the lamplight of the warehouse parking lot when we were chatting shit some late night, after they’d finished the count. I’d read somewhere, probably in one of the hundreds of books I devoured, trying to fend off brain rot and existential dread in a cell at Donovan, that it was called tapetum lucidum. An extra shiny layer in the eyes of cats and other nocturnal animals that helped them see in the dark.

“What happened?”

“Your ability to maintain your composure under the strangest, most precarious of circumstances never ceases to amaze us.”

It wasn’t altogether clear if Mín was speaking for the family or if there was actually someone else there with us, the place was so dark. But as soon as I opened my mouth to ask, I was doubled over, a jagged pain drilling relentlessly into my gut, tunneling through my chest, all the way up my esophagus and into my throat. My face was close enough to the ground, the breath I expelled violently kicked dust back up into my face. The flame from the lighter snuffed out when it hit the ground next to me.

“Yeah, you’re going to need to remedy that.”

I let out a grim, stuttering chuckle that could’ve been mistaken for the growl of an animal who just felt the hinges give way, the bar of a trap finally slamming down on its neck.

This was the part in the all movies where the person in my position comes to the horrible realization at what he is and what he has to do. The part where they’re supposed to freak out, panic, clam up at the idea of killing as a way of life. But the sick thing? This wasn’t a movie and I felt not an ounce of guilt or fear at the prospect. I’d been taking human life to live for decades now. No sense in an apex predator apologizing for assuming the nature of its design. Shit, it’s not like I made the rules.

A faint skittering sound along the edge of the walls jackhammered my eardrums and before coherent thought could be formed, the soft warmth of light and heaven itself burst into my mouth, soothing the ragged itch at the back of my throat. Blood from some poor, unfortunate little rodent that had made a home in the cool of the cave leaked all over my hands, as I drew from it; hose from a hydrant.

Benjamín stepped off the wall, where he’d been standing for who knows how long and circled me slowly, waiting for me to finish. When the critter’s body finally hit the ground, he clapped a few times, observing, “Pues eso fue fácil, verdad?”

Sighing wearily, “sí, fue tan fácil,” I wiped the blood from my chin with the back of my hand.

Closing the loop, Mín approached me where I sat, still kneeling on the ground over the critter’s carcass, and picked up the lighter. He flicked it open. Light materialized next to his face, the flame illuminating his eyes, activating that telltale glow of Other. That glow which I now apparently shared with him and the rest of the Arellano siblings.

Eyes boring into his, I addressed him direct, “Why exactly am I here, Benjamín,” landing on his first name pointedly. A name I rarely used out of fear, or maybe respect, or maybe just the desire to avoid whatever grief he might be prepared to dish out to me. What was the point now? As far as I was concerned, there was none. Not when we had forever to fight. But Mín didn’t look like he was fixin’ to fight right now.

“I brought you back.”

Annoying. Not really an answer and my face said just as much.

“I brought you back because we cannot afford to lose an asset such as yourself.” Mín continued, gazing into the fire like he was some kind of ancient sorcerer, divining an answer from it, “Por muchas razones y en muchas ocasiones,” then flicked the lighter closed, “ya has demostrado lo que vales demasiado que te perdamos ahorita. And with our enemies outnumbering us, we need more than just soldiers.”

I blinked back at him slowly, almost lazy but with evident curiosity because I had no idea what the fuck he meant and I was starting to get tired and that burning in my throat was kicking up again.

He stood up, dusted off his pants, and walked toward the entrance of the cave, voice bouncing off the stony walls and getting smaller and smaller the further away he got.

“Y’know if I learned anything from my uncle’s hubris, it’s that when your back’s against the wall, the only loyalty guaranteed is that of family. And since I brought you back, the blood in your veins is blood we share.”

Just when he reached the threshold, sky outside now darkened red by the last of the sunset, Mín turned around holding out the lighter in his hand. Extended, as if to summon me. “That is what you are now, Barrón. Family.”

═

taglist: @narcosfandomdiscord, @narcolini, @ashlingnarcos, @artemiseamoon,@drabbles-mc

#david barrón & benjamín arellano félix #david barrón #benjamín arellano félix #narcoctober #day of amnesty #not me just pretending like it’s still yesterday #pretending like amnesty day is every day #narcos mexico #narcos #vampire au #midnight mass rules #narcos fandom discord #day 30 #david barrón corona #benjamin arellano felix

[narcosfandomdiscord]

narcos fandom smut alphabet - finished!

you know what goes really well with summer sunshine and narcos tv rewatches? SMUTTY FIC!

(they put that bisexual lighting on Isabella for a reason, after all!)

this was our first month of prompts over at @narcosfandomdiscord! for every letter of the alphabet, we had two smutty prompts that fanfic writers used for inspiration. 🥰 our group ambition was to create at least one fic per letter—26 new narcos smut fics during the month of July—and we totally smashed it, in large part thanks to prolific work from @salt-is-a-terrible-currency. happy reading!

if you prefer reading on ao3, check out our collection. all fics tagged as #nffalphabet on tumblr. and it's just that simple 🥰

if you have any questions, you can message us on tumblr or join our narcos fandom discord here!

🍰 Prompt List & Fic Masterlist 🍰

July 1 — A — angry sex, anal

Right For Once by @drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, angry sex, 2.3k

Infuriating by @salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, angry sex, 1.5k

Our Man In Mexico by @hausofmamadas — Horacio Carrillo x Andrea Nuñez, angry sex, 2.5k

July 2 — B — blood, bound & begging

Final Warning by @purplesong1028 — Amado x Pacho, bound & begging, 490

Please (with your finger) by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, bound & begging, 1.2k

blood on vacation by @ashlingnarcos — David Barrón x f!Reader, blood, 1.8k

July 3 — C — cuffs, choking

If I go too far by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, choking, 737

mentirosos by @narcolini — Kitty Paez x gn!Reader, cuffs, 1.1k

July 4 — D — domesticity, “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us.”

Taking Care by drabbles-mc — Diego Ramirez (Narcos OC) x F!Reader, domesticity, 2.1k

Lipstick's smudged by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, domesticity and “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us", 447

A Few Moments by @purplesong1028 — Miguel Félix/Pacho Herrera, “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us", 482

July 5 — E — edging, eldritch

The first time I felt a ghost by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, eldritch, 716

July 6 — F — fight or fuck?, friends with benefits

No relationship talk by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, friends with benefits, 422

Unbroken Rules by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, friends with benefits, 2.9k

July 7 — G — gag/gagging, gun play

Paper-thin walls by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, gag/gagging, 361

Whatever He Wants by purplesong1028 — Amado Carrillo Fuentes x Miguel Félix, gun play, 416

July 8 — H — honor bondage, hatesex

Dress blues by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader x Gurney Halleck, honor bondage, 1.8k

THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US by hausofmamadas — Enedina Arellano x David Barrón, honor bondage, 2k

July 9 — I — infidelity, in public

Never meet your heroes by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, in public, 955

Don't Mention It by drabbles-mc — Javier Peña x f!Reader, infidelity and in public, 2.7k

No Strong Suit by purplesong1028 — Miguel Félix x Pacho Herrera, infidelity, 439

July 10 — J — jealousy, "just shut up already"

Unprofessional by drabbles-mc — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, jealousy, 4.3k

A bad idea by @artemiseamoon — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, jealousy, 2.3k

The ring by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, jealousy, 1.1k

July 11 — K — knotting, knocked up

Which time? by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, knocked up, 418

Secrets in the night by artemiseamoon — Horacio Carrillo x Original Female Character, knocked up, 3.5k

Someday When It's Over by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x Original Female Character, knocked up, 2.8k

July 12 — L — luxury, lingerie

Eres guapa by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, lingerie, 544

Desire by artemiseamoon — Enedina Arellano x Original Female Character, lingerie and luxury, 3.9k

Round-trip Ticket by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x Original Female Character, lingerie, 7.7k

July 13 — M — mirrors, "make me forget (all about him/her/it/them)"

Another brick in the wall by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, make me forget, 812

Favors Owed by drabbles-mc — Maria Elvira x gn!Reader, make me forget, 2.7k

Like Old Times by artemiseamoon — Judy Moncada x Original Female Character, mirrors, 1.4k

July 14 — N — nipple play, "no one does it like you"

No One Like You by drabbles-mc — Javier Peña x f!Reader, no one does it like you, 2k

Sore by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, nipple play, 580

July 15 — O — on all fours, one night stand

Cascade by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, one night stand, 580

July 16 — P — praise kink, pulling hair

Dress blues, pt 2 by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader x Gurney Halleck, praise kink, 404

July 17 — Q — quiet (or trying to be), quickie

Sweet, sharp, addictive by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, quiet (or trying to be) and quickie, 464

July 18 — R — role reversal, ruined

Bad Guy Treatment by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, role reversal, 3.8k

What is she to him by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, ruined, 444

July 19 — S — submit, "say my name"

Stoke the flames by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, submit, 387

July 20 — T — trapped together, tied up

On company time by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, trapped together, 574

July 21 — U — upper hand, underwater

The Weight of It All by drabbles-mc — Walt Breslin x Sal Orozco, underwater, 2k

he keeps his rules. you keep him. by ashlingnarcos — Horacio Carrillo x gn!Reader, upper hand, 1.1k

Polkadots by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, underwater, 359

July 22 — V — virginity (loss or roleplay), video

Off the Backburner by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, virginity, 4.1k

In this moment of pretend by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, virginity roleplay, 435

July 23 — W — "we probably shouldn't do this", worship

Stay A Little Longer by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, "we probably shouldn't do this", 1.5k

Lunch break daydream by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, "we probably shouldn't do this", 497

July 24 — X — exhibitionism, exes having sex

It's complicated by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Helena, exes having sex, 971

Not Yours Anymore by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x Original Female Character, exes having sex, 3.2k

no witness by ashlingnarcos — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, exes having sex, 2.4k

July 25 — Y — yearning, "you look good like this"

Superman (4) by @garbinge — Javier Peña x f!Reader, "you look good like this", 5k

Lost Time by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, yearning, 2.9k

If he closes his eyes by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, yearning, 442

July 26 — Z — zipper, zeal

Things Like That by drabbles-mc — Danilo Garza x f!Reader, zipper, 2k

Zealot by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader and Nathan "Cable" Summers from Deadpool x f!Reader, zeal, 4k

(note: we hit the link limit on this post so from now on, links will be to fics + to authors on their first appearance.)

