#((i gotta write a fic or something it was hard not going into super details

[onippep]

Wait, do you two live together? Can we get to know a little more about you?

Kkkkiiiinda. It's... Eh, alright, let's give a little rundown from when the Tower collapsed:

I grabbed "Fake Peppino," as we knew it at the time, on my way out of the Tower. It was instinct. I couldn't leave anyone in there in good faith, even if they kicked my ass.

"Fake Peppino" took to this rescue in a way that was really weird to me. First this creepy clone-thing of me was trying to kill me in that tower, now he's crawling around the walls of my Pizzeria, copying my moves and hanging out with everyone.

It was an active few months from then on out. Peppino's Pizza became a bit of a hangout spot for the Tower's refugees. I... loved it, to bits. It got annoying and stressful, and my anxiety would always make things worse, but in the end it was always some loud, goofy fun. Business boomed. I stayed afloat and partially payed off some of my loan.

Eventually, stuff started to calm down. Construction projects started popping up nearby; Toppins and cheeseslimes and Bosses and the likes making homes for themselves, relocating, finding new places to go. Business slowed.

I'd encounter Fake-me at odd times, like after dark or at dawn before opening. He'd always coincidentally be taking out the trash at the same time as me, or it'd somehow already be in the parlor before it opens, cleaning dishes, mopping the floor... like it owned the place. It pissed me off.

Thinking this guy was trying to take over my Pizzeria and commit identity fraud, I met it out back after closing one night, ready to lay down a good beating, verbal or physical.

You said to me, "I don't know what your deal is, but you can't stay here."

Up to that point, I was working on how I would fit as a piece in this new world Peppino created. I figured-- the easiest thing to do-- was what I formed to do in the first place. Mimicry was safe. Mimicry was all I knew.

So I picked up on his habits-- his daily routines, his day at work. My prior makeup has allowed me to keep up, cooking wise, and knew I could seek refuge in the place I was named for. It worked at the Tower all those ages ago, after all.

That night behind the Parlor was difficult. I repeated back at him, ",ereh yats t'nac uoy tub ,si laed ruoy tahw wonk t'nod I"-- I felt the burst of emotion from him that came after that. Not anger-- fear.

We fought. Violently.

Eventually Peppino tired himself out, and he stopped. So I stopped. He was out of breath, so was I. He was snarling in fright. So was I.

We sat and stared at each-other for an hour. I breathed, stared, sat and moved as he did. Peppino noticed. He'd lift a hand, I'd lift one. He'd stand up, I'd stand up. He'd cower back, I'd cower back. And so on.

That's about the part when I realized how much more simple this was. So I experimented a bit. Moved around, see what Fake-me would do, and see how uncanny-but-accurate he could get. It weirded me the hell out, seeing it so close. So...

Docile.

Sure, he'd hang out in the background, copying me from afar, but we'd never really... interacted face to face for such a long period of time. Now that everyone was sorta gone, this was kinda... the moment. To get to know it more.

So I kinda broke down. To my embarrassment, so did Fake-me. Just as ugly, gross, and pathetic of a crier as I am. After that, we sorta made up.

First off, I didn't know Fake-me could speak. Mumbles and backwards, repeating me here and there, but... Actual genuine conversation? It scared the shit out of me. In the silence, it asked, "Where do we go," and I didn't have an answer.

This fucker disarmed me with that sentence. I kinda realized this whole time I was scared of stuff going back to... the ghost-town that I'm used to. And I wouldn't really have anyone around.

I asked its name. It replied, "Onipepp". My name backwards, of course. "Onipepp?" I repeated back, and it nodded. "...Oni. Like a demon. I'll call you Oni from now on." He liked that.

And from there... Uh, sheesh, we've gone on for a while. Anything to add?

You offered me a job. "Since Gustavo and Brick opened their own place," you said. "They're competition now. I'll need the help."

I went through training. He was impressed with my previous skills, often showing a bit of fear or insecurity. That eventually went away.

I'd spend days with Peppino. At night, I'd linger in the rafters, as I always would. I'd chase off all sorts of threats to the Parlor he wouldn't even think about. But I would never follow him home.

