#dear sister aka the shooting

[dogwood-designs]

Dear Sister, by the time you read this-

🎶 mmm whatcha say 🎶

🎶 mmm whatcha say🎶

#dear sister #dear sister aka the shooting #andy samberg #bill hader #snl #lonely island #the lonely island #snl digital short #saturday night live #shia labeouf #my art #painting #acrylic #mmm whatcha say #this skit is a classic #wanted to paint this #a duology #mmm whacha say #hide and seek #the shooting #snl sketch #the guns are supposed to be blurry #i hope people get this #avenge the fallen

[klawphish]

Dear sister,

By the time you read this, I will be dead.

This is how I think it's going to happen.

Oryx will kill us.

Then the Guardian will kill Crota, Oryx will enter and get killed by Eris.

Then I come in and get killed by Mara, the Guardian, and Eris, multiple times.

Love,

Your sister Savathûn

P.S. Then the two knights reading this will kill each other.

#op #destiny 2 #the shooting aka dear sister

[incorrectgenrexcaptions]

Dear brother, by the time you read this, I will be dead. This is how I think it's gonna happen. Black Knight will shoot me. Then I'll shoot Black Knight, and White Knight will enter and get shot by Black Knight. Then you'll come in and get shot by White Knight, Black Knight, and I multiple times. Then Holiday will enter and get shot by White knight, Black Knight, you and I. Then Six will enter and shoot White Knight, Black Knight, you, Holiday and I. The Bobo will show up and shoot Six multiple times, then get shot by White Knight, Black Knight, you, Holiday, Six, and I. Many times. Many, many times. Love, your brother Rex. P.S. Then two Providence agents will read this letter and shoot each other.

#genrex #generator rex #the shooting aka dear sister #caesar salazar #rex salazar

[neon-skeleton99]

Mmm watcha say

#Go watch the shooting aka dear sister I beg yoy #There’s blood tho btw

[roseyrays]

# ENHYPEN SMAU RECS 💖

# RIKI

# more time with you! — by @yenqa, it’s very CUTE and the ANGST is scrumptious :))

# love dive — by @tzyuki, RIKIY/N ARE SO CUTE

# love is (not) easy! — by @kynrki, riki smau, THE ANGST RHAHAHA MADE ME CRY BUT I LOVE IT

# shoot! — by @amakumos, again ADORABLE and THE FLUFF (rikiy/n is what i want in an relationship), can’t believe you can find the love of your life in genshin

# cupid’s corner — by @amakumos, ANOTHER GREAT SMAU, ITS JUST SO CUTE & RIKIY/N MAKES ME WANNA JUMP OFF A BRIDGE

# trial and error — by @kyyuri, AGHHHH, again rikiy/n>>the world

# beat the allegations — by @woonierkiz (aka my mutual), it only has two chapters for now BUT AHHHHHHHHH

# don’t date my brother — by @mosinterlude , LOVED HOW YOU ADDED KONON AND THE ANGST 🤌🤌, also love the fact that it has some idol’s sisters (and brother) <33

# soulmate tracker — by @son4taa, i remember reading this a while back but forgot about it im sorry 😭😭, ITS VERY GOOD THOUGH

# 💌 c u p i d 💘 — by @roseyrays (aka me!), yes this is self promoting 🤌🤌

# ( 尤も ) natural — by @ifearjwn, NOT THE PADDLE BOARD, y/n simps 🫵😁, love u riki, can’t wait for more chapters!

# oh, ni-ki you’re so fine! — by @aernx ,made by mutual! ,sooha jumpscare 😟, NI-KI SO CUTE

# JUNGWON

# stuck by glue — by @yyunari, WINX CLUB AU!, me when y/nwon 💖💖

# mint chocolate shirt — by @wonieleles, i love me some one-sided rivalry, won just stop being mean and kiss her already 🙄

# idol crush! — by @enhas-bestie, I WANT TO PUNCH THE ANTIS SO BAD

# whats after like?! — by @haew0nz, i forgot about what happened 😭, will reread but ik it’s good!!

# cat hotline ♡ — by @faelyncore, CATS AND LOVE=FAV

# wr⩇ng r⩇⩇m! — by @soov, SO CUTE SHSJSJSJSJ

# our beloved leaders — by @tzyuki, yes i just binged the whole smau today, f that zira anti fr, Y/NWON 😔😔🩷🩷

# JUNGWON & RIKI

# pick me! — by @urszn, YUUURRRRR

# SUNOO

(i only read one 😭 please recommend me some)

# ykwim? — by @astrae4, still only has a few chapters but i love it already 💖💖

# SUNGHOON

(i only read one 😭 please recommend me some)

# vlive confession — by @starjaeyun, ITS JUST SO AHH, waiting for more chapters 💖💖

# JAKE

# paper rings — by @117luv, the kids are adorable ❤️❤️, when he changed his user 💀

# dad diaries — by @117luv, spinoff of paper rings, cute ☹️❤️❤️

# hey prez!! ✰ — by @yeeunjia, on hiatus but really good ❤️

# rink of love — by @pagesofmiracles, so cute 😭😭🩷🩷

# JAY

unfortunately didn’t read a jay one yet 🫠 will read after i’m done with this

# HEESEUNG

# dear, heeseung — by @jungwnies, will reread ❤️, it’s cute too

# twitter sucks! — by @filmbyjy, the comedy here LMAO, riki in this is literally me

# curious cat — by @heerocks, AHHHH 💖

# JUST ADDED

# don’t date my brother — by @mosinterlude, LOVED HOW YOU ADDED KONON AND THE ANGST 🤌🤌, also love the fact that it has some idol’s sisters (and brother) <33

# soulmate tracker — by @son4taa, i remember reading this a while back but forgot about it im sorry 😭😭, ITS VERY GOOD THOUGH

# rink of love — by @pagesofmiracles, so cute 😭😭🩷🩷

# our beloved leaders — by @tzyuki, yes i just binged the whole smau today, f that zira anti fr, Y/NWON 😔😔🩷🩷

# 💌 c u p i d 💘 — by @roseyrays (aka me!), yes this is self promoting 🤌🤌

# ( 尤も ) natural — by @ifearjwn, NOT THE PADDLE BOARD, y/n simps 🫵😁, love u riki, can’t wait for more chapters!

# oh, ni-ki you’re so fine! — by @aernx ,made by mutual! ,sooha jumpscare 😟, NI-KI SO CUTE

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smau #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #heeseung #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong #park jay #sim jake x reader #sim jake #jake x reader #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon #sunghoon #kim sunoo x reader #sunoo x reader #kim sunoo #sunoo #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon #jungwon #riki nishimura x reader #riki x reader #ni ki x reader #riki nishimura #ni ki

[shirohige-pirates]

Just Like Fire

CisFem Reader x Portgas D. Ace

CW: angst, language, erotic, violence, serial killer, stalking, poisoning, over-bearing controlling parents, attempted forced marriage, possible dub-con, Munchausen by proxy (aka Factitious Disorder), wildly cute and fluffy despite the warnings. 18+ only

Summary: You're Sabo's biological sister in this AU. After college you moved in with your dear brother and his two sworn brothers in order to avoid going back home. You and Sabo despise your family equally.

Chapter 14: Steady

The steady beep of the heart monitor was a common sound for you to wake up too, even if it had been years since you had passed out and been hospitalized for it. You had been extra careful during college, because any incidents would’ve been used to bring you back home.

You let your eyes open slowly, and adjusted to the dim lighting in the room.

“Hey, lil’ spark.” Sabo says softly, taking your hand into his as you continue to come around. “You with me?”

“Thing so.” You mumble thickly, licking dry lips. “Think so. How long?”

“Only about,” Sabo looks at his watch and does some quick math. “Thirteen hours. I think that’s a record recovery time for you, especially given what all you went through.”

“What… happened?” You question, struggling to sit up a little, but Sabo puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay back, I’ll lean the bed up for you.” He says, and the soft click of a button brings you up slowly. You notice two lumps snoring in a single chair in the corner. Ace is tucked into the back of the chair with his legs draped over one arm rest, and Luffy is laying over him, drooling against Ace’s knees as the rest of his limbs are sprawled out.

“Good news is, Dr. Law met us at the hospital entrance and took over your care immediately. He removed, well, two poisons. He took some of what came from the medication, and all of what came from the food you ate.” Sabo explains slowly. He gives you a moment to think about what he’s already said.

“It wasn’t bad food.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“… Why?”

“Considering it effected just about everyone in the building, forcing several offices to send people home early, the current assumption is that it was a tactic to clear the building prior to setting fire to it.”

“Why not just… wait? Until night?”

Sabo shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe someone was making a point? Maybe some casualties were the goal, just not too many? Sorry, I don’t know enough yet.”

“S’only been thirteen hours.” You say giving him a weak smile. “Ace and Luffy?”

Sabo smiles widely. “They’re okay. You have quite the grip, sister dear.”

You tilt your head. “Huh?”

“You wouldn’t let go of Ace.” Sabo explains, his grin becoming more Cheshire cat-like as you feel your face heat up. “He had to ride in the ambulance with you, and Law had to use his curse to separate you when you arrived at the hospital.”

“I would like to sleep forever.” You pull the sheets up over your face. “Sabo, please.”

“Sorry, but my own feelings aside, I think Ace would object.” He admits with a soft chuckle. “Shall I tell you embarrassing things he did to help alleviate your mortification, sister dear?”

“… Please.”

“He said you called his fire pretty, then went on to ramble for a solid five minutes about how he would become flames forever if that’s what you wanted. It was quite poetic. Burning for you, being a guiding light, I should’ve recorded it. He basically confessed to Luffy and I.” Sabo explains, shooting quick glances to the sleeping forms in the corner and making sure they were still asleep.

“When he realized what he had said, he burst into flames and set the sprinklers off.” Sabo’s trying to suppress a laugh at the memory. “We had to switch rooms and Law was quite irritated when he brought you in from the ICU.”

You put a hand to your mouth, trying not to laugh. “That’s adorable.”

Sabo nods in agreement before looking over at them again and leaning in close. “Despite his usual demeanor, he has his own demons, lil’ spark.”

Sabo leans back and pats your hand. “Regardless, I am here for you. If this is what you want, let nothing discourage you.”

“That’s quite the praise.” You say with a smile.

Sabo shrugs. “He is, despite his belief, an exemplary human. Ah, but are you hungry? I’m sure I can find something for you to eat. It’s 4am, in a couple hours the cafeteria will be open.”

“Cafeteria food.” You say it with a groan and Sabo pats your hand.

“I can promise their food will not have been maliciously compromised, but I can go to a 24-hour drive thru if that is preferable?”

“I don’t think you can bring outside food in.”

“You cannot get caught bringing outside food in,” he corrects.

“Mmm, a hotdog then? Some design of warm sandwich sounds good.”

“Hotdogs aren’t sandwiches.” Sabo argues.

“Bread, meat, stuff – don’t argue with me, I’m in the hospital.” You grin.

Sabo makes a face and then chuckles. “Very well. Let me wake the guards before I leave.”

“Let them sleep.”

“They’ve slept.” Sabo insists. “I won’t leave you unattended.”

You roll your eyes, but smile anyway. You can’t argue with your brother being concerned for you. You were literally just in a burning building a few hours prior.