#narcos mexico #narcos #narcos imagine #narcos fanfiction #nffalphabet

[gacmediadaily]

Grab a pumpkin spice latte and your coziest sweater, because Great American Family is bringing all the fall goodness to a TV near you!

PEOPLE can exclusively reveal that the family-oriented network's second annual "Great American Autumn" event is back as of Sept. 2 with seven new original movie premieres debuting through mid-October.

The beloved stars in this year's roster including 90210 alums Trevor Donovan and Jessica Lowndes. The two costars — who briefly played love interests on The CW hit — will be reuniting for A Harvest Homecoming later this month.

Jodie Sweetin, Danica McKellar, Camilla Belle and Dancing with the Stars pro Gleb Savchenko are also among the stars joining in on the fall fun.

See the full schedule — along with the network's descriptions — below.

Saturday, Sept. 2: Learning to Love, starring Ina Barrón and Philip Boyd — Harry (Boyd) and his two daughters lose faith after his wife and daughters' mom dies. The family then hires a nanny and is pleasantly surprised by Steph (Barrón), who brings never-ending warmth, positivity and faith into the home.

Saturday, Sept. 9: Love Can Surprise You, starring Camilla Belle and David Lafontaine — Carina (Belle) writes a popular love and romance relationship column and is known as an expert in her field. When her boyfriend breaks up with her on the night she thought he'd propose, Carina begins questioning if she actually knows anything about love. Enter new writing partner Liam Snyder (Lafontaine), who ends up helping Carina rewrite her love story.

Saturday, Sept. 16: Craft Me A Romance, starring Jodie Sweetin and Brent Bailey — Nicole Borden (Sweetin), the owner of a quaint arts and crafts store called The Crafty Companion, is faced with an ultimatum when the owner of Mitchell’s Art and Craft Supplies (Bailey) tells her she must either sell her store or be forced out of business.

 

Saturday, Sept. 23: Haven't Met Yet, starring Merritt Patterson and Joshua Sasse — Lucy Marks (Patterson) is a professional matchmaker. When Lucy meets a handsome businessman (Sasse), she feels the spark of love for the first time, only to have her hopes dashed when she learns the man is her next client.

 

Saturday, Sept. 30: A Harvest Homecoming, starring Jessica Lowndes and Trevor Donovan — teacher Drew Granger (Donovan) accepts a temporary substitute job in his old hometown of Chestnut Hollow, Texas, where he meets Aiden, the proverbial new kid at school, desperate for a caring friend. While he would rather have taken a job anywhere else, Drew reconsiders Chestnut Hollow when he meets Lainie Abbott (Lowndes), the new manager of his parents' massive apple orchard and cider mill business, and more importantly, Aiden's mom.

Saturday, Oct. 7: Swing Into Romance, starring Danica McKellar, David Hayden-Jones and Gleb Savchenko — When former dancer Christine Sims (McKellar) temporarily returns to her hometown in time for the town's fall festival, she discovers her family's general store is in trouble. In her efforts to save the business, Christine will need to dust off those dancing shoes one more time, face her ex-fiancė and maybe find love in the process (Hayden-Jones).

Saturday, Oct. 14: Mystery By the Book, starring Alicia Dea Josipovic and Corey Sevier — A bookstore owner (Sevier) is in a difficult relationship with a book cover model (Josipovic) until an antique key found in a false book unlocks their romance.

#great american family #danica mckellar #merritt patterson #david haydn jones #jessica lowndes #trevor donovan #learning to love #love can surprise you #craft me a romance #haven't met yet #a harvest homecoming #swing into romance #mystery by the book

[meeedeee]

The Bodyguard but make it...drugs? | Dinarrón | Blue Jeans by Lana Del Rey (AU FANVID)

Fandoms: Narcos (TV), Narcos: Mexico (TV)

No Archive Warnings Apply

Enedina Arellano Felix/David Barron Corona

Enedina Arellano Felix/David Barron

Dina Arellano Felix/David Barron

Dinarron

Enedina Arellano Félix

David Barrón Corona

in no way did i spend...

like 2 straight days and nights working on this video

and in no way did i only sleep for like six hours in that same span of time

also can we talk about the part where 'Barron' looks like he's yelling

and pointing at Dina

but then she shuts him down

and his finger wilts like a sad flower

but we all know something else prob wasn't wilting like a sad flower

makes 'you like krabby patties' spongebob face

sksksk like if you catch my drift

so like basically what i'm saying is that her shutting him down

made that D rock solid

okay just felt like i needed to spell it out in case you were confused

Narcos - Freeform

Narcos Mexico

enedina arellano felix - Freeform

david barron corona - Freeform

dinarron - Freeform

(Feed generated with FetchRSS) source https://archiveofourown.org/works/40880193

#ao3feed #fanvid

[diarioelpepazo]

Patrick Crusius, de 24 años, recibe el castigo por asesinar a 23 personas en un Walmart en 2019. El asesino aún puede ser condenado a muerte en otro juicio LUIS PABLO BEAUREGARD Los Ángeles - El Paso ha comenzado a cerrar este viernes uno de sus momentos más dolorosos. Patrick Crusius, el asesino racista de 23 personas en un supermercado, ocurrido en agosto de 2019, ha sido sentenciado a 90 cadenas perpetuas consecutivas. El homicida, de 24 años, se declaró culpable en febrero en medio centenar de acusaciones federales de crímenes de odio por atentar en contra de la población latina. Crusius, sin embargo, aún puede ser sentenciado a la pena capital en un juicio diferente que se llevará a cabo a nivel estatal y que aún no tiene fecha. La sentencia ha tardado cuatro años desde que Crusius condujo diez horas más de 1.000 kilómetros desde su casa, cerca de Dallas, hasta la ciudad fronteriza para matar hispanos con un rifle de alto poder en un Walmart que era frecuentado tanto por habitantes de la urbe texana como de Ciudad Juárez, en México. Estos elementos han hecho que este sea uno de los más importantes casos de crímenes de odio en la historia de Estados Unidos. Crusius, de acuerdo a la agencia AP, no mostró ninguna reacción al momento de escuchar su sentencia, que pasará en una prisión de máxima seguridad en Colorado, donde se encuentran los criminales más peligrosos del país, entre ellos Joaquín El Chapo Guzmán. Esposado y vestido con un mono de prisión color azul marino, fue encarado por uno de los familiares de sus víctimas. “Te veremos nuevamente, cobarde. Te vas sin pedir perdón, sin decir nada”, le gritaron en referencia al nuevo proceso judicial que llevará la Fiscalía de Texas, que ha dado a conocer que solicitará la pena de muerte. Este juicio, sin embargo, se ha retrasado desde que Yvonne Rosales, una fiscal con poca experiencia, renunció en noviembre tras una serie de errores en el manejo de la acusación. Bill Hicks, el nuevo fiscal de distrito, espera que el homicida sea puesto en manos de las autoridades estatales en octubre o noviembre. Esto dará inicio al nuevo caso. El juez, David Guaderrama, permitió desde el miércoles que 13 familiares de las víctimas encararan al asesino por primera vez. Fueron dos jornadas de intensidad emocional. Uno a uno, los familiares contaron al tirador cómo su odio cambió vidas para siempre. Algunos le exigieron respuestas, entender qué había llevado a un joven de 21 años a cometer ese acto atroz, que dejó también 22 heridos. Muchos no pudieron contener la rabia al no obtener lo que esperaban del atacante, quien por momentos sonrió ante los duros testimonios o miraba al techo en un gesto de hartazgo. Los menos le dijeron a la cara que lo habían perdonado. Paul Jamrowski, quien perdió en el ataque a su hija, Jordan y a su yerno, llora afuera del tribunal federal en El Paso.ANDRES LEIGHTON (AP) “Mi mensaje al asesino fue que fracasó. Quería deshacerse de los hispanos aquí en El Paso. Y ahora está en una habitación repleta de latinos. Seguimos aquí y no nos vamos a ir a ningún lugar”, dijo Amaris Vega el miércoles. Su madre, Rosemary, su abuela, Rosa Barrón y su tía, Teresa Sánchez, de 82 años, recibieron el impacto del rifle tipo AK-47 de Crusius mientas pagaban sus compras. Su madre sobrevivió a pesar de que una bala le abrió una herida en el pecho del tamaño de una pelota de tenis. Luis Alfonso Juarez, de 90 años, también murió en ese Walmart. Su hija Margaret, quien también estuvo cerca de perder a su madre, subrayó al asesino la ironía de su situación. Su odio lo llevará a una prisión donde estará rodeado de minorías raciales. “Nada en las aguas de la prisión. Nosotros seguiremos disfrutando de la luz del sol. Mantenemos nuestra libertad en nuestro país”, le dijo en un testimonio que provocó aplausos. Paul Jamrowski, el padre de Jordan Anchondo, quien falleció junto a su pareja aquel sábado, se preguntaba si la sentencia de este viernes en realidad es justa.