I didn't know where he lived, or what was considered his home. I've always lived in the places I form for. I never questioned it.

I keep to myself, but sometimes Peppino would ask me things. "Do you get lonely in here?" "Do you eat? Sleep? Do you need anything?" I'd always respond "I don't know."

A big storm happened, and wrecked the roof of the Parlor. Construction had to happen. It got cold, it got wet, it was noisy. I followed him home that night.

He didn't stop me, like I thought he would. Not a word was said. I was let inside, I looked around, and he says, "Make yourself at home". The phrase confused me.

Regardless-- I'm welcome here now, whenever I want.

Uh-huh. Been a wild few months for you. But you've managed pretty damn well, I gotta say.

(...you have too.)

[ghostboneswrites2]

Hi!! I want to start of by saying that I love your writing!

So while watching twd I noticed that Daryl has more tattoos in the later seasons and can only guess that they’re stick-and-poke and that he did them himself. Do you think you could write a fic where the reader(f) is in a relationship with Daryl and asks him to give her a tattoo (which she has none of btw)? I was thinking like a little arrow or something because she “wants to have something of him even when they’re apart”? And make it super fluffy and stuff?

Marked

18+ MDNI || Warnings: Needles, profanity, mostly just fluffy nice cool Daryl

Note: I am not encouraging you to give anyone or receive an at home tattoo via sewing needle or tattoo gun, but I have received my fair share of both and the descriptions in this story are just based off my vague memory of how it was done for me! It is definitely not a tattoo guide.

edited to add: tysm for the compliment ilysm <3

        "Did you always have that tattoo?" You wondered, tracing over the dark marking on his arm. The two of you were on one of your regular afternoon strolls through the woods when you decided to lay against a log and chat. The sunbeams filtered through the canopy above and littered little golden rays over his arms, highlighting the light hairs and texture of his skin. These moments were your favorite. Peaceful bliss in the natural world.

        Daryl shook his head.

        "Nah. Did it awhile back." He said.

        "How?"

        "Never had a stick-n-poke?" He asked.

        "Never had a tattoo, period. Let alone a prickle-poke." You shrugged.

        "It's stick-n-poke." He snickered silently. You glared.

        "Whatever. Can you give me one?" You asked.

        "A tattoo?" 

        "Yeah. The stick-n-prickle kind." You joked.

        "Alright." He nodded. "Gotta get some supplies together for it."

----

        You watched as he carefully burned the little sewing needle and wrapped it in thread. 

        "Why thread?" You asked.

        "Kinda helps hold the ink but mostly jus' for grip." He explained.

        He set up a tiny container on the side table of your bed with black liquid.

        "Is that ink?" You asked.

        "Mm-hmm." He nodded.

        "You made it?"

        "Uh-huh."

        "How?"

        "Soot. Alcohol. Water." He shrugged. "Ain't hard."

        "Cool." You whispered, fascinated by his expertise. 

        "Wha'd'ya want?"

        "I was thinking about an arrow." You said. "A small one. Real simple." He raised an eyebrow. "For you, dummy."

        "I got that but.. Why?" He tilted his head a little.

        "'Cause. I wanna have something for you... Always. Even when we're apart." You said with a soft smile. He hid his face bashfully, not wanting to expose the little blush that was creeping over his features. Instead, he pretended to adjust the thread around the needle.

        "Where ya want it?" He asked when his flushed cheeks returned to their normal sunkissed glow.

        "Right here." You pointed to your ring finger, right where a ring would go.

        "Ya sure?"

        "Mm-hmm." You nodded surely. He wiped some alcohol over that spot to disinfect it.

        "Alright." He said. He delicately grabbed your finger and held it in place. "Y'ready?"

        "I've had worse than a little pin prick." You giggled. "I'm ready."

        Without another word, he got to work carefully poking the needle through your skin, freehanding a perfect line. You watched in awe, studying his look of concentration, the way he tilted his head to see though his hair, holding your finger up close to his face to make sure every detail was perfect. It only took about twenty minutes. You looked it over when he finished, holding your hand up the way someone does when they're admiring their engagement ring.

        "Wow." You grinned. "How did you make such a perfect line?"

        "Ain't perfect." He shrugged.