Sabo flicks Ace’s forehead and he wakes up with a snorted gasp, rubbing his forehead as he looks up at Sabo with aggravation. Sabo nods toward the bed and Ace sees you are awake. His expression brightens so much you can feel the heat rushing into your face from it.

“Oh he-guh.” He falls back into the chair, as his attempt to get up makes him realize Luffy had passed out on top of him. He heaves the younger man off him with a grunt, and despite the heavy thud, Luffy seems unbothered by being relocated.

“I’m going to find something for her to eat, keep an eye out while I’m gone.” Sabo says.

“Yeah, sure.” Ace agrees, stepping over Luffy and coming over to the chair Sabo had been using earlier. “Anything new?”

“No, not so far.”

“Sleep when you come back.” Ace calls out as Sabo leaves the room and you see your brother flinch. He gives Ace a disgruntled look, but doesn’t say anything back.

“He hasn’t slept yet?” You question Ace.

“Nah, but he’ll be okay for a couple more hours. I’ve seen Sabo pull an all-nighter back-to-back before.” He explains, giving you a smile before it turns into a yawn. “How’re you feeling?”

“I – uh… f-fine.” You stammer. Being aware of how explicitly he liked you, made his proximity raise your heartbeat. He was in his fireman’s pants and boots, a tight, white A-shirt that must’ve been under the uniform jacket that Luffy was currently laying on.

“You did good, you know?” Ace says, giving you a soft smile. “You didn’t hurl, and you held on tight. Just like I needed.”

“Sorry.” You mutter quietly, pulling your eyes away and fidgeting with the edge of the blankets.

Ace looks confused. “For?”

“Er… Sabo said it took… um… quite the effort to, uhm, free you.” You could almost feel yourself sweating, and even worse, the heart monitor was beeping noticeably faster.

Ace is biting his lip, trying not to laugh. “I wasn’t complaining.” He admits, giving you a small grin when you manage to look at him. Even in the dim light of the room you can see his cheeks turning pink under the freckles.

“You had other responsibilities, I’m sure.” You manage to say after a moment.

“Ah, I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate anyway. I’m glad it worked out how it did.” He admits.

You cover your face with your hands as the heart monitor beeps faster, causing an alarm to go off. A Nurse comes in from the night station and you point to Ace, and Ace points to himself.

“Sorry.” He says, as the nurse comes over and turns the alarm off.

She smiles at the two of you and goes about giving you a quick check. Once she’s satisfied, she takes the heart monitor and turns it away, muting the beeping sound and giving you a wink before she leaves.

A silence settles over you, but you keep stealing glances at each other and shy smiles turn into soft giggles and awkward laughs. You haven’t said anything, but you both want to, and you’re both giving each other the chance to start.

“I called your fire pretty.”

“You did.”

“It is.” You insist. “Can I see it again?”

“Yeah… uh, but not here.” Ace puts his hands up and points to the ceiling. “I could set the sprinklers off again and I don’t want to risk it.”

“Again?” You prompt, and when he looks at you, you can’t hold back the knowing laugh.

Ace turns so red you’re surprised he hasn’t caught fire. “Sabo.” He says, eyes narrowing.

You nod, covering your mouth and trying not to laugh. “He told me and then, um, gave his… su-support.” You stammer the words, but manage to keep your eyes on his.

Ace stares at you for a moment, and when his hair flickers, he puts a hand over it.

“We can talk, once we get home.” You say, fidgeting absently with the bed sheets again. “If you don’t mind.”

Ace’s mouth opens and closes a couple times, and he makes a few weird noises before he laughs at himself a little. “I – I don’t mind at all. I… oh man.” He stretches and looks around the room letting out a long breath of air. “I don’t know what to say now. I kind of want to run around the hospital a few times.”

He puts his hands over his face and leans back in the chair.

“You could.” You prompt.

“Nuh-uh. Not until Sabo gets back.” He answers.

“I… I can’t imagine an entire building was poisoned and set on fire just for, uh… me.”

He leans forward, and his face is uncharacteristically stern. “Probably not, but we don’t know. Until we know I’m not taking the risk. Neither is Sabo. If I stepped out for a few minutes and came back and you were hurt, or worse.” He shakes his head. “Not risking it.”

You don’t have time to say anything in response, before a new voice catches your attention.

“Good, you’re awake.” Law says, stepping into the room. He looks at the heart rate monitor, pressing a few buttons on it to turn the beep back on. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry, but good otherwise.” You answer. You were glad to hear the steady beep of the heart monitor.

The blue shift covers you and Law, and he begins to scan you again. “I didn’t remove as much of it as I would’ve liked.” He says flatly. “But under the circumstances, I wanted to err on the side of caution.”

“I understand.”

“Everything seems stable. I want you to eat and rest today. I don’t know what your work situation is going to be, given the fire, but tomorrow I’d like to still come by.”

“I’m being released then?” You question in surprise.

“Yes. You’re awake, you’re stable, your scan has come back as expected.” Law explains, as the blue shift fades. “People don’t often stay at my hospital for observation Miss (Y/N), but even so I’m quite certain you won’t be left unattended until I see you Wednesday.” He looks from you to Ace but doesn’t say anything more.

Despite your efforts, the heart monitor beeps a little faster.

#just like fire #portgas d ace #x reader #portgas d ace x reader #reader insert

[best-youtube-video-battle]

Round one

#Youtube

[silver-heller]

Hi again! I hope you don't mind me rambling. Also thanks for answering my questions! ^^ (Warning this is really long cause infodump, also a suprise at the end.):

I just dreamed a random dreamed where Wick confronts his sister aka Maristella. And then they reunited after a bit of a talking only of Maristella to syringe over the back his neck in sudden force. Shocking him as he look over to her eyes, they were filled with remorse, something that Wick rarely ever seen. He felt she embraced him tigthly whispering to his ears.

"I am very sorry my dear brother.." She softly whispering. His eyes submerged into to the pit of darkness, sleeping.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Maristella or Maire in my 'au' called Orchids jewelries.(A temporary name)

A sister of Wick who has been gone for a while, she once wrote a letter to Wick and Susannah (another younger sister of Wick)  that she only been out for a 'vacation' to take a break at her job, however stopped sending letters to them causing her relationship to Wick and Susannah to drift away. (She works as a dressmaker. Credits to my moot who helped me.)

In reality she may have half lied about it. The reason why Maristella haven't came back for like who knows how long, it's because she doesn't want to be involved with the family's drama. And yes she's could've have got married and live somewhere else but she didn't have any interest of those.

Lawrence (Wick's twin) asked Maristella for help as he unintentionally got framed, being accused of it. Hence Maristella helped him in a exchange for a deal.

One is keep the secret to prevent anyone knowing especially the family. Lawrence knows the true reason why Maristella left in the first place because they had been kept contact discreetly. (They used code names, and often go to private places, however since Maire doesn't really wanna go back, Lawrence just wrote a letter or chat her over a telephone.)

So basically I just spoiled my old au that needed some reworking to do, and is the family a bit mess up? Yes. Now infodumping for my oc's aka Wick's hc sibblings:

Lawrence Sable:

He is the eldest twin. His personality is stoic, strict and harsh twisted with arrogance since. His father raised him as the 'perfect man' so Lawrence once a young lad done several things what his father had told him just to get the approval, even it's meant breaking his bones. Until Wick came in part. because he think Wick wouldn't go ruined over his way to become a 'perfect' since Wick is too timid. Only for that to demolish when his father chose Wick over him. Hence he grew a resentment towards the family, moreso gaining a rocky relationship towards his own twin. Summary he is the more colder version of Wick.

While he deeply cares for his family, it's no longer the family he once knew or wanted.

(He's fur color is sliver but with brown undertones, blueish sliver eyes. And has more different markings than Wick usually has.)

(He also feel guilty for almost physically hurting Wick in the past due to releasing his anger, but again he kept his feelings locked. Not really having the courage to say sorry, hence Wick felt intimidated around him.)

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Susannah 'Sookie' Sable:

She is based on the Lackadaisy wiki I just read so this is like my hc of her, unlike Lawrence she's much generous and kind to her family even she knew the heinous side of it. She even comforted Wick once in childhood, after he was forced to shoot a duck, the two buried it to somewhere in the garden together. She visits Wick's mansion often to check him up making sure he has good sleep or have eaten foo. She also greets Lacy too. A mother hen type, she simply refuse to leave until Wick takes a break, that goes same for Lawrence.

I like to headcannon Wick called Susannah 'Sookie' is because for her passion at baking, and that some of the family members loves eating one of her pastries, especially cookies. She and Maristella also used to be really close but grew distant.

(Her design is still not decided, but I want to make her a brunnette, she dyed it over her giner hair. Her fur is much warmer brown color.)

She lives separately from her family, she doesn't really want her daugther to witness the ugly side of it really. Yes Sookie has a daugther named Lumi, Sookie used to be married but soon got divorced because of her husband, who was caught having a affair with another woman leaving her heartbroken.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Maristella 'Maire' Sable:

Maristella lastly is the youngest but more older than Charlotte (and probably as tall as Wick lol) She's was a former ballerina but soon retired for reasons, which is pure boredom. Maire soon took interest in outfits that were made by her aunt. So she participate on learning historical fashion and soon became a dressmaker. She's more closer to her auntie instead of her own mother, because she felt pressured or irritated whenever their mother is around.

She's seen as a mischievous lady towards her family mainly her 'mother'  because of her "rebellious" personality but she didn't care. She's the person would do whatever she please, sassy and cunning, willing to use her brains in situations. Their father loved her for her fierceness personality, though wished she was a boy instead.

(As the design, shes a lilac point siamese, her outfit would be elegant. Yet she won't hesitate to show off different types of outfit for experimenting, a bold kind of lady whether you like it or not.)

Relationship wise: Lawrence and her aren't best term of getting along well as usually the tend to insult each other's face, the good thing is they didn't killed each other. Which a lot of people questioned but brush it off as they only see it as normal sibblings bickering. After Maire left for a vacation, she and Lawrence had been in contact for a year dealing with well... Not good matters. (The two both wanted to deny the fact they care eachother, and that the reason why they are helping eachother is for business only.)

Sookie or Susannah, Maire thinks she's a decent woman, a kind one. In the past She felt much pride when her older sister admired her performance as a ballerina, they are close, but not as close as Wicks. Sadly she had to cut her connections to Sookie.

Next is Wick, her relationship with him is close really close. She finds Wick humorous and intelligent, at the flip side she finds Wick too.. Gullible for his own good. (Thus her being overprotective of Wick whenever a woman was flirting at him.) Shame again she distant herself towards her family.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Questions:

1. I wonder how would Charlotte react to Lawrence, Susannah, and Maristella? Especially if Sookie had told her she's a aunt now. (Aka Lumi is now her neice.)

2. Not a question but here are scenarios what I think would happened if Charlotte meets them:

•If Lawrence meet Charlotte, let's say he'll treat her as the same he treat his family, distant. Unless if she get herself in secrets Lawrence has been hiding then sadly he'll won't spare her life, besides he had to finish what needs to be done. (He already dislike her.)

•If Susannah meets Charlotte she would try her best to be nice to her like she always does. But that doesn't mean won't call out the things Charlotte done, she just wish Charlotte learn good values like being humble, instead whatever their father did. If Charlotte misbehave towards her daugther then she will be mad at her. (Threatening "You hurt my daugther, and I'll make sure you'll never see the day of the light again." Kind of.)