“Estar en la misma habitación que él es... no tengo palabras... Es triste porque él vivirá sin importar lo que diga la justicia. Él seguirá viviendo mientras que mis nietos, en casa, deben crecer con esto por el resto de sus vidas”, afirmó. La historia de los Anchondo es una de las más conmovedoras entre las casi dos docenas de víctimas. Jordan y su esposo, Andre, encontraron la muerte mientras compraban alimentos para una barbacoa que ofrecerían a invitados ese mismo día. Murieron protegiendo a su bebé Paul, el más pequeño de sus dos hijos, de apenas un par de meses. “Un error de la sociedad” “Eres un parásito malvado”, le dijo Thomas Hoffman, hijo de Alexander Hoffman, un alemán que llegó a vivir a México en los años 80 y quien falleció en el tiroteo con 66 años. “Lo asesinaste de la forma más cobarde. Mi familia era muy feliz”, dijo. El ataque acabó con el matrimonio de 40 años de su padre, quien había cruzado la frontera para comprar herramientas. “Espero que cada noche no puedas dormir por pensar en todos aquellos que mataste. Eres un cobarde, un error de la sociedad”, agregó dirigiéndose al asesino. “Tú mostraste lo que es la maldad, que los monstruos existen fuera de los libros”, afirmó Stephanie Melendez, hija de otra de las víctimas, David Johnson, de 63 años. “Con tu odio te llevaste a una buena persona (...) Espero que el llanto de mi nieta te persiga toda tu vida”, añadió. En enero de este año, los fiscales del caso informaron que no pedirían la pena de muerte por el homicidio de 23 personas. La decisión, que no fue justificada en documentos judiciales, permitió que Crusius cambiara de opinión y se declarara culpable de los cargos federales. Este viernes, el abogado del homicida, Joe Spencer, afirmó que su cliente “tiene colapsado el cerebro”. “El pensamiento de Patrick no se corresponde con la realidad”, dijo al tribunal antes de que se conociera la sentencia. Antes de llevar a cabo la matanza, Crusius publicó en Internet una especie de manifiesto que hacía eco de la supuesta teoría del reemplazo, que predica que la población blanca está siendo sustituida por minorías en Estados Unidos. Esta versión es popular entre los movimientos racistas y supremacistas del país. El asesino se quejaba de “una invasión hispana” a Texas y planeaba como solución “deshacernos de suficientes personas”. Una de las personas que Crusius debió encarar antes de conocer que pasará el resto de su vida en prisión fue un votante de Donald Trump, un presidente que reforzó a los movimientos supremacistas. “No recuerdo nunca que Trump haya dicho que había que salir a matar mexicanos”, le espetó Harry Dean Reckard, un republicano que perdió en el ataque a su madre, Margie Reckard, de 63 años. “¿Duermes bien por las noches?”, quiso saber el hombre. “¿Te arrepientes de lo que hiciste?”, siguió. Solo obtuvo silencio como respuesta. Pero el asesino asintió con la cabeza.       Para recibir en tu celular esta y otras informaciones, únete a nuestras redes sociales, síguenos en Instagram, Twitter y Facebook como @DiarioElPepazo El Pepazo/El País/AS

[3gnoticias]

Culmina el karate de Juegos Estatales Conade 2023

Finalizó el karate de Juegos Estatales Conade 2023, cerrando la actividad con la modalidad de kumite, en el escenario del Polideportivo Sur, con participación de deportistas de Juárez, Chihuahua, Parral y Nuevo Casas Grandes.

En la categoría 2003-2005, el ganador de la división -84 kilogramos fue Gabriel Borjas de Chihuahua, mientras que, en la categoría 2002-2004 la medalla de oro fue para Joaquín Aguiñaga de Chihuahua y plata para Ramiro Zabata de Nuevo Casas Grandes.

Dentro de la categoría 2008-2009, la campeona fue Luna Moriel de Parral en la división -47 kilogramos, seguida por Paulina Villela de Parral y bronce para Nubia Jáquez de Chihuahua.

Categoría 2008-2009

Kumite Fem (-54kg)

1 Mariana Payan NCG

2 Nereida Aderrama NCG

3 Sofia Adame Chihuahua

3 Barbara Orozco Chihuahua

Kumite Fem (-61 Kg)

1 Genoveva García Chihuahua

Kumite Fem (+61 Kg)

1 Ilse Maldonado Chihuahua

2 Renata Baca Chihuahua

Categoría 2008-2009

Kumite Var  (-52 Kg)

1 Emiliano Prieto Juárez

2 Marco Quintero Parral

3 Alan Marquez Chihuahua

3 Arath Fraustro Juárez

Kumite Var  (-57 Kg)

1 Paul Reyes Chihuahua

2 José Arámbula Juárez

3 Francisco Aguirre Chihuahua

3 Carlos Sánchez Chihuahua

Kumite Var  (-63kg)

1 Jeshua Villegas Chihuahua

2 Gael Tapia Chihuahua

3 Osmar Rivero Chihuahua

3 Alfredo Molinar Chihuahua

Kumite Var (-70 Kg)

1 José Campos Parral

2 Emanuel Reveles Chihuahua

Kumite Var (+70 Kg)

1 Horacio Lugo Chihuahua

2 Axel Reza Chihuahua

3 David Rivera Chihuahua

Categoría 2006-2007

Kumite Fem  (-48 Kg)

1 Maya Holguin Juárez

2 Ambar Gómez Juárez

3 Joselyn Marquez Juárez

Kumite Fem  (-53 Kg)

1 María Andrea Maldonado Chihuahua

Kumite Fem  (-59 Kg)

1 Edith Favela Chihuahua

2 Andrea Borjas Chihuahua

3 Ana Valeria Amezcua Chihuahua

3 Rubí Sotelo Chihuahua

Kumite Fem (-66 Kg)

1 René Prieto Juárez

2 Marcela Rangel Chihuahua

Kumite Fem  (+66 Kg)

1 Vanessa Gándara Chihuahua

2 Rosa Pérez Chihuahua

Categoría 2006-2007

Kumite Var  (-55kg)

1 Diego Barrón Juárez

2 Francisco Corral Juárez

3 Vladimir Delgado Juárez

3 Adrián Hernández NCG

Kumite Var  (-61 Kg)

1 Yehoshua Reza Juárez

2 Aaron Solís Parral

3 Damián Corralejo Juárez

3 Cesar Otero Juárez

Kumite Var  (-68 Kg)

1 Paul Ibarra Chihuahua

2 Omar Vázquez Chihuahua

3 Gael Aguiñaga Chihuahua

3 Leonardo Pérez Chihuahua

Kumite Var  (-76 Kg)

1 Diego Lujan Chihuahua

2 Karol Cordoba Chihuahua

3 Ángel Rodríguez Chihuahua

Kumite Var  (+76 Kg)

1 Juan Aguilera Chihuahua

2 Julio Quezada Chihuahua

3 Cesar Álvarez Chihuahua

3 Juan Carlos Torres Juárez

Categoría 2003-2005

Kumite Fem (-50 Kg)

1 Lluvia Ríos Chihuahua

2 Yara Valverde Chihuahua

3 Yamilet García Chihuahua

3 María Del Carmen Castillo Chihuahua

Kumite Fem (-55kg)

1 Ana Maldonado Chihuahua

2 Evelyn Hernandez Chihuahua

3

3

Kumite Fem  (-61 Kg)

1 Daniela Muñoz NCG

2 Alejandra Moriel Juárez

3 Ayumi Villegas Chihuahua

3 Stephanie Terrazas Chihuahua

Kumite Fem (-68 Kg)

1 Andrea Avalos Chihuahua

Kumite Fem (+68 Kg)

1 Ana Castro Juárez

2 Raquel Prieto Juárez

#deportes

[barbararosillo]

La España del siglo XIX, un país ignoto

La España del siglo XIX, un país ignoto

David Wilkie. La defensa de Zaragoza. 1828. Castillo de Windsor.

          “La España del siglo XIX contemplada por ojos asombrados de los viajeros foráneos que transitan por sus inexistentes caminos es un país empobrecido y desolado por la guerra de la Independencia y los enfrentamientos civiles entre isabelinos y carlistas, un país atrasado, inculto hasta la saciedad, extremadamente…

View On WordPress

#Alejandro Dumas #Carl Spitzweg #David Wilkie #españa #Eugene Giraud #Gustavo Doré #historia #libros #lifestyle #Literatura #Manuel Barrón y Carrillo. #Museo Carmen Thyssen. Málaga. #viajes #vida

[elcomunero]

La España del siglo XIX, un país ignoto

La España del siglo XIX, un país ignoto

David Wilkie. La defensa de Zaragoza. 1828. Castillo de Windsor.

          “La España del siglo XIX contemplada por ojos asombrados de los viajeros foráneos que transitan por sus inexistentes caminos es un país empobrecido y desolado por la guerra de la Independencia y los enfrentamientos civiles entre isabelinos y carlistas, un país atrasado, inculto hasta la saciedad, extremadamente…

View On WordPress

#Alejandro Dumas #Carl Spitzweg #David Wilkie #españa #Eugene Giraud #Gustavo Doré #historia #libros #lifestyle #Literatura #Manuel Barrón y Carrillo. #Museo Carmen Thyssen. Málaga. #viajes #vida

[tinylittleobsessions]

What if “Narcos: México” characters took the MBTI test?