        "It is! I love it." You insisted. A half smile curled at the corner of his lips.

        "'M glad, 'cause it don't wash off." He joked. You rolled your eyes.

        "This is no laughing matter, Daryl. You just proposed to me, ya know." You said in mock seriousness.

        "What?" His eyes widened. Even under the tan skin, his face still drained of color. 

        "Yeah," you pressed on. "This is my ring finger. Like, the ring finger. And you permanently marked it with something symbolic to yourself." You gloated.

        He blinked. He couldn't tell if you were joking or not.

        "Anyways, I'm gonna go talk to Carol about planning the wedding. I bet Rosita and Tara would be beautiful bridesmaids." You rambled. "Oh, and instead of cake, everyone gets a glass of moonshine!"

        "I don' think.."

        "I'm kidding, genius." You rolled your eyes. He relaxed a little. "Thanks though. I love it."

        He cleared his throat and stood up, cleaning his workspace so not to clutter your bedroom.

        "Oh, by the way.. This is the ring finger." You smirked. He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head.

        "Don't go showin' the whole damn world and tellin' 'em we're married." He grumbled.        

        "Would that be so bad?" You pouted. He smirked and planted a kiss on your forehead.

        "Nah. But I ain't proposin' with no damn stick-n-poke. Gon' find ya somethin' better than that."

        Your face lit up, practically brightening the entire room.

        "You're gonna propose?!" You bounced with joy.

        "Wha-- I didn't--"

        "Oh, my god! I have to tell Carol!!" You squealed as you darted out of the room. He stood there expressionless, processing what he had just done.

        "Shit." He mumbled. It wasn't that he wouldn't propose one of these days. He'd love to call you his forever. Otherwise, he never would have marked you with something that represented him in the first place. It was just.. That it would draw so much attention to him. He sighed. He guessed he walked right into that one.

---

        "When did you do this?" You asked him, holding up his ring finger that was now decorated with a little cloud shape.

        "Yesterday." He shrugged.

        "Is that a cloud?" You eyed it closer.

        "Mm-hmm." 

        "For what?"

        "Dunno. Ya always stare up at the clouds when we take long drives." He explained. "Now we're both marked."

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[phyrestartr]

any tips for new writers

YUH BOI I have a lot lol

Write what you like. You will naturally put more effort/passion into something you're writing for yourself/smth you're writing for fun. Don't do it for clout, and don't write JUST to post. Also, don't write things just because ppl tell you to/request you to. Itsk to let stories perish if they're not working/you don't like it (you might figure out a way to save said story after some thinking, too)

If you read a fanfic/book and really like it, try to figure out why it spoke to you. Did you like the dialogue? Did you like the descriptions? Did you like the stylization? Then, try to incorporate that into your own writing in your own way

If you read a fanfic/book and you really DON'T like it, try to identify what you didn't like LOL. It really helps with crafting your style/story if you identify and avoid shite you personally think is cringe/uninteresting/overdone/cliche-y in a bad way/etc.

Accept that first draft is gonna be clunky and probably kinda bad. You pretty much just gotta get the story down even if it doesn't flow too good because then you can go back, reread, figure out what does and doesn't work in terms of prose and flow and character interactions

Don't feel like you need to write something super long and detailed. Detail and flowery descriptions are good when used in the correct moments, but don't harp on something meaningless for too long if it's not really important in the theme/moment. Writing short stories is the most fun and the best practice for getting into writing since it just has to be like one scene or a very short arc before ending. Lots of readers like the long fics (I mean, same) but they're really hard to write, so don't feel like you need to write a novel or anything. keep it short and sweet for a while!!