•If Maire ever meets Charlotte after or before she disappeared, then she would absolutely teases and annoy the ever life out of her. Will 100% use her as a bait, revenge for stealing one of her dressing she made.

•••••

Edit: man writing this makes me think they have the most deadly silent akward family meetings or dinners (more akward when Maire left for no reason). They may look like a perfect family in outside, but inside you get a whole mess of a flood.

Also the suprise, I drew some fanart btw. A interpretation of Charlotte, the one in the right (I tried my best so feel free to do some changes.) And featuring Maire, the tall lady wearing a bun is in the left.:

Charlotte if she attempt to talk over Maire:

Eve if she did tried intimidating or insult Maire, it wont work otherwise the result wont be pretty, cause Maire is someone you don't just mess around with. And she's definitely going to use Charlotte weakness as her weapon. (Unless half of the sable sibblings minus Wick and Sookie, declare a war- Not really.)

That's all, thanks for listening my rambling, have a good Day/Night! (Feel free to give feedbacks or anything.)

Oooo, I found them all so interesting! Definitely an intriguing and chaotic collective for sure. I enjoy what you did with each of them to really flesh out the family dynamic.

I imagine Charlotte would be distant with the others, I could see her disliking how cold Lawrence is and Marie's rebellious side. I think she'd be jealous of Sookie though, wanting a family of her own.

Thank you so much for drawing Charlotte, I love it! Charlotte definitely deserves to be put in her place a little.

#undescribed #reddresson👗

[hausofmamadas]

| Always short to the gate |

⁂

Pairing: David Barrón & Enedina Arellano Félix

For my df, dear friend, and fellow writer @purplesong1028 - Candyhearts Exchange 2023

Word count: ≈ 7.8K

TWs: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of violence

✷Disclaimer - This is an AU version of Barron, to the point that mans is essentially my OC. So, for purposes of morality/sanity/all that is holy, we disregard Nmx - S3, ep8, Last Dance. For more details, refer -> here. On a similar note: if I have to say “not condoning/glorifying the real people” aka “I don’t sanction the real-life actions of drug cartels,” I implore thee, look where you are. You’re in the wrong place. Best take that elsewhere porque no hay bronca, for civility's sake, we will not be going there✷

Still, these were all things to wish for, not to have. What was left now? What if some things were better dreamt than done? David Barron is in love. He's in love and he does care who knows it. Particularly, if the brutal, savage cartel-boss brothers of the woman he loves, Enedina Arellano Felix, know it. But what’s he to do when he's taken by another powerful cartel leader, in retaliation for Dina's secret side-project moving coke across the Tijuana/San Ysidro border with fellow drug baroness, Isabella Bautista? In the face of a potentially more imminent death para su rayo de luna, can Dina afford to keep both him, and the business she built from the ground up, a secret?

⁂

So, this is it. I finally made it. Staring at the crowd, all the bigwigs laughing and clinking their champagne flutes, and now that I’m here, I can’t figure what all the fuss was about. Because in my whole damn life, I’ve never been to a party like this. Frankly, I’d sooner hit up a barbecue at Chato’s grandma’s trailer or a tailgate in Chicano Park, than show up willingly to a place like this.

The guest list is a family tree of Sinaloan-born narcos and an obnoxious who’s-who of Mexico City elites. Men come down from the ivory tower to grace all the thieves and plebes. Fat cats in pressed gray suits. Although, the champagne-glass pyramid is pretty cool. And somehow, this isn’t even as lavish as last year? At least according to Ramón. When we arrive, he explains that there was still all of well ... everything. But last year kicked off harder because Güero and Co rolled through with a life-size train and a tiger in a gilded cage. A fucking tiger.

“Pendejos only did it to kiss Miguel’s ass, que sean tan mamónes,” he growls, shooting a dead-eyed stare at Chapo across the lawn.

I laugh into the highball glass I’m sipping from. I don’t normally drink at events like this, and on the off chance I do, always a Corona with a lime ‘cause it reminds me of home. But thank you, no. I would not like to keep my tab open.

Except this time, the over-interested hostess practically forces a drink on me when we get there. No clue who she is either, except she must’ve been a high-roller herself or at least married to one, based on the obscene dress she’s wearing. Fuck if I know a thing about designer shit, but I can spot the difference between black-tie and fuck-you money. And I’m not in the habit of saying “no” to fuck-you money. Even if she is smiling and touching my shoulder too much.

My eyes wander, looking for Dina, brooding an invisible SOS into the night air, hoping she might swoop in and save me, but she’s nowhere in sight. Neither is Mín. I smack Ramón in the chest with the back of my hand. “Oye, dónde está tu hermana?” <'Hey, where is your sister?'>

He shakes his head.

The fuck did she go? The only reason I’m even at this glorified peacock-fest, and— oh wow, yeah, there are actual peacocks wandering around on the lawn by the lake. No tigers, but of course the night isn’t complete without some form of exploited wildlife. No, the only reason I’m here is because she asked me. Or rather, because of what came out when she asked me.

✺

Dina sat on Mín’s desk, legs dangled over the side, smoking a cigarette like always, and eyeing me slyly from across the room as I buttoned my shirt back up.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you?” I asked, readjusting my collar.

“What?”

“That it’s rude to stare.”

She threw her head back, laughing.

“Yeah, they must’ve had some lesson at whatever charm school you probably went to.”

Her mouth dropped open in mock outrage, “Charm school? No me digas esas shingaderas, hombre. I wasn’t as poor as you but we didn’t have that kind of money.” <Charm school? Don't give me that bullshit, man. I wasn’t as poor as you but we didn’t have that kind of money.>

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, “Ah, tu lo sabes? Tienes razón. <Ah, you know what? You're right.> Because the working-class shit I’ve heard outta your mouth?” and shook my head. “They wouldn’t have let you in the building.”

She snapped her fingers. “Sí, David. Now he’s getting it.”

“Well, then that would explain it.”

“Explain what?”

“Why you don’t know it’s rude to stare at someone like that.”

Her voice shot up half an octave into the range of feigned innocence. “Like what?”

“Like they’re dessert.”

“Es solo porque eres tan dulce. <It's just because you're so sweet.> Maybe I just can’t get enough. Maybe I have no choice.”

I looked up at her, smiling wide, all love-struck-stupid ‘cause I couldn’t help myself. “‘Can’t get enough,’ like you didn’t just get a three course meal.”

She kicked her heels against the desk, then hopped off and strolled over. I made a face when she flicked her cigarette on the ground and stamped it out. “Your brother’s gonna hate that.”

“Ya lo sé, y no me importa ni una mierda.” <Oh, I know and I don't give a shit.>

“Oh, sí? Pues lo haría tampoco <Oh, yeah? Well, I wouldn't either> pero the second he sees it, he’ll think I did it.”

Voice dropping just above a whisper, she came closer, “If he does, he can take it up with me,” and slid her hands under my shirt. “It’s as much mine as it is his. Maybe more even.”

They felt cold through the thin, ribbed fabric of my undershirt, gliding around my waist, creeping around to brush my lower back with her fingertips. At first, I thought she was going for my pant pockets, until her thumb hooked around the handle of the gun in my waistband. It startled me in spite of myself.

She smirked, practically presenting it, barrel pointed up at the ceiling. “Sorry, were you gonna need this? Or can we remove the ‘fire’ hazard.”

Taking the gun and grumbling, “You know there’s a safety, right,” I leaned over and set it on the filing cabinet against the wall.

When I turned my attention back to her, she tightened her grip around my waist suddenly and backed me up against the door. She tried bracing with her other arm so I wouldn’t fall back too hard. It didn’t work. A second thud, my head smacking the door, followed the first of it slamming shut. Still, the though that counts, right? My pained smile complemented a look of amused pity on her face.

Laughing, she winced and mouthed, “Shit, sorry!”

“So, this is how you treat your employee—“ she cut me off with a few well-timed, remorseful kisses.

She pulled back breathlessly, grinning, almost electrified. “Yeah, why do you think I took your gun away?”

“Mmm, yeah, would’ve been a hazard.”

“That, yes. But mostly I didn’t want you to feel like you were on the clock,” she murmured against my mouth, “this isn’t meant to be company time,” then caught my lower lip gently with her teeth.

I sucked in a harsh breath, not a chance in hell of suppressing the feral rumble already escaping the back of my throat.

It might’ve been fine. I might’ve been able to tear myself away, because we’d already been there too long, nevermind it was never long enough.

Until her lashes brushed my cheek and I heard, “Ah, how I love to hear you, guapo.”

My heart bottomed out in my stomach. I got ahold of the collar of her jacket on both sides. Rocking her back, easy and gentle, I slid it slow off her shoulders. Goosebumps followed the path of my fingertips across her neck, collarbones, down the backs of her arms. The metal buttons clinked against the floor. A bell announcing another round.

And all of a sudden, I couldn’t get at her fast enough.

I swept my arm around her waist, hand sliding into the curve of the small of her back, the other palming the spot between her shoulder blades to flatten her against me. If I could just bring her close enough for us to melt together and into the wood grain of the door, the better to freebase the air she breathed, the smell of her hair, the blood rushing to her face.

How many nights had I spent awake, staring at the cracked plaster ceiling of my cell, dreaming of moments like this. I’d lost count a long time ago. And okay, maybe not exactly like this. The feeling. The wholeness to it. But not the details. Like I never could’ve predicted the boxy radio with the giant antenna that played from its sketchy spot on the window ledge, too close to the edge; day in and day out while we worked. Or the way the sun lit the dust in the air like the office was an attic in an old house that wasn’t ours. And Dina, all nimble fingers now, working my belt buckle. No way I could’ve dreamt her up. She was too complete for that.

Still, these were all things to wish for, not to have. What was left now? What if some things were better dreamt than done?

Suddenly self-aware, I wondered what it’d be like if just now, she could feel that inferno of memories at the tip of my tongue, burning through my lips to hers. If she could learn, inhaling every breath I took, things I’d share without saying a word. I wished she could. Maybe that’s why her kisses were so urgent now. Sharp, demanding, like she couldn’t get close enough. Like she’d occupy the exact same space if she could.

Don’t hide. Let me in. Anything. Tell me anything.

She was funny like that. Didn’t even know how far she’d gotten. So much further than most.

Lips still locked to mine like cross examining a witness, her hands grazed my jaw, my neck, practically mauling the collar of my shirt to get the buttons undone. I should’ve known not to bother earlier. This was the way it went with us. Part of the ritual, pretending we were done. Getting ready to leave, all raw nerves in the afterglow. Anxious awareness, never far behind not-near-enough satisfied. Because no matter how careful we were, there was a chance we’d be caught all the same. But we were never ready. Not really. So, we’d stall enough to justify starting up again. Living in each other as much as we could. Wringing out every last drop to bottle it up, a fail-safe supply for later. Another bump, another hit to tide us over. ‘Til next time. If we got one.

She’d only made it two buttons down when we both froze. A crashing sound, loud echoes of metallic clanging. Fuck. Someone on the main floor. We repelled to opposite sides of the room before we could think long enough to be disappointed.

I fixed my shirt, then grabbed Dina’s jacket from the floor and tossed it to her. “You said no one was supposed to be here till tonight?”