So... Here I am again. I had fun a few weeks ago writing about how I imagine each "Narcos: México" character could represent each zodiac sign - and some of you had fun reading it too! So now I'm back with a new idea: what personality type would each "Narcos: México" character get on the MBTI test?  👀

If you don't know this test, it's a personality test based on a theory written by Carl Gustav Jung that divides people in 16 different types of personalities. The personalities are defined by different combinations of letters that represent specific aspects of our behaviour and way of thinking: "I" for "Introverted", for example, "T" for "Thinking", "J" for "Judging", and so it goes. This way, your result will be something like "ENTJ", or "ISFP".

This test is not universally accepted as scientific, true or correct, BUT, as in the case of zodiac signs, I think it's a lot of fun, hahaha. 🤣 If you don't know your MBTI yet, you can take the test here.

SO, wich MBTI profile would correspond to each "Narcos: México" character? My "methodology" here was the following: I took every MBTI profile and thought about wich character it reminded me more of. A few of them were a bit... off: I couldn't really find any character that seemed like an INFP to me; and there were a few characters I could see in more than one profile (Amado, for example, is always giving me trouble when I try to define him, wich I think is very telling about him 🤣). I think that, for the nature of the show itself, “Narcos: México” features more characters that fit in the Analysts and Explorers types; the Diplomats were much harder to find.

EDITED: I added Pablo Acosta as an INFP, as @criatividad-e​ suggested. I still think "Narcos: México" doesn't feature any TRUE INFP, but I think Acosta is in fact the closer to that we can get. As @criatividad-e​ said, "he is empathic, sensible and has that thing about keeping his community united". 😉

I have to say I LOVE character study and discussing character personalities in detail, that's why I love writing this kind of post... AND lately we've been having very interesting debates about Ramón Arellano Félix and his specific personality traits ( @ducavalentinos and @curaheed shared some very interesting thoughts about it  👌 😆), so I can see I'm not the only one who loves this kind of conversation.  😌 👀 As always, I’ll add I’m pretty aware a lot of this comes from headcanon, and, for my headcanons, you can blame @thesolotomyhan​ (if you’re not reading her stuff yet, go do it asap).  😌🤐

Let's examine each of them, shall we?

The Analysts

Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo - The Architect (INTJ- Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking and Judging)

Ambitious and determined

Extremely smart

Rational, always plan ahead

Self-confident; but rather cynical about other people's abilities/skills

Like to be alone and don't feel very comfortable with social events or small talk

Critical

See themselves as more intelligent than other people (and they're usually right, lol)

May be arrogant or at least seen as arrogant by other people

Andrea Nuñez - The Logician (INTP - Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking and Prospecting)

Curiosity and creativity; open-minded

Hardly ever stops thinking; often lose themselves in thought

Pensive, detached, and a bit reserved

Perfectionistic

Tend to get tired out by extensive socializing

Love to analyze patterns

Lying to them is a bad idea

May change their minds quickly

Can overthink even the smallest of decisions

David Barrón Corona - The Commander (ENTJ - Extraverted, Intuitive, Thinking and Judging)

Natural-born leaders

Efficient, energetic, strong-willed

Charisma, confidence and authority

Drive, determination and sharp mind

Ruthless level of rationality

Ability to think strategically

Love a good challenge

Have a particular skill in recognizing the talents of others

Stubborn and dominant, sometimes intolerant

Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán - The Debater (ENTP (Extraverted, Intuitive, Thinking and Prospecting)

Knowledgeable, quick thinker

Original and charismatic

The ultimate devil's advocate

Takes a certain pleasure in being the underdog

Love to brainstorm and think big, but will avoid getting caught doing the "grunt work"

Unyielding honesty: doesn't mince words and cares little about being seen as sensitive or compassionate

The Diplomats

Kiki Camarena - The Advocate (INFJ - Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling and Judging)

Deep thoughtfulness and imagination

Their inner vision, personal values, and a quiet, principled version of humanism guide them in all things

Deep sense of idealism and integrity

Feel compelled to find a mission for their lives

Strive to do what's right and want to help create a world where others do the right thing as well

Typically care more about altruism than personal gain

Aspire to fix society’s deeper problems

May feel that they aren't allowed to rest until they've achieved their goals

Pablo Acosta - The Mediator (INFP - Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling and Prospecting)

As suggested by @criatividad-e​. 😉😌

Idealistic, generous and empathetic

Creative and imaginative, they happily lose themselves in daydreams

Compassionate and nonjudgmental

Known for their sensitivity; can have profound emotional responses to music, art, nature, and the people around them

Long for deep, soulful relationships; feel called to help others

Can be vulnerable to internalizing other people's negative moods or mindsets

Self-critical and sometimes desperate to please

Maria Elvira - The Protagonist (ENFJ - Extraverted, Intuitive, Feeling and Judging)

Thoughtful, idealistic and reliable

Feels called to serve a greater purpose in life

Born leaders; full of passion and charisma; persuasive and inspiring

Tend to be vocal about their values, including authenticity and altruism

Motivated by a sincere wish to do the right thing rather than a desire to manipulate or have power over other people

Eloquence and sensitivity

Amado Carillo Fuentes - The Campaigner (ENFP - Extraverted, Intuitive, Feeling and Prospecting)

True free spirits; outgoing, openhearted, open-minded

Friendly

Independent and creative; full of curiosity and imagination

Tend to embrace big ideas and actions that reflect their sense of hope and goodwill toward others

Spend a lot of time exploring different relationships, feelings, and ideas before they find a path for their lives that feels right

Sometimes struggle with self-discipline and consistency

The Sentinels

Enedina Arellano Félix - The Logistician (ISTJ - Introverted, Observant, Thinking and Judging)

Reserved yet willful

Rational outlook on life; no-nonsense

Compose their actions carefully and carry them out with methodical purpose

Integrity, practical logic and tireless dedication to duty

When they say they are going to get something done, they do it; meeting their obligations no matter the personal cost

Responsible, calm and practical

Often prefer to work alone; prefer autonomy and self-sufficiency to reliance on someone or something else

Don't make assumptions: analyze their surroundings, check their facts and arrive at practical courses of action

Tend to keep their opinions to themselves and let the facts do the talking

Have little tolerance for indecisiveness

May struggle to express emotion or affection outwardly

Walt Breslin - The Defender (ISFJ - Introverted, Observant, Feeling and Judging)

I could kinda see Victor Tapia in this profile too.

Unassuming, steady

Supportive, loyal and hard-working

Efficient and responsible

True altruists

Though sensitive, Defenders have excellent analytical abilities and excellent memory

They take their responsibilities personally, consistently going above and beyond

Are often meticulous to the point of perfectionism

Have a tendency to underplay their accomplishments

Take things too personally; repress their feelings

Jaime Kuykendall - The Executive (ESTJ - Extraverted, Observant, Thinking and Judging)

Often serve as a stabilizing force among others, able to offer solid direction amid adversity

Honesty, dedication and dignity

Happily lead the way on difficult paths

Lead by example, demonstrating dedication and purposeful honesty

Reject laziness and cheating

Are more than willing to dive into the most challenging projects

Live in a world of clear, verifiable facts

Classic image of the model citizen: they help their neighbors, uphold the law, and try to make sure that everyone participates in the community

Inflexible and stubborn

Benjamín Arellano Félix -  The Consul (ESFJ - Extraverted, Observant, Feeling and Judging)

I could kinda see Héctor Palma in this profile too.

Attentive and people-focused; they tend to be very dear to everyone they meet

Supportive and outgoing

Do well in social events and aren't afraid of the spotlight

Concerned with their social status and the standings of other people

Very loyal

Love to be of service, enjoying any role that allows them to participate in a meaningful way - so long as they know that they are valued and appreciated

It's easy for their feelings to be hurt if their ideas are rejected, or if people just aren't interested

The Explorers

Ismael “El Mayo” Zambada - The Virtuoso (ISTP - Introverted, Observant, Thinking and Prospecting)

Tend to have an individualistic mindset, pursuing goals without needing much external connection

Cool rationalism and spirited curiosity

Love to explore with their hands and their eyes

Learn from their environment as they go

Natural makers, moving from project to project

Extremely curious, but unable to stay focused on formal studies

Explore ideas through creating, troubleshooting, trial and error and first-hand experience

Friendly but very private; calm but spontaneous

Struggle with boundaries and guidelines, preferring the freedom to move about and color outside the lines

Easily bored

Accept retaliation, good or bad, as "fair play"

Pacho Herrera - The Adventurer (ISFP - Introverted, Observant, Feeling and Prospecting)

Use aesthetics, design and even their choices and actions to push the limits of social convention

Enjoy upsetting traditional expectations with experiments in beauty and behavior

Live in a colorful, sensual world, inspired by connections with people and ideas

Enjoy connecting with others, and have a certain irresistible charm

Unpredictable and fiercely independent

When faced with criticism, it can be a challenge for people with this type to step away from the moment long enough to not get caught up in the heat of the moment: they can lose their tempers in spectacular fashion

May develop a self-centered identity, acting with selfishness, manipulation and egoism

Ramón Arellano Félix - The Entrepreneur (ESTP - Extraverted, Observant, Thinking and Prospecting)

Bold and original; impatient and defiant; full of passion and energy

Inspiring, convincing and colorful, they are natural group leaders

They are the likeliest personality type to make a lifestyle of risky behavior

Live in the moment and dive into the action: they are the eye of the storm

Leap before they look, fixing their mistakes as they go

Love to be the center of attention; always have an impact on their immediate surroundings