Use a thesaurus. Helps you learn new words and new ways to describe something

Themes are helpful for keeping a story feeling coherent. Ex. I use lots of 'godly' descriptors and comparisons of natural disasters (storms, forest fires, earthquakes, tsunamis) to describe how dangerous/powerful a person or feeling is, and I try to stay in that theme to build a better picture of someone/something

Show, don't tell! This is kinda based on your preference, though, since sometimes you just wanna say "bro was mad." It depends on the situation imo. Generally, describing the way someone is physically feeling instead of emotionally is more impactful and lets the reader think and make choices based on the info you've given them. Not everything needs to be spelled out--readers are quite smart and can put together their own conclusions even if it's not what the writer initially had in mind. (Ex. "John felt fury boil in his blood" vs "John's veins ached with heat and his face flushed an angry colour")

It's ok to make mistakes/not perfect a scene. Sometimes you just wanna move on lol

Have fun! If you're not having fun, what's the point homie u-u

hope that's at least a little helpful! LMK if y'all have any other questions/specific Qs or anything. I'm not a pro writer so maybe this is all useless idk LOL

[photo1030]

How is it that I go from major writer’s block to having so many ideas and details that I’m having a hard time organizing them into something coherent?!

Got some good stuff for chapter 23 of my fic Leather and Lace and super excited, just gotta stop getting distracted by shiny objects and sit and write the damn thing!

Sorry, kids, I’m trying to get it done, but I want it to be good, too. It’s coming, I promise 😉

[naranjapetrificada]

Okay I've gotta come into your askbox to scream about From the Firmament!! I am just so continuously impressed by the obvious care you put into every single sentence. Anyway (and this totally isn't just me fishing for more about the next chapter): what's the latest on the Izzy POV section? He's so frustrating for me to write personally (lack of joy and whimsy gets to me 🙃) so I can't wait to see how you handle him!

You are always, always welcome to scream into my ask box, my dear! And it's funny you should ask about the Izzy POV section, because I actually have a draft WIP Wednesday post from this week that was gonna include a snippet of that. In the way that I needed to get the first chapter posted in order to get certain worldbuilding facts established or I was never going to move on, it kind of feels like I need to get eyes on Izzy as he appears in the world of FtF.

It's not even his character that I feel like I'm struggling with anymore, it's mainly a) creating a believable voice and even moreso b) deciding what information to reveal/examine through him vs other characters. His voice is tricky for a lot of reasons but at the end of the day I can wave my AU magic wand and attribute things to the circumstances being different. The other thing though? God.

It feels so fundamental that his perspective should be heavily skewed and extremely divergent from Ed's in particular, and that's felt so hard to pull off. It matters what elements of their shared backstory get revealed through Izzy and what gets revealed through Ed, because things that seemed important to one of them are almost guaranteed to be incidental to the other.

Like a good example is how Izzy has this awe about him (even if he's in awe of an imagined version of Ed) that means that in any universe, he probably places greater weight on the first time he met Ed than Ed does. If you ask either of them what they remember about something they experienced together, Ed's recollection will zoom in on details that Izzy missed but ignore other things. But because it's a shared history, you could look the eyes of either one to explore it.

Because the options feel so endless, the parts of the Izzy POV that have remained fairly static are the ones where he's not directly thinking about Ed or the [redacted], [redacted], or [significantly longer redaction] in their past that would inform how he sees the scene he's narrating. His intro paragraph, initial reaction to Stede, and discomfort with the sense of freedom that always lingers in Stede's wake were super easy to pull together because it's all right there in canon. But in order to figure out anything else I've had to keep writing and rewriting certain things from his perspective or Ed's, bouncing back and forth until it feels right. Which makes the act of writing chapter 3 literally take longer of course, but also makes it harder to approach because it feels like a much bigger task.

Not to turn this into a general chapter 3 update but basically:

Stede's section (yes, only one!) is pretty much done beyond line edits.

See all of the above paragraphs for the Izzy of it all.

Ed takes me a long time, but most of another Ed section has been done since before I even posted the first chapter. A lot of the initial worldbuilding came out of that part, even! Ed also opens the chapter, and I've mostly got that part squared away too.

So basically all that remains is The Izzy Question and the final section, which I know the shape of and shouldn't have anything like the Izzy issues with. It feels like not a lot at all, but also like so, so much. Maybe you asking will give me the courage to share a couple paragraphs from his section though? I was actually poking at it this morning. Maybe getting something out there will settle some of these open questions for me and I can move on?

Thank you sooooo much, I could talk about this forever. If anyone else wants to, you are always welcome to send an ask about my fic if the mood strikes.

[cerealmonster15]

I’m gonna do something so cruel.