She caught it, draping it over one arm so she could get her cigarette holder out of one of the pockets. Trying her level best to look composed, she took one out and lit up. But I could see the tells; beads of sweat on her forehead; that too-quick rise and fall of her chest.

Eyes wide, she shrugged, at a loss. “They’re not. Pancho’s with Món at the racetrack. Apparently betting against some new horse Güero and Chapo brought up from Mazatlán. Mín’s taking Ruth to one of her appointments.”

I walked to the window and looked out onto the main floor. It was easy to make out a head of black hair bobbing just beyond the giant, industrial-sized forklift, partially blocking my view. My eyes followed it along the top of the forklift’s arm until Nestor came out from behind it, puttering around and practically strangled by a few long chains from one of the trucks. He swore, dropping them again. Poor guy. The links jittering against the cement floor filled the warehouse with what sounded like twisted, metallic laughter. Mocking him. Us.

“Who is it?” She asked it like she wasn’t looking out the same window.

Without a word, I turned and walked back toward the door. She followed, “Pinshe Nestor, este wey &lt;Nestor, this fuckin' guy>,” waving her hand dismissively at the window.

I couldn’t resist. “Mmm right? Fuck that guy. Yea, go yell at him, chew him out, tell him why you’re annoyed.”

She narrowed her eyes but in that way she did when she was stifling a smile. When she knew I was right.

“You know, it didn’t occur to me until this moment.” Sighing and cupping my chin gently, she turned my face from side-to-side to examine it. “But I think I just realized why you’re so quiet.”

My eyebrow shot up, not a clue where she was going with this.

“It’s this smart mouth of yours,” she mused, grazing my lip with her thumb, “gotten you into too much trouble.”

I brought her hand from my cheek to my lips and hummed into her palm, “Mm, mhmm,” before nibbling a few besitos across. “Funny coming from you, always trying to get me to talk. But only when you like what I have to say.”

“Ay chulito pues, I didn’t say I minded it,” she winked. “Just not when it’s used against me.”

“Mm yea, don’t play that way. I’m an equal opportunity offender.”

At that, she laughed, eyes closed, full-out, no doubt loud enough to be heard on the first floor. Remembering Nestor, I let her hand drop but held onto the tips of her fingers. I couldn’t be sure how long we stayed like that, twining and un-twining our fingers in silence; every once in a while pressing palms together; two kids in the sandbox, comparing to see whose were bigger. If we’d never stopped, I wouldn’t have cared a lick.

Something must’ve hit her though because her face fell. Serious. Troubled. Thoughts descended in real-time, only I couldn’t make out what they were.

Until she breathed out, “Oye.”

It wasn’t like her to retreat but when I looked up, she said nothing else. Just chewed ferociously on the inside of her cheek. I waited, eyes drifting back down to watch our fingers and knuckles, still rhythmically locking and unlocking.

Breaking the silence, she gave it another shot. “Miguel’s party is on Saturday.”

“Yeah.”

There it was again, another retreat. What the fuck was she gonna say that she was so nervous to say it?

“And?”

It came out soft like a secret. “Go with me?”

Huh. Whatever I thought she might say, it sure as shit wasn’t that. Not … asking me to the dance? Disbelief chipped away at my usual poker face and without thinking, I blurted, “What? Why?”

Zero-to-sixty in four seconds flat and now she was fuming.

“Why? What do you mean ‘why?’”

Senseless. I knew it then. Should’ve walked it back. Found a better way to ask. But still, it was the only thing that came out of my mouth and all too matter-of-fact.

“I mean like ... why.”

Her jaw cocked to one side. She looked like she wanted to slug me. Because despite the fact that I wasn’t family, had never even met Miguel, had no business being there, somehow it was the dumbest question in the world.

“There’s—” I fumbled for words, raking my hand up and down the back of my head. “I just— why would I be there? You don’t need security. He’s the main man. No doubt he’ll have his own.”

“Because.”

“Because,” I shot back flatly.

“Because.”

“Think your brother, my boss, is gonna need more than ‘because.’ Even from you.”

“You’d be surprised.” She cracked a smile.

That’s right. Stubborn. Impossible. And she knew it. Like a reflex or muscle memory, my face settled into that thousand yard stare, the one she and so many others felt the need to decode.

She conceded, “Because. Okay?” throwing her hands up and letting them fall. They smacked her hips on the way back down and the rest came out in practically one breath. “Because even though he’s a genius and he’s technically family, Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo is the most insufferable man in all of Mexico. I can’t stand him and I can’t stand almost everyone else on that fucking guest list. Así qué quiero que estés allí porque ya todos los odio. Pero a ti te quiero. <So, maybe I want you there because I hate all of them. But I love you.>"

Wait, come again? She didn’t just— no, but she did.

Pero a ti te quiero.

“Oh.”

I turned around, fell against the door, pressing into it with my forehead, and didn’t say anything for a long time. Mind searching for an explanation: the timing, why now? What day was it? What date was it? What was different about now?

I’d woken up in the same bed in that cramped apartment just down the street from Parque Teniente, the first one I could find when I got to Tijuana months ago. Woken up the same damn person. As far as I knew, so had she. There was nothing especially extraordinary about today. If anything it was routine, sneaking into Mín’s office when we knew no one would be there, away from prying eyes: Alicia, Ruth, their mother, the gaggle of Arellano women who always seemed to be at the house. Away from Pancho, who’d made a habit of passing out, snoring until three in the afternoon, on the pull-out couch at my place.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the more it sank in how unremarkable the day was. Maybe something happened. Some earth-shattering event she hadn’t told me about yet, something that would explain the sentence that just left her lips and turned reality into something like the dimensions of a funhouse mirror.

Shit, how long had I been standing there with my head against the door? How long had she been waiting? No idea. Did it matter? Of course it did. This wasn’t something silence could solve. Or even put off. Not that there was anything to solve.

I turned back around to face her, half-wincing, anticipating her fury. A satisfied smirk had settled in the corners of her mouth. She wasn’t mad. Just leaned against the desk, puffing away, which was ... odd. I scanned her face for any indication, clenched jaw, flared nostrils, blazing brown eyes, some sign of impending apocalypse. But no, she looked serene. Smug even, tickled at how surprised I was. No, she wasn’t mad at all.

Oh.

And it hit me. I could see it so clearly now in the way she stood with her hip out and how she held her cigarette off to the side, wrist lax, nothing to worry about. Why she wasn’t mad. She knew there was nothing to worry about. This wasn’t a confession. No grade-school picking petals off flowers, ‘he loves me, he loves me not.’ She hadn’t said it in the hopes that in return, she’d hear the same. Because it was plain as day. Fucking obvious. Not a doubt in her mind.

It was funny too ‘cause that had been sealed away in a vault in some deep, dark corner of my mind, cordoned off by an electric fence, wrapped in several yards of barbed wire and caution tape. WARNING. POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS. I barely knew because I barely allowed myself to. That came easy as it always did. Or easier anyway than feeling and not knowing what to do, where to put it. So I barely knew. Maybe it was now that I only just realized it, in a fully-formed thought.

A ti te quiero también.

But it felt wrong, seemed to make the moment small somehow, if I were to say it out loud back to her. Forced for obligation, ceremony’s sake, and altogether pointless when she already knew.

So I just said, “Fine.”

Her eyes lit up, filled to the brim with, you really mean it?

“Yeah, fine, I’ll go.”

She beamed. My own personal sun.

“But you figure whatever fake reason to tell your brothers. I ain’t sayin’ shit.”

She squeezed my hand. Any tighter and it would’ve cut the circulation. Not quite the deliverance that launching at each other would’ve been, sweeping all the papers and supplies off of Mín’s desk, not giving a shit what broke as it hit the floor, buttons popping loose from my shirt and rolling on the ground as she tore it off, taking each other carnally hostage right there. But with Nestor still downstairs, it’d have to be enough.

✺

So here I am. And she’s missing in action.

A hand comes down on my shoulder. Ramón’s. “Mira nada más <Look what we have here>,” he chuckles pointing to Ms. Fuck-You-Money. “Esa chulita been eyeing you all night.”

I roll my eyes.

Món chokes out, laughing through a sip of champagne, “Ay qué duro, cabron. <Ey, tough fucker.> Good answer. Attention from a woman like that? That’ll get you killed, or worse.”

Lost, I shoot him a look of confusion.

“What’s the look for.”

“What’re you talking about?” I say shaking my head.

“Wait d— you don’t know who that is?”

I stare at him through half-lidded eyes.

He can barely contain his amusement and I could bust that Cheshire-cat smile wide open for it, the chistoso. See, ‘cause it’s something I’ll never understand but Ramón lives for shit like this. How many times I wished I felt the same or could at least access some similar well of couldn’t-give-a-fuck charisma that allowed the kid to cut loose, no matter where he went. Unless he was in one of his moods. Still, his glee is infectious if not foreign. So despite being miffed, I’m grateful he’s here.

“That’s— okay, that’s Miguel’s wife, Daniela.”

“Thought her name was like Marta? María? Something else?”

“Oh nooo, no, no, no.” Ramón jiggles his head back and forth. “That’s his first wife. This is his second.”

My eyebrows shoot up.

“Yeah, right?” Món shrugs. “Tío moves fast apparently. Upgraded to a new model already. Personally, I don’t get it. Should’ve stuck with the classic. And María,” he looks at me and whistles, “qué clásico.”

We both watch Miguel work a group of sleazy-looking politicians. I don’t need to be up close to imagine how badly they reek of too-expensive, tacky cologne, or how clammy their hands are, sweating because they’ve been mainlining too much sauce and blow. My eyes drift to Daniela who’s pointing around theatrically to the outdoor decor. Like her husband, she’s smooth-talking another group of guests.

That’s when it clicks. As she dances from a group of Senators, to a group of financial hacks, to a group of mid-level distributors, I can’t help but think how busy bees flit. Flower to flower, pollinating each one. Stroking the right egos, smiling, leaving a hand on a shoulder just long enough to make them think they might have a shot with the big man’s wife. From everything I’ve heard about Miguel, he might let them, for the right price. That fact fills me with equal measures of sadness and relief. Sad for her. Relief to know it’s a hustle, an award-winning performance. Though why she’s been wasting time on me, a friend of the Arellano family at best, low-level Arellano goon at worst, is anyone’s guess.

“Seems she’s like that with everyone.”

“Oh no, carnal. With you? That shit’s real. She knows you’re with us.” Ramón reaches for my face like he’s about to pinch my cheek. “Not some rich politician’s secret love child.”

“Ey, no mames, cabrón.” I swat it away with a smirk, so he knows we’re simpatico. “You and Pancho always fixin’ to get me in more trouble than I’m ever looking for.”

I think of Dina just then and how it’s possible for lies to lag like that sometimes. Feeling like truth ‘til the words are well outta your mouth.

As if anxiety’s summoned her to me, out of the corner of my eye, I catch Dina walking toward us. On her way over, she grabs a drink from a guy standing by the bar holding two champagne glasses, someone she mistakes for a waiter. Based on the beet red look on his face, he turns to be a guest. He flips out and at first, Dina looks ready to apologize and move on. No big deal.