Enjoy drama, passion and pleasure

Use their own moral compass: rules were made to be broken

May get too caught in the moment, take things too far, and run over more sensitive people (or forget to take care of their own health and safety)

Are a force to be reckoned with (if they are able to minimize the trouble-making)

Rafa Quintero - The Entertainer (ESFP - Extraverted, Observant, Feeling and Prospecting)

Utterly social, Entertainers enjoy the simplest things, and there’s no greater joy for them than just having fun with a good group of friends

Love the spotlight, and all the world's a stage

Love vibrant experiences, engaging in life eagerly and taking pleasure in discovering the unknown

Get caught up in the excitement of the moment, and want everyone else to feel that way, too

Naturally curious, exploring new designs and styles with ease; they have an eye for fashion

Observant and very sensitive

They are often so focused on immediate pleasures that they neglect the duties and responsibilities that make those luxuries possible: they'd rather rely on luck or opportunity, or simply ask for help from their circle of friends

More focused on leaping at opportunities than in planning out long-term goals

Bold and easily bored

#narcos #narcos mexico #narcos méxico #mbti #mbti personality types #miguel angel felix gallardo #el chapo #kiki camarena #amado carillo fuentes #enedina arellano félix #walter breslin #benjamín arellano félix #ismael el mayo zambada #pacho herrera #ramón arellano félix #rafa quintero

[thesolotomyhan]

listen, as a mexicana myself my abuelos HATE how much i watch narcos mx pero they also laugh because I showed them a photo of David Barrón in San Quentin and apparently my prima has the same taste 💀 they said they would prefer i marry a man “como el señor luna”

LMAOOO IM SOrry ‘“como el señor luna”’ HAS ME DEAD - and 👀 lol one of my cousins had a thing for rafa and i remember my aunt going el pinche pelos de borrego and 🤚🏼 please haha

#asks #anon

[ashlingnarcos]

THE DEAL

a narcos tv fandom sideblog, reblogs from ashlingiswriting

you can call me Ashling, she/her

askbox is open ;)

join the narcos fandom forever chat! (discord invite, our tumblr)

READERFIC

no witness // Walt Breslin/Reader, 2.4k, on tumblr

he keeps his rules. you keep him. // Horacio Carrillo/Reader, 1.1k, on tumblr, on AO3

blood on vacation // David Barrón/Reader, 1.8k, on tumblr

blood, horses, postponed // Andrea Nuñez/Reader, ficlet on AO3

play the refrain // Hector “Güero” Palma x Reader, 5k, on tumblr, on AO3

take it // Javier Peña/Reader, 2.1k, on tumblr, on AO3

Bride’s Choice // Benjamín Arellano Félix/Reader, ficlet on tumblr

sequel: Bride’s Delight // Benjamín/Reader, 2k on tumblr

open gate // Javier Peña/Reader, 5.1k, on tumblr, on AO3

cauterize. // Horacio Carrillo/Reader, 3.6k, chapter one on AO3, on tumblr

I’ll come back for you // Benjamín Arellano Félix/Reader, ramble turned to fic, on tumblr

last rites. // Horacio Carrillo/Reader, 4.8k, on AO3, on tumblr

he is not dead. // Horacio Carrillo/Reader, ficlet, on AO3, on tumblr

The Dancer // Narcojuniors/F!Reader, Benjamín & Reader, 1.8k, on AO3, on tumblr

Dinamita // Ismael “El Mayo” Zambada/F!reader, 2.2k, on tumblr

North Star // Enedina Arellano Félix/Reader, 1.3k, on AO3, on tumblr

FANFIC

two tests // Carrillo & Trujillo & Calderoni crossover ficlet

what we do now // Feistl x Van Ness post-canon ficlet

self-elegy of the latehomecomer // David Barrón character study, 1k, on AO3

survivor’s forgiveness // César Gaviria/Eduardo Sandoval angst, 1.3k, on AO3, on tumblr

portrait of hunter in exile. // Horacio Carrillo character study, 2.1k, on AO3, on tumblr

Unfinished Business // Enedina Arellano Félix/Isabella Bautista infidelity and under-negotiated kink, 3.7k, on AO3

not right/not enough // Horacio Carrillo/Javier Peña, ficlet, on AO3, on tumblr

one shell casing // Güero & Chapo angst, 1.4k, on AO3, on tumblr

you’re sharp all right // Walt character study, 1k, on AO3

RANDOM

Meta

Incorrect Narcos: Mexico Quotes

a softer Narcos

Who’s Your Narcos Mexico Match (short version) // on uQuiz

THE DRUG WAR

I used to only have a link to NORML here in favor of weed decriminalization, but tbh the real life drug war is beyond complicated and I feel ridiculous talking policy on a fandom blog. Let’s not do that. This is not real life, this is me watching footage of Alberto Guerra smirking at Mayra Hermosillo.

#narcos mexico #narcos #narcos netflix #about #pinned post #about me #standard disclaimer: these are all fictional things about a television show #the real people involved can honestly all go fuck themselves #but the characters are fun and i'm here to have a good time (and yknow. cry.) #narcos mexico fanfiction #fanfiction

[hausofmamadas]

| The occupational hazards of living |

⁂

Narcos: Mexico/True Detective Crossover

Pairing: David Barrón & Rustin "Crash" Cohle & OC! Ziggy Morenas & OC! Ernesto "Chato" Quintana Colmenaro

For @narcosfandomdiscordNarcOctober - Day 22 - Day of Cross Pollination

Prompt: Create a fanwork that includes at least one Narcos character and at least one character from another fandom & fanwork with the plot or setting stolen from another fandom

Word count: ≈ 4.5K

TWs: Canon-consistent violence, Light Prison Racisms, swearing, racial slurs, drug use, references to trauma/domestic abuse, white supremacy ..? that’s a trigger, right?

The two most important things anyone can do is give life and take it. But with how often both happened, it seemed people didn’t consider the gravity of either near enough. Killing wasn’t a trifling thing. Barrón has had it up to here with these Neo-Nazis and Rustin Cohle is there to support his teaching them a lesson. Also a couple of notes: La Eme = the letter M but stands for Mexican Mafia carnal = (pronounced carnál) made man of La Eme, putting in work = Doing Crimes, particularly violent ones in service to La Eme, vica = vice president, usually of a prison cellblock llevero = keyholder/shotcaller, Eme carnal who oversees a specific geographic region outside prison or an entire prison camarada = non-made Eme members, affiliates crimie = (pronounced crim-ee) short for criminal contra = short for contraband la raza = literally the race, but more the community/the people (similar to gente but more exclusive)

… but first! Let’s meet the cast:

Ziggy

Chato

Ginger

⁂

The most startling thing about prison wasn’t the violence. If witnessing his first drive-by shooting when he was six didn’t acclimate Barrón quickly, his old man’s habit of bouncing him and Matteo off the walls certainly did. So, while the tactics and flavors were new, the violence wasn’t. He likened it to living in a war zone. If you panicked about every shell that blew a road to bits, you’d drop dead of a coronary in no time.

No, the most shocking thing about prison was the tribalism. As a plebito in Logan Heights, he had friends belonging to almost every ethnic group the melting pot of San Diego had to offer. The project neighborhoods were chock full of families of different races, countries, ethnicities: Samoan, Filipino, Black, Japanese, Mexican, Guatemalan, El Salvadorian, and the like. It didn’t matter where the neighbor kid’s family was from, when all they wanted to do was play like Bruce Lee from Way of the Dragon in the scrapyard across the street.

So, when he arrived at his first Youth Authority facility, Rancho Del Campo, just outside the dirt town of Tecate, and was told by some of the older Sureños about the “rules” against consorting with Black or White prisoners, he thought it was a joke.

“Wait, you fucking with me?”

“Nah, lil homie. Deader than dead serious,” Eddie Monstruo aka Eddie the monster, Eme vica for his block, set him straight.

“Even if I knew ‘em on the outside? I can’t just eat a meal with ‘em?”

Eddie shook his head in lamentation.

“Trade contra? Say hi? Nothing?”

“Nothing. Con la raza baila el perro, sin la raza bailas como un perro. And they won’t tell you twice, te lo juro, guey.”

He remembered thinking, Are you kidding? This is America. So indignant. What he wouldn’t give to be that green again. But what really bothered him was how the rules weren’t the same for everyone. Like how the Sureños were more simpatico with White prisoners because La Eme was aligned with the AB. Aryan Brotherhood.

He rarely saw White kids on the outside save for when he sold them dope down by the boardwalk. He sure as fuck didn’t have any whiteboy homies. Shoot, on the outside, whitey was The Man. So, it was a blow when he found out the camaradas were aligned with the AB. The way it was explained to him, the Sureños did it out of “necessity” because of the longstanding alliance between the Norteños and Black Guerrilla Family. Norteños, or Nuestra Familia, were Eme’s sworn enemy. Sometime in the 70s, the top carnals saw the need to boost their profile and numbers with a similar alliance, so they took up with the AB.

Barrón never said shit, but the AB didn’t sit right with him. For guys who were supposedly the “cream of the crop,” the “superior” race, they were really a bunch of lazy, disorganized hicks. They talked a lot of shit about the white race being the “one true people,” “purest of the pure,” acted like they shit gold. But then they had to be off-this-planet high on whatever the crank of the month was, just to put in work. That, or they shot up places indiscriminately. No creep to ‘em. Worse yet, no concern for bystanders.

Barrón knew everyone in the game skated a line of amorality, but he drew a few more lines for himself. One from the beginning: at all possible costs, no bystanders. The other line came with time. After he’d been around the block some, he stopped getting blasted on dope and booze before a hit. He didn’t begrudge some of the guys that did and he had his fair share of early jobs where those gears needed greasing. But after a while, being spun on top of spun felt disrespectful. To the job. To his victims.