I’m gonna ask you to pick your favourite Twst rarepair of all time

HELP okay ive spent some of my downtime thinking about it but omg.......... having to pick is h a r d......... like if you asked me a few years ago i def wouldve said jamiazu FULL STOP, however, i think it has since graduated from its rarepair status especially after engtwst got going. it's still an absolute fave but that knocks it out of the running for rarepairs...

I'm not with my laptop currently, otherwise i mightve spent time pulling up pixiv and ao3 numbers to compare and contrast lol. but i dont feel like doing that on phones and tablets so we're going off vibes from what i remember.

so there are a few i considered and all the immediate ones that came to mind were cater related [im cheating and yapping about a bunch but i think i have one picked by the end lol. i was doodling it out....

honorable mention to silver/kalim who i LOVEEEEE but i forgot i had considered til just now and i dont feel like drawing more lol. but i find them very underrated. still, as much as i love them, i still think my pick will be one of theyse ^ cay ships lol. so running thru my choices, i was also considering idia/cater, which i havve been HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMing over whether or not it still counts as a rarepair too. i feel like it's sort of in that gray spot of like, i see more of it than i used to but also still not a super updated one, maybe slightly behind jamil/azul lol. ^ azul and idia r makin faces at each other in that doodle bc idias like "teehee you cant win this competition bitch" and azuls like "fuck u that means we r more popular" um anyway.

and then of course one of the firstones that came ot mind and is DEF a rare pair is my beloved cater/jade lol. they get a few instances every few events that make me go bonkers and even tho it's few and far between i love them,,,, still, i had to consider a few more...

cater/vil is also an og ship that's like, surprisingly underrated i feel like??? like, i see it now and then but it def feels like only really a handful of people making stuff for them. fuck like even i dont draw/write them much bc i find vil oddly hard to draw jkLFHSKDLFJ and ive just strangely never written a fic for them? despite the fact that ive def written down fic ideas and concepts for them. iive just never sat and done it i dont think, even tho theyre one of my earliest twst ships. that was the case w/cater and idia for a while too til i got a prompt suggestion so maybe i gotta reblog some of those prompt posts again and get some assists lol.

cater/leona is one thats been fucking haunting me for like 2+ years now lol. like i feel like especially lately ive been thinking about them a LOT so i thought they could use honorable meniton here as well.......... tho they are more based on vibes and headcanons and a few instances in the game.

i could ramble about all of these in more detail but i dont feel like getting into it rn and anyay i think my winner is probably.............. well also cheating kind of bc it's a weird blend of CAYRID!!!!!!!!! but also treycayrid which i am NOT SURE If that counts. both bc it's not technically a pair and i dont know how rare the trio is considerd - but i feel like they kind of are??? like theyre depicted in canon and fanworks together a lot, BUUUUUUUUUUUUUT i feel like in terms of a threeway ship you dont see it as often. like i think it's usually cater/trey [my beloved!!!!!!!!!!!] and i think also trey/riddle but people sleep on cater/riddle both in the ship way AAAAAANDDDDD in the platonic friendship way!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! meanwhile they make ME absolutely bonkers bananas and i think about them so often every day those are my little son boys i love u heartslabyul omg........... heartslabyul in general really touches my heart and makes me feel things, and the bonds they all have with each other, even w/o shipping, just wjlfkhefkljdslhf theres so much there. im kind of tired so i guess i wont go into it/ive probs rambled deeply about them already somewhere on here but like. cater and riddle man. there's a lot of love to be explored there. cater being presumably riddles first friend outside of trey and chenya. cater being essentially a second vice housewarden in terms of being the other guy riddle trusts with helping lead dorm prep things and is always by their side. cater and riddle working together in book 2 to help figure out what's going on with who tried to sabotage riddle and trey, both of them being referred to by trey as getting fussy over unbirthday decorations lol, theyre just jflwjlfhewflkj theyre a unit whether you ship them or not and i CAAAAANT let go of it. i think theres a lot of overlap of friendship and shippy-ship romance whatever both in fiction and reality and oughghghghf i feel it when i talk about my funny little guys. i like how i said i wasnt gonna get into it and then i kept talking lol. i could talk about them forever tho but i'm sleepy and dont want to go into full analysis mode right now!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but sure i will say either treycayrid or just cayrid for my final answer. but to me any combo of trey cater and riddle even as a one pair ship has to include the other as an ultimate bff present in their life FOREVER cater i s2g you will learn to have long term bonds in your life it can happen it will happen. also chenya. hes not here but i think putting him in the mix is also fun.