It’s not until he starts pointing his finger in her face, “Qué verga, vieja? No soy un pinshe mesero <What the fuck, lady? I'm not a fuckin' waiter>,” that I glance at the ground to hide a smile. I know what’s coming but this poor bastard doesn’t. It’s always satisfying to watch Dina work, handling men who make mistakes like that. No doubt it’d be a scathing indictment but never done in the same way. Refreshing, that kind of variety. I always respected it.

She leans back, eyeing the guy up and down, then walks over, purposely slow, all the time in the world, to a real waiter holding a tray. Grabbing a new glass, she walks back and shoves it into the guy’s hand, taking extra care to make sure it spills on his jacket. Beads of sweat and outrage pour from him, as he looks down at his damp lapel in disgust.

She waves her index finger back and forth between them, “Listo, pues. Ya estamos? <Well, then. We good?>” and points at Ramón next to me. “Or shall I have my brother, Ramón—“ she waves, “Hi Món! Yeah, that one. The tall one over there. Shall I ask him to step in, help mediate the matter?”

Everyone’s eyes shoot straight to Món who, on cue, flashes a smile so diabolical, the devil himself would’ve tipped his hat in appreciation. Still fuming, the guy brushes the front of his jacket and straightens his collar but says nothing.

“Aye,” Dina punctuates with a dip of her head. “Eso es lo que pensaba. <Yeah, that's what I thought.>"

And that seems like the end of it until she a twenty out of her wallet in that impossibly tiny purse. “Ey, next party you go to, if you want to avoid being confused with the catering staff, maybe don’t wear a dinner jacket. It’s a nice house, sure. Not the fucking Met.”

The guy is mute, shocked as she slips the bill in his breast pocket and glides away. Even a few feet away, I can already see her rolling her eyes and giggling as she makes her way to us.

Ramón says, cackling, “I thought maybe you were going to ask for a bottle there, crack him over the head with it,” as she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“No, no. We couldn’t embarrass our tío querido could we. Besides,” she gives a cavalier wave toward the guy, “Drastic measures like those are reserved for Chapo. Or Cochi.”

I look at the two of them standing with Güero on the other side of the DJ platform. They look like they’re enjoying themselves about as much as I am.

I make eye contact with Güero briefly before I feel another hand on my shoulder. Dina’s?

“What no hug for me?”

I catch her awkwardly with one arm, stiffening as she pulls me in too close and for too long.

“Woo,” Món hoots. ”Creo que Enedina ha tomado un poquito demasiado. <I think Enedina's had one too many.>"

She bats him in the arm. “Ay que no, if you’d had the conversation I just had with Mín, you’d be chugging this,” she knocks back the last few sips of champagne, then holds up the glass, “like water too.”

“Why? What happened?”

”Oh nothing, he just–“ she lets out a hefty sigh. “Just rolled over for Miguel like he always does.”

Before Món can ask anything else, Dina’s face lights up at someone behind him.

All drunk swagger, Pancho waltzes over, a drink in each hand, yelling, “Estos cabrooooones. I been looking all over for you.”

He sidles next to Ramón, who reaches for the other drink in his hand. He pulls back. “Qué shingadas? <What the fuck?> I didn’t bring this for you.”

Món pulls a face like Pancho just kicked over a sandcastle he spent hours building.

I hold my hands up in defeat, chuckling, “Ey I didn’t ask him to bring me anything. Knowing this pruno-king, I bet they’re both his.”

“Y esto? Esto es porque es mi compa. Él me conoce <And this? This is why he's my homie. He gets me>,” Pancho slurs, with a tipsy smile, eyes half shut.

“Qué pedo <What the hell>, is everyone drunk here besides me?” Món catches me smiling and rolls his eyes. “Tú no, rarito &lt;Not you, weirdo>. You don’t count.”

Glancing at the crowd around us, Pancho asks “Where’s Mín?” and stumbles back, nearly planting his ass on the lawn.

He grabs Món for support, who already looks startled as Dina shoves her empty glass at him. “Who cares? Yo quiero bailar,” she declares, grabbing my hand.

She yanks me with such force, I wonder if I look like one of those Loony Toons characters, a regular Beaky Buzzard swept offscreen by Bugs Bunny with a giant cane.

Behind us Pancho and Ramón are busting up laughing. “Panchito, I think she might be drunker than you are.”

Pancho holds up one of his drinks in salute. “Aaaaaayyy órale, mi brujita!”

My hand firmly in hers, Dina shimmies around the other couples on the dancefloor. When she finds a spot she deems satisfactory, she turns and snaps me towards her, gliding her hand up my right arm to my shoulder, and moving my left around her waist. I’m lost in static. My heart’s beating fast. Too fast, like a hummingbird caught all up in my chest and each beat of its wings jolts my rib cage, while it tries to jailbreak outta there.

And it’s not the proximity that’s got my blood up, really. It’s her. It’s rare to see Dina overflowing with this kind of reckless joy. So rare in fact, there’s a gravity to it, a pull magnified by irregularity, that makes it harder to resist. In tandem with the music, I’m goner, already falling into it. But what does any of it matter, when I know how she feels now. Just the same as me.

✺

We finish with a dip, and the blurry wall of lights and onlookers, among them the suspicious face of Mín, the curious face of Ramón, and the drunk glassy eyes of Pancho, become crystal clear again, as I bring Dina back up. The song changes and I let go, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. Making my way off the dancefloor, she follows close, reassuring in a low voice, “It’ll be fine, amor. They know I’m tipsy.”

“Yeah. And they know I’m not.”

Although— I look over at the bar. Fuck it, I could fix that now. Before we can reach Mín, Món, and Pancho, standing by the DJ booth, I tear through the crowd, right to the bar. Fuck any rules. This is Def Con One and that lapse in judgment could only be reasonably explained to the Arellano boys by both of us being shitfaced. I flag down a bartender.

“Shot of tequila.”

“What kind?”

I eye him coolly. “Whatever. Dealer’s choice.”

Willing myself not to be too twitchy, conspicuous, I glance around to make sure Benjamín hasn’t sicced Món on me. That look of disapproval on his face is going to be seared to the backs of my eyelids for days. Maybe weeks. Not a chance in hell that he’d overlook that display. As far as Ramón, who looked more intrigued than anything, jury’s still out. Might be he’d follow Mín’s lead. That is, unless Dina were to intervene, which– that’d be something she’d have to do. I’d never ask her. Not an option. That leaves Pancho who’s unlikely to give a shit. Or if he did, he’s too drunk now to make a show of it. But no, even sober, we’ve been homies through and through. He’d have my back. Maybe the only one.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Christ, all of it, already a fucking mess. It hasn’t spilled out entirely from my head onto the world, but only a matter of time.

A whistle from someone a barstool away interrupts the game of 3D chess I’m playing with myself, trying to compute then varying combinations of factors and events that could end me. I’m so in it, it takes me a beat to even realize they’re whistling at me.

“Ey, dónde aprendiste a bailar como eso? <Hey, where did you learn how to dance like that?>” someone asks quietly, in familiar but strangely-accented Spanish.

I turn to shoot a fuck-off stare to whoever, but when I’m met with the sight of an odd-looking, half-bald, ginger dude in jeans, a denim jacket, and a pair of Jordans that probably cost more than my first car, I’m taken aback by the expression on his face. Strange-like, fondly admiring, but more like he’s observing a zoo animal, exotic as those peacocks waddling across the lawn, than a person.

“Viene de familia.” <Runs in the family.>

All the odd guy says is, “Ah,” and then proceeds to fiddle with the toothpick in his mouth and survey the crowd.

Based on how he’s dressed, it’s clear this dude isn’t a regular guest. If I had to put my money on anything? Sicario. No question. Because even though he doesn’t have the trademark hyper-vigilance, coiled up tight, a piston ready to pop, the strange little homie does have a cracked look I recognize. Like he doesn’t need to be on-guard because he’s past the point of feeling much beyond general amusement.

I’d come up with a couple guys like this back home. Met even more of them in prison. You could tell who they were because they didn’t pretend to be concrete copies of themselves. Already born steel people, they never needed to bother with the mandatory, self-imposed identity mutilation necessary to survive in the Petri dish of the California Department of Corrections. But the most interesting thing about them? Scary as they could be, they’re also some of the more honest criminals I’ve dealt with. At least, those who’re murder-for-hire, not murder-for-fun.

Spotting the shiny, engraved handle of a pistol in his waistband, I whistle, “Nice, .357?”

He doesn’t take it out to show it off, just flashes a slinky, joker smile. “You got a good eye.”

“Likewise. Dope piece.”

Yeah, definitely more than your average muscle. The real pros don’t tend much to show and tell. But who the guy works for, I can’t figure exactly. Given that I had to give up my own weapon before we came through, I’m guessing he’s Miguel’s muscle. Looking over at a doorway filled with the broad shoulders and Fabio-like hair of Miguel’s top security guy, Tony, I try picturing these two working together and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Eh, it’s too hard— it’s nothin’.”

The strange homie responds with an amused snort but doesn’t press further. We go back to our mutual but silent surveillance. I can’t see the Arellanos anywhere, but I do spot the Sinaloa crew making their way to the exit by the bar. The weird little guy waves at them like they’re the oldest of friends. I nearly give myself whiplash, looking back and forth from Strange Homie to Güero and Cochi’s pained smiles and an outright look of disgust from Chapo.

“Those are the guys who brought the tiger last year,” Strange Homie helpfully explains, still waving.

“Man, everyone keeps telling me about that tiger. Guess I missed out.”

“You weren’t here last year?”

Still looking around for Ramón, I shake my head, stating absentmindedly, “Haven’t been to any kinda shit like this in my life.”

If Benjamín hadn’t already put him up to cutting me into little pieces, I would’ve at least expected Món to be hot on the heels of the Sinaloa crew, if only to berate, and harass, and swear at them as they’re leaving. And yet, he’s nowhere. Shoot, maybe Mín decided not to even bother chasing me down, and they just bounced. Left me there. Dina would be pissed but all things considered, I’d be getting off lightly. Compared to other possibilities. Could I be so lucky?

I turn my attention back to Strange Homie.

A jackal-like grin brightens his whole face. “Yeah, you did miss out. I got to feed it.”

“Big animal fan, huh?”

Strange Homie considers the question seriously as though it requires an answer, deep or existential in some way. But what he comes back with is relatively simple. “I guess, apex predators, yeah.”

“Easiest to relate to?” I joke.

The jackal smile back again as he exclaims, “Exacto!” Only this time, it bears sincerity that makes it more endearing than unsettling.

I raise my shot glass, saluting, “Makes sense to me.” An implied given what I know about you, unsaid in the air as I knock the shot back. Strange Homie likely knows, has probably been profiling my own profiling this whole time.

“So, you are not from around here?” Strange Homie ventures, as I catch the bartender’s attention to order another shot.

“From Guadalajara?”

Strange Homie shrugs and nods.

“Nah. You?”

He says with a knowing smirk, “Do I sound like I’m from Guadalajara?”

I shake my head, chuckling to myself. The bartender brings another shot and I put it away, perfunctory, then bite into the lime. It’s so sour, I feel shooting pangs in the sides of my mouth and tongue. The sensation of pain, concrete and tangible enough to focus on, brings me back to me.

I wipe my mouth and clear my throat. “You don’t sound like you’re from Guadalajara, but I got a few camaradas back home who sound kinda like you. Colombianos.”