The two most important things anyone can do is give life and take it. But with how often both happened, it seemed people didn’t consider the gravity of either near enough. Killing wasn’t a trifling thing. So, what did it say about him if he tried to escape, check out by getting high? What did it say if he couldn’t, with his full faculties and finger on the trigger, look the person in the eye and feel the depth of what he was about to do?

There was no off the hook. Actions have consequences. Guilt and remorse? They were occupational hazards of living if your brain was wired like it was supposed to be. He knew there was a worthy place for him in hell. The least he could do was be an adult about it. It’s not that he fancied murder an honorable business. He just hated cowards and hypocrites. That’s why he hated the AB.

That and they just plain sucked. Best way to ruin a party? Be sure to invite the neo-nazis.

The last time he agreed to work with an AB affiliated outfit was a few years after he got out of San Quentin. The Logan Heights llevero, his old homie Mando, called on Barrón to help some biker gang take back one of their stash houses. Apparently, some AB higher-up named Geronimo Jerry was collecting on a favor Mando owed from back when they did time in Folsom. To pay up, Mando put together a team to back Jerry’s guys up, but a couple of his original soldiers got dropped by the cops and another got arrested, and he needed replacements for the six man operation. The minute Barrón heard whiteboys were involved, he tried to get out of it. But Mando was a full-blown Eme carnal by then, a made-man of the Mexican mafia.

Barrón had seen The Godfather countless times as a kid, one of his dad’s favorites. One of the few good things he could remember about the man at all. At five years old, he thought it entirely innocent when Vito said in that whisper of a voice, “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Like Vito was offering Woltz a deal so sweet, he couldn’t pass it up. It wasn’t till later on, when Mando asked him to do this job that Barrón got what Vito Corleone really meant. When a carnal said “jump,” he had no choice. He was locked in.

Thankfully, the two others Mando put on it were Barrio LH guys Barrón already knew. He and Chato had been buds since back in YA and had already done plenty of rip-n-runs together. He’d never worked a job like this with Ziggy Morenas but Ziggy was a known quantity around Shelltown as a reliable soldado. He was also Matteo’s best friend since grade school, so naturally, when they were old enough to start puttin’ in work, they did it together. Matteo only ran with the best and taught Barrón to do just the same.

But it was tricky with Ziggy. Barrón got along with him fine but they’d never been close per se. Unofficial Big Bro Ziggy might’ve been more accurate. Still, when Matty died, they fell out for a bit. They’d only reconnected recently because Ziggy started going out with one of Cheli’s friends, Leó. Even then, the void of Matty was always there. A void they shared but could never relate to each other through. Plus, competent a soldado as he was, the thing about Ziggy? He could be a little serious even for Barrón’s liking, which was saying something. Frankly, Ziggy could be a downright prickly motherfucker. All that noise aside though, he’d take serious over reckless any day. There was no mistaking Chato and Ziggy were solid guys.

The AB crew, on the other hand. Well truly, he’d never seen a more unprofessional group of crimies, save one of their affiliates Barrón had met a few times before, a bony-faced, severe-looking guy named Rust who went by Crash. He had the rangy, haunted look of a starved alley cat and commanded an Ivy League vocabulary that, through a watered-down Texas drawl, betrayed just how whip-smart he was. He also seemed to be the only one who could hold his liquor and his crystal, a fact alone that should’ve meant he was the one calling the shots. Unfortunately for them, the actual “leader” of this mess was a brawny, bald guy with too-wide, glassy blue eyes and a long, braided, red beard, who they fittingly called Ginger.

The “safe house” they met at was a piece of shit, rundown bungalow owned by Jerry. Outside, it looked like an elementary school portable. Inside, it was a hoarder’s paradise. When Barrón, Chato, and Ziggy arrived, there were group of about nine or ten guys huddled around Ginger at a foldable picnic table in the kitchen area. Crash was the only one off to the side, smoking by himself in the corner.

As the three of them passed through the living room to join the AB guys, Barrón was overwhelmed by the stench of cat piss, lighter fluid, and an amalgam smoke mixture of PCP and cigarettes. The shag carpet was crawling with roaches and littered with cigarette butts, stag mags, and Skymall catalogs. And fuck finding a place to sit. Barrón had to slide clothes and stacks of papers off the arm of a dank couch that jutted into the dining area just to lean against it. Chato and Ziggy opted to share the edge of the coffee table facing the kitchen.

They all watched as Ginger laid out the half-assed plan they cooked up. Barrón caught Crash out of the corner of his eye, whose gaunt face seemed caught between an apology and a defeated look of warning, like he was telegraphing the breath and time he’d already wasted trying to reason with these idiots and that he shouldn’t be bothered.  

When it became clear these morons hadn’t done any legwork beforehand, Barrón asked if they had an alternate route to get out of the complex they were hitting in case they got boxed in. “Only one way in and out? In only one car?”**

Eyes buzzing with a kind of feral, wildcard edge that didn’t instill the slightest confidence, Ginger nodded slowly, licking excess coke off the edge of a credit card.

Ziggy too, looked unamused, the tell-tale whites of the skin spreading over his knuckles, visible as his hands balled into fists. Chato noticed too because he and Barrón exchanged uneasy glances.

Dropping some well-timed Spanish, intended only to be understood by the three of them, “Es lo que ya les pregunté. Todo se fija a ser un espectáculo de mierda,” Crash floored the whole room before calmly taking a drag from his cigarette like an asthmatic on his inhaler.  

A big guy named Mitch leaned over close enough to graze Barrón with his beard, and freebase-exhaled this poetry, “We hit trouble? Just gotta fuck it in the ass. Scoop out the soft brains and eat right out the skull.”**

One of the strangest attempts at reassurance Barrón had ever heard. Like he agreed, Crash scoffed at Mitch and rolled his eyes. Homie knew shit was about to go down. Probably because Ziggy looked like he was about to pop his lid. Barrón choked back a chuckle of surprise that Ziggy didn’t slug the fat fuck in the face, right then and there. It wouldn’t have been out of character. Or unwarranted.

Because this was typical AB. These guys never bothered to come up with a plan. They never needed one. Life cut them all the breaks and of course it did. They’d designed it that way.

But as fate would have it, Barrón was actually one to break. He’d reached his limit and put one of their guys down with a bullet in both kneecaps. It was after he questioned their exit strategy.

Some skinny dude, a guy called Whizbang, who’d been spun for probably 48 straight hours, accused him of asking too many questions. Undeniable proof he was an undercover cop. Funny thing was, this moron wasn’t even gonna be part of the actual boost.

“This spic doesn’t say shit the whole time. Now he’s askin’ about tactics? Shifty-eyed motherfucker hasn’t touched shit since we got here.” Whizbang pointed to the curated assortment of drug paraphernalia next to the assault weapons on the table. “What’s wrong? You some kinda beaner cop, ese?” He pronounced it ‘ess-ay.’

Barrón met him with a wall of inscrutable nothing.

The little creep walked over slowly. “You laughin’ at me motherfucker?” Funny, ‘cause he wasn’t even close to smiling.

Relaxed as ever, he drowned the room in a silence that put everyone’s hackles up. Especially Ginger, whose eyes couldn’t get any wider, the whites of his eyes near engulfing his eye-sockets, swallowing his irises along with those pinprick-sized pupils. The look of bored resignation Crash wore every other time Barrón crossed paths with him was now replaced with a smirk of satisfaction; someone who walked through life craving the unexpected and getting more than he’d bargained for.

“Got nothin to say, huh? C’mon Sancho, prove you’re not a cop.”

As he drew closer, he tried his level best to look menacing or as menacing as anyone named Whizbang might hope to be. Patience wearing thin, Barrón’s wall broke and he rolled his eyes and looked off to the side, muttering against gritted teeth and his better judgement, “Can’t believe we have to deal with this shit.”

Whizbang didn’t seem to notice. “Let’s go Sancho, talk or take a bump. Show us you’re not a cop.”

Almost close enough to be nose-to-nose now, he took out a dimebag of what looked like PCP from the pocket of his kutte and waved it in front of Barrón’s face. No one but Ziggy and Chato caught his hand nearing a spot at the base of his back.

Eyes blazing like molten tar, nostrils flared, it was a preamble, simple and quick. “You talk too much.”

Then before anyone could blink, two loud pops and poor, skinny-ole Whizbang crumpled to the floor, howling and clutching his knees as blood spurted out all over his hands and seeped through his jeans onto the carpet. Barrón fixed his nine millimeter on Whizbang’s face, trying to decide if he was going to let the skidmark live. But, spotting a wooden crate on the floor next to the table, he aimed there instead.

A moment of stunned silence passed, until everyone realized what he was aiming at and then all the AB guys scrambled for the weapons on the table. Everyone except Crash who was laughing at the ground now, unperturbed and cracked-in-the-head in a way that indicated the guy had seen some shit in his life. What it was, Barrón could only guess.

Crash cut through the chaos with a whistle and a, “tsk tsk, I’d think on that, boys.”

They all froze and looked at him, then at Barrón, then to the barrel of his gun, then to the wooden crate that was filled with over a dozen live grenades, then back at Barrón. Just to hammer the point home, Barrón shot right, then left, on each side of the crate.

The AB guys looked green. Chato and Ziggy looked torn between panic and hysterical laughter, though he swore he detected a hint of approval on Ziggy’s face. Crash looked on the verge of straight-up applause. Based on the sheer glee this little turn of events brought him, he couldn’t have been with the AB. That must be why he wasn’t in charge.