“Good eye. Good ear,” Strange Homie notes, a hint of approval in his voice.

“The melting pot of America.”

“Ah, entonces eres un gringo?” <Oh, you're a gringo then?>

“Te has visto, hombre? De donde vengo, eres más gringo que yo.” <Have you seen yourself, man? Where I'm from, you're more gringo than me.>

I half-expect Strange Homie to be offended but he just snickers and nods in agreement. “Pues, tal vez tengas razón. Supongo que quiero decir que eres un gabacho.” <Well, maybe you're right. I guess I mean to say, you're a foreigner.">

“Close enough.”

“Well gabacho, un placer. Yo soy Navegante.” He reaches out to shake hands.

I extend mine tentatively, “David Barrón.”

As we stand there, forearms bobbing up and down slowly, a look of calculation and sorrow fills Strange Homie’s eyes. Something about it, and the way he says, “You seem like a cool guy. I wish we hadn’t talked so much.” I can’t quite put my finger on why it makes my stomach drop.

Fuck. Dina. Where are they. The Arellanos. Makes no sense. Been nowhere this whole time. Fuck. The empty spot where my gun usually sat in my waistband screams at me like a phantom limb. I try freeing my hand from Navegante’s, who holds on like a vice and laments, “I am glad you got those shots of tequila in though. Since we both know how bad this will hurt.”

My teeth grind into my lower lip so hard, I taste blood. And yet, it still does fucking nothing to ease the sting of surprise as the knife sinks into my stomach.

✺

Everything after that happens in slow motion. He must’ve carried me out at some point and anyone who saw me doing shots at the bar just assumed I was wasted. I don’t know how much blood I’ve lost. Enough that it feels like I’m moving through molasses when they chuck me in the backseat of that town car. Or is it a limo? The seats are facing each other like in a limo. Or maybe I’m molasses because of the booze. If not the booze exclusively, it definitely isn’t helping, blood thinning as it is. Fucking stupid. So stupid. In my life, had I ever been so stupid?

Although, I have to give it to Strange Homie— what was his name again? Navegante? — it’s been ages since someone got the jump on me like that. Since I was a kid probably. He’d been decent enough about it too, although I could’ve done without the stick in the gut. A few inches higher, he might’ve fractured a rib, but I might have more my full faculties. But no, this guy knew what he was doing. It’d landed exactly where he’d wanted it to.

Fingers wrestle with the tie at my neck, ripping it off, and it’s not until I bring it down to put pressure on the wound in my stomach that I realize those fingers are mine. The other courtesy Navegante had done? Strange Homie left the knife in. Although, whether that’s so I wouldn’t bleed out as fast or if it’s so he could further torture me by twisting it, is unclear. So much of it is unclear. I try going back, retracing every step leading up to the point I’d been stabbed but my brain’s stuck in quicksand. If I live to see tomorrow, I’ll have to take some kind of blood oath to never touch another drop of alcohol again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Dina. Where is she. The Arellanos. They’d disappeared. Where the fuck was Dina. The panic, the cortisol, like a defibrillator at my chest, shocking me more awake, as I pack the fabric of my tie around the knife to soak up the blood. Forgetting myself, I reach behind for my gun and grumble at the empty spot where it normally is. Should be. Stupid. So. fucking. stupid.

I hear voices outside the car. No gun, no way out, no idea where anyone else is, where I am now, no choice but to accept it. So I just lean back against the seat, keeping pressure on my stomach and wait patiently for what’s to come.

When the door finally opens, I expect to be met with Strange Homie, Navegante’s jackal grin but instead it’s a taller man, a lot more normal looking, with dark eyes and a full head of hair. No one I recognize though and he’s someone I’d remember, considering he’s one of the most sharply dressed motherfuckers I’ve seen outside a movie. He slides in to sit across from me and grabs a file that had been laying on the seat next to him.

He reads from it calmly, soothingly business-as-usual. “I do apologize for the harsh introduction, Señor Barrón Corona. Navegante said you were nothing but gentlemanly prior to his stabbing you.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat and on reflex, the muscles in my stomach clench around the blade. Like I’ve stepped onto the worst elevator ride, my throat feels like it’s in my head. Just blistering, white-hot agony. A jagged inhale drags down the back of my throat and I try not to pass out. “S’funny,” I cough out, “was just thinking the same thing.”

“Please know, this isn’t personal. Or rather, not for me. I suspect it’s very personal for your employer.” He looked up from the file, smirking. “Or I suppose, that’s the idea.”

My employer? The fuck was Benjamín going to be upset about? Me with a knife in my gut in the backseat of whatever big-shot, cartel guy’s car?

“Banking on the wrong strategy there,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

The man looks up from the file again, waiting for me to explain further.

“No love lost between my employer and me.”

“Hmm. Is that so?”

He says this with such assurance, it becomes apparent that this whole scheme, whatever it is, whatever game this guy’s playing, this shit is well above my pay grade. No point trying to outmaneuver when my head’s still in quicksand and I don’t even have the fucking rulebook.

“But you answer to the whole family, no?”

I roll my eyes and slump my shoulders, too tired to summon a real response.

“David Barrón Corona. From Logan Heights, San Diego, California. Says here you were born in Tijuana, but your parents are naturalized citizens. Which would give you—” he licks his forefinger and flips a page. “Ah yes, dual Mexican-American citizenship. Oh, your father was in the navy? Why does it seem the best sicarios come from military families. Someone should do a study.”

“Eh, eres un soldado either way.” <Eh, you're a soldier either way.>

The man smirks and continues reading. “Two brothers, one older Mateo Barrón Corona, deceased. And one younger, Alexander Barrón Corona, incarcerated, life no parole. And your mother— hmm, we don’t have much on her.”

I clench my teeth so hard, it feels like I have a charlie horse in my jaw. Willing my stomach muscles to relax, I ease off the middle console with my elbow to lean against the window and breathe out a, “Wow.”

The man takes out a cigarette and pops it between his lips, mumbling, “Qué?” as he lights up.

“Just— I dunno. Seems a lotta paperwork for somebody who’s nobody. Whose asset are you, DoD, CIA?”

The man shakes out his match and cracks a window on his side to toss it out. “Ah, see, but that’s the thing, David— may I call you David?”

I nod listlessly.

“David, do I seem to you like someone who’d waste so much time, go to all this trouble if you were a complete nobody?”

“Can’t say. We just met.” We’re well past politeness. I’m already bleeding all over this guy’s Oxford leather seats.

But instead of insulting him, he cuts up, laughing deep and full. “Funny, discerning—tonight’s little encounter notwithstanding. And from what I hear, an excellent shot, a competent sicario.”

I snort loud enough that he pauses to say, “What is that? False modesty? Don’t bore me before we’ve gotten started.”

“No. I am as good as you’ve heard probably. But that’s not the point.”

Dragging slowly from his cigarette, he brushes a bit of ash that’s fallen on his pant leg, then looks up, fixes his eyes on me, and says, “Enlighten me, then.” He’s the cat. I’m the ball of yarn. It doesn’t even matter.

“Any sicario worth a shit knows it doesn’t matter how good you get.“

“Why’s that?”

A gotcha-type smile spreads across my face for the first time in what feels like ages. “’Cause however good I may be, I’ll always be expendable. Guys like me are always short to the gate.”

And just when I think I’ve got him, for some reason, that warms up those cold brown eyes of his, as though I’ve proven his point more than my own. He bobs his head toward the window where Navegante stood guarding the car. “Well, that may be true of most in your line of work. But I asked my man out there, and he seems to think you’re good people. I’m putting together the picture of you, beginning to understand the appeal, what she sees in you.”

“Why. You hiring?”

“Oh no, no,” he chuckles lightly, “you’re of no use to me that way. No, the fact of the matter is,” then clicks his tongue against the inside of his cheek, “you’re right. Some are more expendable than others. But at the finish line, when death comes to collect, really, we’re all expendable.”

If this guy doesn’t reach some point, some punchline soon, I swear I’m gonna yank this knife out myself, happily bleed out all over the place just to reach some definitive conclusion.

”But here and now? To one with a little power and something I need? You David, are much less expendable than you think.”

The hell is he even talki— oh, fuck.

What she sees in you.

It echoes in my ears until it detonates, like pulling the pin on a grenade in my head, shrapnel ricocheting on the inner walls of my skull, just as I’m trying to piece it together.

My boss. Personal. Dina. You answer to the whole family, no? The guy’s practically been explaining it from the beginning. I’ve just been too dead in the head to make sense of it.

“Ah yes, there it is. And now that you’re caught up with the rest of the class, allow me to formally introduce myself.” The man places his hand on his chest, bowing his head. “I’m Pacho Herrera.”

Yup. This is above my pay grade. Way, way, way the fuck above my pay grade.

#narcos mexico #narcos mexico fanfic #enedina arellano felix x david barron #dinarron #enedina arellano felix #david barron #timeline divergence #also this is separate from my dinarron russian novel #but this place has everything #angst so mild a white man could handle it #smooching #stabbing #with KNIVES #forbidden love/secret relationship #seeeeeeeeeecrets #Dina - a woman who will actually pay to step on you #Barron - a man being accidentally hot at every turn for no good reason #Pacho - a sly and suave and snappily dressed mf with a plan #the most bizarre buddy-cop duo we didn't know we needed #like shit you not it makes no actual sense but somehow works?? #there's also dancing #during which you should bust out Spotify or Youtube or wherever tf #and put on a little ditty called 'Guajira del Mar' #to set the mood #to get the feel #to establish the Vibe #also to that one anon who likes dinarron stuff - here's a new thingy to feast on #until i get my shit together with the asslong novel i've been working on for them sksksjflkdajlsdkj

[hippolotamus]

Numba 1, please and thank you.

Eddie: fine, whatever, if I have to and it’ll make you go away. Buck: like hell you will, pick anyone else. But not me (dear god please pick me)

Hmmmm.... somehow you managed to pick come close (let me be home) aka the Bridgerton AU. Have a little of the Diaz siblings 💙

“Oh, Edmundo.” His sister shoots him a brief lighthearted scowl before she rubs at her protruding abdomen, beaming with a sense of pride and love he is all too familiar with. The type he feels every time he looks at Christopher.  “Shall we?” He guides them from the main hall to the drawing room, wanting to make sure his sister rests. Her baby won’t be arriving for another five months or so, but he knows she’ll never pause and look out for herself unless someone makes her.  Adriana, his youngest sister, is curled up in an overstuffed chair, legs tucked underneath and to the side, showing little concern for the possibility of her shoes tangling in the hem of her dress. He wouldn’t doubt that’s what she’s hoping for. A frilly garment that needs to be sent for repairs is one less she has to wear. ... Eddie sits on the arm of Adri’s chair.  “What’d she do to get you to dress like a lady today?” he murmurs.  Adri wrinkles her nose and scowls. “She hid all of my trousers. Can you believe it? Even the ones I tucked under the floorboards!” “Did she get the ones in the-” “Yes,” she hisses. “All of them.”  Eddie chuckles and lets out a low whistle. “I see. So, today’s very serious.” “I’m not sure if I should instruct you to play along or fight her to make this end faster.”

have a list of poorly summarized WIPs and maybe ask about them

#badly summarized wip #fic: come close (let me be home) bridgerton #tanis tag

[chronicowboy]

many moments monday

(aka late seven sentence sunday lol)

here's another extract from the national treasure au which could use a taglist, so lmk if u want to be added! anyway have some eddie finally and a glimpse of madney:

"I think we've gotta go see my sister."

"Do I finally get to meet Maddie?" He quirks an eyebrow.

"I don't want to pull her into this." Buck curses up at the sky and, then, suddenly, Eddie is sprinting away. "FUCK!"

Buck sprints after him with just one thought bouncing around his mind: divested of his suit jacket somewhere along the way, Eddie's ass looks fucking impeccable when he runs. With his long legs, he catches up in no time and, as soon as he's close enough, he jumps and tackles Eddie to the ground.

"Get. Off. Me." Eddie wriggles underneath him, and Buck, in a pure panic move at the sudden unsavoury thoughts in his head, pushes Eddie's face into the dirt and grabs the Declaration before rolling off him.

"Shoo." Buck squeaks, pulling his knees into his chest to hide his... Situation.

Eddie pushes himself upwards, spitting out a mouthful of mud an grass, as he wipes his face with his sleeve.

"I'm not going. Not without the Declaration." He snarls.

God help him, that doesn't do anything to calm Buck down.

 "Well, you're not going with the Declaration." Buck shoots back as Chimney reaches them.

"Did you mudpie him?" Chim asks, trying to contain a laugh at the dirt-encrusted scowl on Eddie's face. "Damn, Buckley, you move fast. Thought that was more of a third date thing."

"Shut the fuck up, Chim." Buck pulls himself to his feet and buttons his tux jacket.

"I'm not letting the Declaration out of my sight." Eddie challenges, standing up to face him, chest to chest, dangerously close. Like this, Buck realises he has an inch or two on Eddie which means he has to tilt his head up a little to face him.

Don't think about it. Don't you dare think about it. Think about that dead pigeon you saw in Manhattan that was being eaten by rats.

"I'm going with you." Eddie tells them, staring Chim down when he opens his mouth. Buck throws his head back to laugh and tries to step back, but Eddie grabs the strap of the case and pulls him in so that Buck collides with his firm, firm chest.

Dear, God.

"No, you're not." Buck snaps.

"Yes, I am."

"What about Christopher?"

"Its." Eddie blinks, slightly dazed. "Its his week with his mother." Buck tries not to hyperfixate on the information that Shannon is only Christopher's mother to Eddie.

"Well. You're still not coming."

"If you wanted to leave me behind," Eddie leans in close and smirks, still miraculously hot covered in dirt, "you shouldn't have told me where you're going."

"Fuck." Chim breathes.

"Yeah," Buck most heartily concurs, "fuck."

tagging @diazly and @spotsandsocks <3

#sami rambles #this is in honour of getting past the halfway mark of the movie #im loving this fic tbh #and it may be the quickest ive ever writeen #the national treasure au #911 fic #buddie fic

[f1rstb0rn-auth0r]

Countryside Spidey

(Slight Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk x Spiderwoman!OC) (Little bit of Yandere Green Goblin! OC x Spiderwoman! OC)

Warning: A bit mature themes in the beginning

Emma Ritter spent two years in denial and grief. She was seventeen, turning eighteen in a month. When she was fourteen, she was bitten by a radioactive spider. 

Two years ago, her best friend, Henry Owens- betrayed her. She was going into her second year as Spiderwoman, the masked heroine when she so-called “figured out” the identity of perverted Green Goblin. Her conclusions came to Nickolas Owens, Henry’s father and CEO of Owen Industries. She never considered the possibility of Henry actually being the Green Goblin.

She went to confront Nickolas on November 7th at 10:37 PM EST. It was raining heavily that night. When she arrived on scene, she found Nickolas’ head on a little fancy plate, on a nicely set table. Around her lied different parts of Nickolas, and his blood seemed to have repainted the walls a scarlet red.

On the table where Nickolas’ head, fixed with a horrified expression, a candle was lit. Two wine glasses were set down, and then filled with Nickolas’ own blood. 

Emma looked at the man responsible, completely mortified. Henry Owens, her best friend, grinned at her. His black hair was drenched wet, indicating he just took a shower. He wore black dress pants, and a white dress shirt. His green eyes stared at Emma, with a rather lustfully and obsessive glint in them, rather then a murderous psychopath who just murdered his only family.

Henry walked up to Emma, and cupped her face with his firm hands, forcing her to look at him. He smirked when her lips parted. “My, my.” He giggled. “You showed up in your Spidey-Suit? Darling, I find that rather... hot.”

Emma felt beyond furious and terrified. She fought Venom, Vulture, Doc Ock, Electro, Rhino, Kraven the Hunter, Kingpin, and even Doctor Doom! Why would she so terrified of her own best friend who went completely nuts?!

“Why do you look terrified? I thought you wanted him dead.” He chuckles. “I overheard your conversation with Willow, how you were so convinced he was the Green Goblin! Oh, how you planned to confront him and kick his ass. Sorry, darling, I beat you to it.”

The rest was a blur, all Emma could remember was Faith Harrison, aka Black Cat stopping her from punching the lifeless corpse of Henry Owens and forcing Emma to flea the scene both the cops arrived.

Now here she was, almost three years later. Almost eighteen with long, light brown hair wrap-up in a messy bun with her hazel eyes clearly tired. She wore her black-and-red Spidey suit, but with her mask off. She also wore grey sweatpants and a grey cardigan sweater.

The brunette fell onto her Grandparents couch, absolutely exhausted. The week had been her running around stopping petty thieves, college interviews, homework, and managing to find time to eat and sleep and shower.

She was back in her home state of Sweet Minnesota. Visiting her beloved grandparents in their little town, called [REDACTED].

Her peaceful moment, like all her others, was cut short, this time by her grandmother letting out a fearless shout, “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU COW LOOKING MOTHER-” It was clear where this universes’ Spiderwoman got her short temper and vocabulary of insults from.

Emma quickly jumps up and pulled her mask on while running into her grandparents bedroom. Her grandfather was out fishing with her uncle and father. Her mother, aunt and little sister were trap-shooting.

“Wow! Jesus!” A completely white man from head-to-toe expect for the small black spots across his body was covering his head as Granny Donna smacks him with a broom. “You are a very vile old lady-” 

The Spotted Man was cut off by getting round-house kicked in the face by Spiderwoman. “Grandma, are you alright?” She asks her grandmother, concerned written across her face.

“Oh, I’m fine, dear.” Donna Ritter smiles softly. “Now, I’m gonna go make some waffles. Deal with him, won’t ya?” She left the room. Unbothered Queen.

Spiderwoman opens the bedroom window, and toss the Spotted Man outside. She then jumps out and lands on his stomach before doing a front-flip off of him.

“I’m really getting tired of you Spider-people.” The Spotted Man mutters under his breath. 

Spiderwoman raises a brow. “Other?” She chuckles. “Buddy, I’m the one and only Spiderwoman. There is no others. No Spider-Man, no Spider-Girl, no Spider-Boy. Only me. Maybe in some other universe but not here.”

“I was talking about the Spider-people from other universes!” He snaps. “Spider-Man from Earth-1610! He turned me into this! Just look at me!”

“Uhh, do I have too?” Spiderwoman winces.

“Excuse you!? Look at you! You’re wearing sweatpants and a sweater over your suit. And what is that? A messy bun? How lazy are you?!”

“Bitch, I haven’t slept in over four days! I’ll kick your confused-zebra looking ass-”

“What is it with the people in this universe and swearing every second they get-”

 Suddenly an yellowish-orange portal appears above him and four other spider people land on top of him.

“Uh, where are we?” A Spider-Man dressed in a full-body black Spidey suit with a sprayed-painted red logo on it.

“Earth-16730.” The only Spider-Woman of the group tells him, she wore a black and white Spidey suit with a hood.

“Oh, hello this world’s Spiderwoman!” An Indian Spider-Man waves at me.

“Is she wearing sweatpants?” The first Spider-Man asks.

“Yes, she is.” Emma Ritter cross her arms. “Also, who the hell are you guys?”

“Where the hell are we?” Spider-Woman, looking around. “Like where in your Earth are we?”

“Countryside Minnesota, Miss. Lady.” 

“You fight crime in Countryside Minnesota?” The first Spider-Man asks.

“Only during Christmas. For the rest of the year, I’m stationed in the twin cities. It’s a lot easier to swing and shit.”

“Yeah, no shit.” 

“Wasn’t there four of you? Where’s the fourth one?” Emma asks, looking around the yard. The other three don’t say anything.

“I’m right here, Luv.” Said the fourth one from behind Emma, she turns around and is face to face with a punk. A Spider-Punk, eating a waffle. “Your grandmother’s quite nice, Luv.” Man was quite literally flashing between pink and red.

“I know she is...” Emma stares at him, wondering what the fuck is going on.

Spider-Punk suddenly grabs her by the hand and twirls her around. “And what’s your name, Luv?”

“Emma... Emma Ritter.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

#Spider-Man Across the Spiderverse #Hobie Brown #Spider-Punk #Emma Ritter #Spiderwoman #Spider-Woman #Gwen Stacy #Miles Morals #Spider-Man #pavitr prabhakar #Spiderverse #OC #The Spot #Minnesota #Marvel

[kmp78]

When was that dancy clip taken?? - It was taken right when it was posted aka Aug 16, 2021. When VK was finally able to leave the US after Rona. … after 1.5 years.

🤨🤔 Gee. Could have sworn I saw a pic of VK and Yawn nina 🥱 chillin’ (maybe moping and eating ice cream but my memory is foggy) at the Hamptons Fashion Week event which was Aug 6-7, 2021 but who knows… details, details and more details… you know, like “Russia actually finally opened its borders for US travel after Rona” on…. “ well no, actually…they were opened on July 25, 2021 and really before that if you bothered to read the fine print).

“Take a Direct Flight: All travelers are strongly advised to route their flights to Russia either directly from the US or from another currently “open” country – as listed in Decree 635…

Stop making up shit that fits your fantasy. VK understandably hung on all Summer and was still seen in NY in the Fall of 2021 because she wanted to be there and for no other K generated bs reason.

GEE YEAH MAYBE YOU SHOULD TAKE YOUR FOG SOMEWHERE ELSE cos here you're just embarrassing yourself. 🥱🥱🥱

That look like Yan to you?

DOES IT? 👓

Literally all you had to do is LOOK IN THE FUCKING ARCHIVES, bitch. 🤦🏼‍♀️

You even knew the dates and you still didn't bother looking! 😂🙄🙄🙄

Well that's okay, I enjoy ridiculing and proving dumbfucks wrong so all good. 👌

And since we are all about details, details and more details here: Yan hadn't even been in the entire country of United States of Retardica for yeeeeeears. Like well well weeeeeeell before Rona even started.

How do I know?

BECAUSE I FOLLOW HER MOTHERFUCKING IG WHERE SHE DOCUMENTS HER EVERY MOVE. 🥱

And you really grapsing at semantics now? 😂

"Borders were actually opened on July 25" 😂

Yeah and VK & son landed in Cannes (not Russia 🙄) on Aug 13. 😂

"Dear traveling I missed you"

AKA SHE HADN'T DONE THAT SINCE PRE-RONA. ✔️

And her sister's reaction to her FINALLY arriving?