Looking Ginger square in the eye, Barrón explained, voice quiet and even, “We do this my way or I can nuke us all, right now.” He waited a beat but stunned-stupid Ginger still said nothing. “So Chief, what’ll it be?”

Crash ventured, smirking with an I-told-you-so superiority only somewhat softened by the drawl, “Far be it from me to speak out of turn, here, Ginger. But based on the last few months I just spent in Ojinaga and Juarez, uh– I’d say– well, yeah, just– you’d be wise to take these motherfuckers serious, right brother.” He tacked on brother like an afterthought, maybe to soften the blow or maybe just to sound like a condescending prick. Somehow it worked on both fronts.

Ginger stared at the ground and clenched his jaw so hard it looked like it might dislocate. Then spat out, “Fine. Fuckit,” rolling his head around, glaring through half-lidded eyes, “what does Big Beaner over here propose?”

And just like that, Barrón was in charge.

So, of course then, the heist went off without a hitch.

∴

After the job was done, the loot counted and distributed among all interested parties back at the safe house, everyone exchanged tense, albeit still-amicable goodbyes; good will engendered, no doubt, by fact that the whole thing went off seamlessly. Still, Crash was the only whiteboy to shake their hands.

“Nifty little stunt you pulled there. I’d call you a crazy motherfucker, if you hadn’t saved me the headache of getting my ass greased,” he turned around to look over at Ginger’s crew, back to snorting PCP off the foldout table with plastic straws, “and buried six-feet-under with these fuckin’ imbeciles.”

Barrón smiled and nodded diffidently.

Chato spoke up for the first time since they’d gotten back. “Hey, we’re ’boutta grab some grub before we head back to give the lowdown to the big homie—” Crash nodded at Chato like he knew exactly who Mando was. And maybe he did, since he didn’t seem to be rolling with the AB. Just another soldier filling out the ranks like them. “—wanna roll out with us?”

“Sheeit.” Eyes alight with a crystal-meth vigilance that would’ve been off-putting if he weren’t so devil-may-care all the time, Crash surveyed the room, and shrugged. “Beats climbing the walls here with these assholes. Yeah, lemme take you up on that, buy you friendlies a round somewhere.”

Barrón smiled at Chato, little social butterfly. He, himself, would never have thought to invite the guy, but he was glad Chato did. Following Chato’s lead, he asked Crash, “Yo, you need a ride?”

“Nah, I’ll follow on my bike. Y’all know what’s good.”

The three of them looked at each other blankly until Ziggy offered, “Stoney’s?”

“Any place with booze’ll do just fine.”

“Oh, but we gotta make a pit stop at Micky D’s.”

They all looked at Chato like he’d been an extraterrestrial this whole time, and they’d only noticed just now.

“What?” He asked earnestly. “I want a McFlurry.”

They all just kept staring at him.

“Well, they don’t have McFlurries at Stoney’s, obviously.” Like they were the dumbest people on the planet.

Amused, Crash chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t say I’m in a position to judge, but he’s an odd duck, ain’t he.”

“Aight.” Ziggy cracked a rare smile, the kind really only Chato or Matty could get him to do. “Let’s get the kid a McFlurry. Then Stoney’s.”

The three of them piled into Barrón’s Monte Carlo and rolled out. Crash chugged behind on his Harley.

The crowd at Stoney’s was just starting to pick up, so they opted for the open seats at the bar on the patio.

“First round’s on me.” Crash flagged down the bartender. “What’s everyone’s poison.”

Barrón put his hand on his chest, “Corona,” then pointed to Ziggy. “Y tú, qué?”

Ziggy looked up from the spot on the bartop he had been mean-mugging since they sat down, “Oh, uh—” then glanced at Chato next to him, who was gazing, lost in love, into his McFlurry cup, spooning bite after bite into his mouth, and just ordered for him. “Well, for the lady, a tequila sunrise and me? I don’t— eh, fuck it. Shot of tequila. Nothing fancy.”

Narrowing his eyes, Crash regarded them like he’d been conducting a study that yielded some unexpected results, then passed the order on to the bartender.

When they had their drinks, Crash finally asked what was probably on everyone’s mind. “So, contestame eso,” he slid into Spanish, unclumsily but not entirely without effort. “Ya tango que saberlo. Back there. That just a performance? Or would you’ve done it?”

Somewhat blindsided, less by the question than by who was asking it, Barrón struggled to hide his surprise while he tongued the inside of his cheek, searching for an answer. He got the impression for some reason that Crash could take the truth. There was a hard-lived, stretched-thin quality to him, evidence of a man, unmoored, maybe a bit unhinged, operating at the edge of life itself. But he didn’t want to spook Chato.

And the truth was well, he didn’t actually know. Not then and not now. He didn’t need to because of what he did know: things never would’ve gotten that far. It was a play and the play would’ve worked, even without Crash’s helpful advice to Ginger. Because those AB guys? They were always chickenshit.

Okay, so there. That was an answer. Why didn’t he just say that?

Maybe because of what he wasn’t certain of. That if he’d misjudged the situation, if it hadn’t worked, would he have tried their luck and pulled the trigger anyway? Nah, but he knew that too. Yeah, he would’ve. He meant it. Or at least a part of him. Had to be serious for them to take it serious.

But he settled on equivocation. “What d’you think?”

Ball back in Crash’s court, and the way his jaw cocked to the side, it was clear he wasn’t much for accepting non-answers for answers. “What do I think? Well, what’s the use in asking if I already know?”

Fair enough.

An impatient Ziggy piped up, turning to Barrón. “Quién se cree que es, este pinshe gringuillo?” But before Crash could answer, Ziggy swiveled back around and laid it out for him. “If he hadn’t meant it, we would’ve gone along with their cracked, cracker-ass plan. And if we went along with their plan, we’d either be in jail or riddled with bullets right now, probably buried in the middle of some dirt lot along with those crusty hicks. Okay?”

Huh. Ziggy, having his back like that, defending him. That was … nice, new. Unphased though, Crash put his hands up in armistice. “I ain’t complainin’ insofar as I’m curious as to the level of commitment to the bit.”

“Alright,” Barrón said in a sigh. “Yeah, I meant it. Had to, didn’t I?”

Finally, that seemed enough truth to humor Crash, as he nodded, mouth cocked up in a smug half-smirk, and took a swig of his bourbon. Barrón saw it then. Este güey knew it all along but wouldn’t be satisfied unless it was said out loud. Ziggy scowled and rolled his eyes, maybe still irritated that Crash had asked in the first place. But probably more resentful that he’d folded so quick, telling this outsider the truth.

Poor Chato seemed to be the only one taken by surprise, as he froze mid-bite, eyes wide, plastic spoon hanging out of his mouth. And all of a sudden Barrón and Ziggy busted up laughing. With less investment but still in on the joke, Crash couldn’t stop himself chuckling too. As they all sat there, in varying levels of stitches, Chato just looked at them all, confused. Until he realized the joke was how ridiculous he looked, and then he cracked up right along with them.

When they settled down, Barrón wiped tears from his eyes while Chato contentedly sipped on his tequila sunrise, and Ziggy flagged the bartender again for another shot.

The bartender brought his shot and Ziggy knocked it back before asking Barrón, “Yo,” voice thick as he swallowed hard, “should we work on getting our story straight? Like, what do we tell Mando?”

Chato glanced nervously at Ziggy, agreeing, “Yeah, like are we gonna tell how you kneecapped that skinny guy–“

“Whizbang,” Crash cut in to remind them his name, as if it mattered.

“–and threatened to blow the whole crew away?”

Staring ahead at all the bottles lined up on shelves, lit technicolor by the bar lights, Barrón said cooly, “Is that what happened?”

Brows furrowed, Chato looked from Barrón, to Ziggy, to Crash, then back to Barrón. “Yo, is this a trick question or—?”

“No fool,” Ziggy shot him a disgruntled look. “It’s not a trick question. And yea, fool, that’s what happened.”

“So, that’s what we tell him.”

Chato couldn’t compute, looking at Barrón like he’d sprouted a second smaller, uglier head. With an air of amused cynicism, Crash watched the three of them bickering, citizens in the town square like they were on Court TV.

“Woahwoahwoah,” Chato practically gurgled with a mouth full of McFlurry, “you forreal right now?”

“Look, Jerry and Mando go way back. He’s gonna hear about it. Best he hears direct. Besides, you can’t lie to a carnal when you go off the reservation like that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Barrón saw Ziggy’s head gravely bobbing up and down in agreement.

Chato was still in disbelief. “Dude, he’s gonna cap you right there on the spot.”

“Actions have consequences,” Barrón explained simply, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. “I’ll see that it doesn’t blow back on you. S’on me.”

Ziggy seemed comfortable in resignation at the prospect of Mando losing his shit on Barrón. Chato was still unconvinced. Pobre was genuinely concerned for him.

Assessing Chato with something like doomed admiration, Crash pointed out, “Milkshakes aside, kid’s got the kinda heart they don’t teach in school.” Then looking around at all of them like the thought just dawned on him, he asked, “How old are you guys, anyway?”

Index finger pointing at his chest, Ziggy said flatly, “Twenty one, last month,” then pointed to Chato, “nineteen,” then to Barrón who finished for him, “eighteen.”

Crash whistled, “Sheeit. And I thought I didn’t have childhood.”

Chato still looked ill at ease. In an effort to cheer him up, Barrón quipped, “No hay tos, compa. I’m living on borrowed time anyway. Shoot, I was ready to die— what,” he smirked and glanced at the clock hanging above the doorway that led from Stoney’s patio back inside, “three hours ago?”