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🤧

Oh but yeah anyway those 2 WHOLE WEEKS she waited totes prove that ruthless hoe was sucking dicks left and right like 6 minutes after breaking up with your precious imaginary boyfriend. 🍆😱

And why did she wait 2 weeks? Uhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm in case you didn't pay attention (which of course you didn't but luckily I DID because I always do 🥱), she was working in the States all through that summer. 🙄

Like basically every 4-5 days from May to August she posted from a set and shoot of some sort. 📸

Oh but yeah OF COOOOOURSE she should have flown to Cannes for 1 day the second those borders opened and then flown straight back for another Yankee photoshoot cos by not doing so she only proves what a conniving lil' shit she is! 🙄

And it's not like international travel was extremely iffy back then with borders re-opening and re-closing with barely 5 minutes warning so yeah she totes should have left the States immediately with a calendar filled with appointments and risk them all by getting stranded and not being able to get back cos did I stutter when I said that INTERNATIONAL TRAVEL WAS EXTREMELY IFFY BACK THEN? 🙄

And when she did actually leave the States, it's not like she moved her whole life to fucking Cannes or anyth-... OH WAIT!!! Actually yeah she did!!! 😱🙄

Yeah. 🙄

She MOVED there.

Not visit for the weekend, but MOVED.

And imagine MOVING TO ANOTHER COUNTRY AND CONTINENT but not doing it on a whim. 😱

Cos that's how we all roll, right?

Pack up our entire lives on a 2 day whim and book a flight 10000 km away.

Y'all don't do that? 🤷🏼‍♀️

Cos I sure do that like every other weekend! 🤷🏼‍♀️

And "she was seen in NYC in the fall of 2021"? 😂

How scandalous! She flew back to the States months (yes months) after moving Euroside to do photoshoots and met her Stateside friends for a few days?! 😱

How is this woman allowed to roam free?! She sure seems like a sociopath and a threat to humanity, amirite?! We should probably call immigration right now and have her blacklisted. 🤨🫣

Soooooooooo... yeah. 🙄

Fucking IDIOT. 🙄🙄🙄

But thanks once again for letting me do what I do best aka PROVE YOU WRONG WITH MAH RECEIPTS. 😂🧾✌️

[l0dric]

The Shooting AKA Dear Sister is still the funniest video to exist. Full stop. It gets me every time. I think I've become numb to it and then it gets me again. Perfect video.

[thedevilishlyangelic]

Tagged!

Tagged by @shadowy-dumbo-octopus

Tagging @platypusafro @gharashambles @deacf-coffee-is-a-sin and anyone else who even thinks about doing this, you’re tagged too!💙 no pressure though!

3 Ships:

Geralt/Regis(witcher): This is the first paring I was introduced to in the witcher fandom years back and it has and never will leave my brain. The monster hunter x monster pairings has my soul in a vice grip and it aint ever letting go. Those two old farts will forever hold a dear spot in my heart.

Dettlaff/witcher oc (witcher): I can’t help but ship my OC Dessi with that sensitive dark hair and brooding vampire because she is the light that will never burn his gentle soul. The games did that man dirty in the dlc at the end. Like how the fuck do you make the manipulated victim the monster and killing him the good ending while saving his lover(human) who practically tortured the vampire by making him believed she was being held ransoms/in danger, so she can make him kill what he believes are innocent people with the lover’s sister being the last(does not quite happen) victim. (I can write a damn paper on how I feel about that dumb deal)

The Commander (OC)/Trahearne (Guild Wars 2) I am so in love with this MMO and when I first met Trahearne and through out the core story as he grows as a leader, I just couldn’t help but imagine how my character would be falling in love with that sweet salad. Still grumpy how they did him in the Heart of Thorns expansion because people wanted to complain. 

First ship

Honestly can’t remember but I know they were self inserts. I know they were with the supposed ‘villains’ of the stories because apparently i’m just like that. Shoot I had a crush on Crowley from supernatural that a friend and I both cowritten our OCs with mine of course with the king of hell. 

Currently consuming:

Soon to be coffee as I got it brewing. (I got distracted with the coffee and then other things happened and didn’t come back to continuing this post till hours later...oops)

Currently watching:

Does watching a game playthrough count? cause it is GOW: Ragnarok but only a lil bit at a time since i’m either working or sleeping. but OMG Kratos growing into being a proper dad and of course I have a soft spot for talkative know-it-alls that support the main character AKA Mimir. 

Last movie:

It was a while back but it was The Old Guard. That shit was amazing, and I need a sequel like PRONTO!

Last song:

Filthy Freaks by Bones UK

Currently reading:

I was reading the witcher series but after the last move, I have all the books packed up and i’m going to move again in a month or so i guess so I just haven’t unpacked them..but I probably should get those books out since my counselor said it would help with my creativity and since reading has always been a positive impact on myself. 

Currently craving:

A really good soup. like eggdrop soup or french onion soup. I’m always in the mood for a soup. Updated, I found some canned Potatoe leek soup and got excited thinking it would taste the same as what I would get in the college dining hall but alas, the cooks would make it from scratch and from a can its only ‘meh’.

#Mel answers a tag #mel rambles #THANKS FOR THE TAG POSI ILY!!!! #no pressure on actually doing this game

[shirohige-pirates]

Just Like Fire

CisFem Reader x Portgas D. Ace

CW: angst, language, erotic, violence, serial killer, stalking, poisoning, over-bearing controlling parents, attempted forced marriage, possible dub-con, Munchausen by proxy (aka Factitious Disorder), wildly cute and fluffy despite the warnings. 18+ only

Summary: You're Sabo's biological sister in this AU. After college you moved in with your dear brother and his two sworn brothers in order to avoid going back home. You and Sabo despise your family equally.

Chapter 7: When it Rains

Sabo returned shortly after Penguin and the others had left, and he was carrying three lidded trays stacked on one another. You and Ace caught him up on what he missed while the three of you ate.

“You didn’t get a tray for Luffy?” You question.

“I’m sure if he hasn’t eaten the vending machines dry yet, he’s almost there.” Sabo says with a grin. “The cafeteria’s also opened for another six hours, so if he comes back and is legitimately hungry he can get more food.”

“Is his appetite part of his curse?” You ask, turning toward Ace.

He shakes his head as his eyes flick toward Sabo. You look over at your brother who still has shock scrawled on his face.

“He stretched in front of her.” Ace offers and Sabo’s shock fades.

“I see.” He says with a small smile. “You handled it well then?”

“Of course.” You say, turning your nose up into the air. “I’m not so rude as to gape.” You tease.

“She did though.” Ace says, telling on you as you turn to him with a gasp. “She gasped too, just like that.”

“Traitor!” You squeak, swinging your hand over to smack his arm.

“Ruffian!” Ace asserts, fending off your mock attack with a wide smile.

“Tyrant!” You both say at the same time before you fall into a laugh, Ace smiling at you.

Sabo watches the two of you quietly, before clearing his throat, and tapping your tray of food. “So we’re stuck waiting for now, it seems.”

“Ah, ahem, yes.” You reply, turning your attention back to your meal.

Sabo leans back and sighs, looking up at the ceiling. You’re concerned you’ve upset him with how you and Ace were acting, but he clears the air before you start to worry.

“Waiting is the worst part.” He sighs. You and Ace agree quietly, both of you visibly relaxing as you focus on your meals.

The minutes tick by. Ace takes everyone’s trays back to the cafeteria and you’re alone with your brother for a while.

“A distraction,” Sabo says, standing to close the door to the room. “I think a distraction is a good way to pass some of this awful time.” He hums to himself as he turns toward you with a knowing grin and sits on the edge of the bed. “You like him.”

Your face heats up so quickly you can’t even begin to argue. “I… I won’t let it affect the living arrangements, I promise.” You assert, face hidden in your hands.

Sabo almost snorts a laugh, patting your leg comfortingly. “Unless you began screaming cruel ideas about the cursed I don’t think there’s anything you could do to disrupt our home. I’m not admonishing you, lil’ spark.”

You clear your throat, looking away. “I still… can’t, can I?”

“Eh?”

“I can’t like him.” You repeat, looking down at your hands. “Not until we’re Emancipated. Ichiji would - our parents would harm him. How could I-?”

“Shh.” Sabo interrupts. “My apologies, I meant to distract you, not distress you. Don’t worry about it too much. Ace is very strong, so is Luffy. I wouldn’t worry about either of them with whatever you decide.”

“And you?” You question, trying to smile.

“I’m the strongest one, of course!” Sabo assures you with a smile, before his expression hardens a little. “Don’t let the shadows from our youth hold you back. Not anymore.”

You take a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. “I will… do my best.”

“…Have you fallen that hard?” He asks with a smile.

You’re sure your ears are red, you can feel your blood rushing into your face so hard. “He’s… very comfortable.”

“Hmm.” Sabo hums affectionately, looking away when you shoot him a glare.

“Not a word.”

“I would never.” He asserts, putting his hands up in surrender.

A knock at the door gets your attention and Sabo calls out. “Enter! Though we’re hardly decent in here.” He adds as the door opens.

Ace is grinning as he comes into the room. “Am I closing all the indecent people in, or am I leaving the door open?”

“Open’s fine.” You say a little hurriedly.

“So says the only decent one among us,” Sabo says smoothly. “Ah, but that makes me think of opposites - where’s Luff?”

“Hey!” Luffy grumbles, coming into view as Ace comes further into the room. The freckled brother is laughing as Luffy pouts, cheeks puffed in indignation.

Sabo laughs too. “How many beetles did you harass today?”

Luffy’s face lights up. “I found seven! I tried to bring them in to show you, but the guard at the entrance wouldn’t let me.”

“You cannot bring bugs into a hospital Luffy!” You gasp.

“That’s what the guard said, but I could! I had a good hold on them and everything.” Luffy pouts more as Sabo and Ace are nearly wheezing with suppressed laughter, trying not to disrupt the whole floor with their laughing.

“Get in here and sit down, you little gremlin.” Ace says, tugging Luffy into the room. “You’ll get us kicked out before we find out about (Y/N).”

Luffy’s cheeks are still puffed out but he goes and sits in the back of the room, looking out the window. The three of you try to soothe Luffy’s hurt pride for a few minutes before the conversation tapers off.

The late afternoon sun sinks it into your bones how long you’ve been here. Even though you hadn’t been doing anything, the stress looms over you, and it’s eating away at everyone’s mood.

It’s almost 3pm before there’s a knock at the open door. Luffy’s soft snoring breaks as you all turn toward Law and Chopper. As they step in, you catch sight of Penguin, Sachi and Bepo standing guard outside before they close the door. Your worried eyes travel from the two doctors to Sabo, Ace and Luffy.

Three brothers stand on one side of your bed, Sabo’s fingers laced in yours, as Law and Chopper come to the other side of your bed.

“I apologize for how long this took, but we wanted to be absolutely certain before we said anything.” Law says as he looks over everyone in the room. Somehow the dark circles under his eyes look worse than they had just earlier this morning.

Chopper steps up onto a stool so he’s level with you and not the edge of the bed. Law gives one more glance toward the door before continuing.

“There’s no easy way to say this, but your mother has been poisoning you for years.”

#just like fire #portgas d ace #x reader #portgas d ace x reader #reader insert