Chato gave him the side-eye but must’ve worked a little bit because his shoulders weren’t crunched up by his ears as much.

After a few minutes of silence, something occurred to Barrón. “Hey, why’d you ask?”

Crash downed the remainder of his bourbon in one big gulp and came back up smiling like he was waiting for that exact question to be asked. He set the empty glass upside down on the bar, and pulled out a cigarette, tapping the tip of it on the bottom of the glass, before putting it to his lips and lighting up.

Through another one of those deep, asthmatic drags, voice thick, he said, “Well, I was jus’ thinking, the kinda nuts it takes, going off book like that? But the three of you still kept your cool. Level headed nutjobs are hard to find. So, might be I got another job for you boys. If you’re interested. And Mando’ll lend you.”

Well that stumped them, as they stood there, puzzled looks on all their faces because actually who the fuck was this guy? And did he know Mando? Or he was just a that good a listener?

Crash gave them a wily look through the two thick columns of smoke that poured from his nostrils. “Y’all ever heard of a guy by the name of Amado Carrillo Fuentes?”

They came back at him with nothing but crickets.

“You might know him as El Senior de los Cielos.”

That’s when Barrón knew he’d sized this guy up correct. Crash, Rust, whoever this guy was, dropping a big name like that, guaranteed he’d seen and done some shit in his life.

And now, evidently, he was looking for business partners. Or maybe a couple of suckers. Which one would depend on whatever came out of his mouth next.

═

** indicates lines robbed directly from True Detective (Because you know I wish I came up with that soft brains line but alas, I am no Nic Pizzolato)

taglist: @narcolini @narcosfandomdiscord

#david barrón #rustin cohle #narcos mexico #true detective #narcoctober #day of cross pollination #day 22 #the way this is so late bc i had to make gifs of my OCs #because a mood board was insufficient #because of me #and who i am and my general essence and being as a person #I should be fired from monthly prompt challenges honestly #but you guys #THIS IS LITERALLY MY TWO BBBY GIRLS IN ONE STORY LIKE I SWEAR TO GOD NO ONE IS MORE BBY GIRL TO ME THAN BARRON OR RUST OKAYAYYYYFDSLLKJS #netflix narcos mexico #narcos fandom discord #narcos fanfiction #rust cohle #ziggy morenas #chato quintana colmena #my oc bbs

[ladobdelaclase]

semana de asesorías

martes 1 de febrero

8:00am: Natalia + Alaniz y el drama desde el privilegio 8:10am: Paulina* + Erin + Andrea y la soledad                            *llevarle desayuno digno 8:20am: Natalia + Jesús + Rodrigo y el lado oscuro de los espacios 8:30am: Fernanda y los insectos 8:40am: Diego Ordoño y la emoción pandémica

miércoles 2 de febrero

8:00am: Melissa y la religión 8:10am: Dafne + Nicole + María Fernanda y los empleados 8:20am: Alejandra + Sofía y el servicio de limpieza 8:30am: Guillermo + Iván y el amorts 8:40am: Tello + Villa + Lino y la adolescencia 8:50am: Errejón y el proceso artístico

jueves 3 de febrero

8:00am: Nemecio y los contrastes mexicanos 8:10am: Valentinas (Bottle & Barrón) y las fronteras 8:20am: Carlos Salas y la sumersión en el yo 8:30am: Luna + Joél + Danna y las sombras de la vida estudiantil 8:40am: Paulina Mendoza y las familias 8:50am: David Pallares y el Sindicato

[notimundo]

New Post has been published on https://notimundo.com.mx/politica/los-lastres-de-victor-aguirre-noe-mondragon-norato/

Los lastres de Víctor Aguirre: Noé Mondragón Norato

El ex edil perredista de Acapulco y frustrado aspirante a gobernador, Evodio Velázquez Aguirre, presume sin recato, dos situaciones del pasado: haberle ganado en la mesa de negociación dos candidaturas a dos ex gobernadores. En la elección local de 2008, le ganó al ex gobernador perredista Zeferino Torreblanca Galindo, su postulación como candidato a diputado local en el distrito 16 de Acapulco.

Por acuerdo de Zeferino y Félix Salgado, el candidato designado fue el entonces titular de Capama, Miguel Ángel Castro Salas. Mediante queja interpuesta ante el Trife, la candidatura se la quitaron. Y se la dieron a Evodio.

Luego, en la elección de 2015, la encuesta ordenada por la dirigencia nacional del PRD a cargo de Carlos Navarrete Ruiz, le dio el gane al ex edil porteño. Evodio lo leyó como un triunfo sobre el ex gobernador Ángel Aguirre, quien mandó a la competencia a su hijo Ángel Aguirre Herrera. De ahí se lee la coyuntura actual.

Negociación encarecida.

El ex edil perredista de Acapulco, intenta vender muy cara su declinación a favor de Mario Moreno Arcos, como candidato de la alianza PRI-PRD a gobernador. Aparte de lo que se entiende, ya pactó con el PRI, intenta quedarse con las candidaturas perredistas para su grupo en Chilpancingo y Acapulco.

Los hechos son tercos

En Acapulco, arropó la candidatura del insaciable Víctor Aguirre Alcaide, para la alcaldía. Y en Chilpancingo, juega con dos escenarios que busca inclinar a su favor: la eventual reelección del actual edil, Antonio Gaspar Beltrán.

O el empuje para que llegue el ex petista, ex morenista y actual diputado local perredista, Servando Salgado Guzmán. El asunto es que Chilpancingo ya está negociado entre las dirigencias estatales y nacionales del PRI-PRD. Es decir, la capital será para un aspirante del PRD, no del PRI. Y se entiende en consecuencia, que Acapulco será para el PRI.

Pero Evodio quiere encarecer muy alto la negociación, pese a lo limitado de sus canicas. Y la grotesca imposición del actual regidor Víctor Aguirre, como candidato perredista.

Pero éste último arrastra más pasivos, que activos. 2.- Sin más talento que el servirse de los cargos públicos que ha desempeñado, Víctor Aguirre fue acusado de opacidad en el manejo de los dineros cuando fungió como secretario de Desarrollo Social municipal, en el periodo justamente, en que Evodio estaba al frente de la alcaldía.

Antes, el ex perredista David Jiménez Rumbo lo acusó de extorsionar a varios alcaldes de su extinta tribu Grupo Guerrero, en su calidad de titular del Copladeg, designado ahí por el ex gobernador Ángel Aguirre: «El señor Víctor Aguirre Alcaide está utilizando su cargo de director general del Copladeg para extorsionar y enriquecerse, está extorsionando a los alcaldes y estoy citando al alcalde de Tecpan de Galeana, Crisóforo Otero Heredia; al alcalde de La Unión, Crescencio Reyes Torres, y al alcalde de Coahuayutla, Everardo Barrón Ríos, de que les ha pedido y creo que algunos ya lo entregaron, les ha pedido que por cada millón que el Copladeg apruebe tienen que entregarle a él la cantidad de mil pesos, si la obra cuesta 200 millones tienen que entregar 200 mil, pero no conforme con eso también les pide un porcentaje de obra de la que ejecuta el municipio, para que se le asigne a empresas que él propone con la finalidad de cobrar el 10 por ciento», dijo en conferencia de prensa.

No era todo.

El 4 de noviembre de 2012, el ex aspirante del PRD a la alcaldía de Tixtla, Erwin Pastrana Campos denunció en conferencia de prensa que «Víctor Aguirre Alcaide le pidió 700 mil pesos para conservar la candidatura que el Consejo Estatal del PRD, le había otorgado en abril de ese año».

Al no acceder a esa petición, Víctor maniobró internamente entre las tribus y en su calidad de miembro de los mal llamados «Cuatro Fantásticos», para que la candidatura se la quitaran y designaran en su lugar, a Gustavo Alfredo Alcaraz Abarca, quien al final, ganó la alcaldía de aquel municipio. Adorador del Dios Baco, Aguirre Alcaide se vio involucrado en un incidente de tránsito en Tlapa. Y un choque en la Autopista del Sol. Es esa la «carta política predilecta y rentable», con la que Evodio Velázquez quiere disputar la alcaldía de Acapulco, cobijado por la alianza PRI-PRD. Qué tal.

Hojeadas de Paginas

La filtración de la encuesta del Morena que daba como ganador otra vez a Félix Salgado, fue un borregazo informativo.

Y la primera evidencia fue que se incluyó en la segunda medición, a la ex alcaldesa del PRD en Atoyac, María de la Luz Núñez Ramos, quien nunca estuvo contemplada. Y perdió como candidata del Morena en Michoacán en la elección de 2015, frente al actual mandatario perredista de la vecina entidad, Silvano Aureoles Conejo. Los nerviosismos y la desesperación cunden.

#Noé Mondragón #Noé Mondragón Norato #Víctor Aguirre

[111perro]

JULIA MEDINA & CEPEDA_NOHABLAN MÁS DE TI from Domingo Fernández on Vimeo.

Realizador: Domingo Fernández DOP: Antton Libano Gaffer: Marcos Cifo Producer: Pablo Barrón Producción: Ana Suela Edición: Dominggo FErnández Etalonaje: David Taranilla Estilismo: Luis Maro Maquillaje - JuliaXenia Tió Maquillaje - Luis: Andrea Gómez Agradecimientos: Hotel Santo Domingo, Clara Vivar, Cristina Culebras, Fátima Valdés

Music video by Julia Medina, Cepeda performing No Hablan Más De Ti. © 2020 Universal Music Spain, S.L.U.