anyway yay i love to yap forever. sorry for any typos i dont really get spellcheck when im on this tablet and also using my bluetooth keyboard / tumblr app doesnt rotate sideways when im using it so im not reading as closely. but u get what i mean. teehee <3

[infuschia]

idk

hi guys i am so sorry for totally ghosting :/ i know that's the worst feeling with a fic you love and i'm so so sorry. i'm gonna be so straight up, i have had a WILD life from even before i started this fic up until right now - and although things are finally starting to take shape and calm down to say the least, i lost a lot of myself during that time. i grew in many ways as well, but i think there's just been a lot that happened to me over the past year or so that held me back from goals i have or the type of person i wanna become or whatever, and without going into detail, i cannot lie alot of it has been really really hard. i definitely used writing as an escape/coping mechanism of some sort for the negative feelings i was experiencing - and that can be super helpful for real plus i've BEEN in therapy lol, but i also still found myself retreating away from parts of my life that would have been good for me and my growth to pursue, and i can't be doing that anymore. as much as i fell in love with writing all this for you guys, it ended up taking up a lot of space in my mind as more of a distraction from my own setbacks and issues instead of being something wholly good for me, if that makes sense. unfortunately - THE MOST PAINFUL MIC DROP iamsosososorry - that distraction has had to end. some lowkey rock bottom moments forced me to take a better look at my life for what it really is AND for what i want it to be, and at this time i do need to step back from the false life i created in this story and step back into my real one. not that i was like living in my bedroom on my laptop or nothin LMAO i'm just sayin there have been some things i know now i can't continue with in the same way that i did before, in terms of what i spend my time and energy on. i can't say for sure that i'll never be back but i don't wanna be making any promises i can't keep. I LOVE AND APPRECIATE ALL OF THE LOVE SO MUCH OVER THE YEAR I SPENT WORKING ON THIS FOR YOU ALL i NEVER EXPECTED like anyone to read it so just every split second you even spent CONSIDERING this fic was just music to my soul and i again can't begin to describe how wonderful it's been hearing from you all and knowing that at least in some small way i was able to add a bit of joy to your lives. it's not goodbye, it's see you down the road - LMAO IGNORE MY MELODRAMATIC ASS SO SILLY but fr. over the summer i fell in and out of love and back again (MAYBE I SHOULD NOT SAY LOVE LMAO maybe lust and some feels LOLOL BUT MAN IDEK AIFSHJABJHD) with an old potential guy of sorts (have talked on and off for the last three years bruh hometown crush), and after all this time of never actually being upfront about what we thought of each other we were FINALLY honest with each other about how we felt on things, just before having to go back to school in different parts of the country - with a hope to see each other again down the road #romantic? #idek. i hope it works out with him, maybe my romantic ass is just bein delusional asf but i also just have that feeling that we'll find each other again when the time is right. and maybe just maybe i'll be back at this when the time is right - but all i know for sure is that, just like with this man-whos-not-my-man-but-may-just-be-one-day, right now i gotta focus on loving myself above all. THIS IS CRAZY SO MUCH WRITING I KNOW but i know how it feels to have a fic you like just drop off the earth so i guess better something than nothing, better late than never. SO so so much love forever and always. you guys all have my heart no matter who you are, where you are, or whenever you're reading this. LOVE YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH YOURE AMAZING AND KEEP ON BEING YOU CUZ THATS INCREDIBLE ON ITS OWN <3 <3 <3 see you down the road my friends xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

[humanpurposes]

Always got to ask who I reblog them from!!

🤯🧐🎶

Have a lovely day honey!

hello lovely! thanks for asking and hope you're having a great day/evening!

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

I was STRUGGLING with the smut for My Heart Belongs to Daddy part ii. And I find battle or fight scenes hard to write, because tbh I usually skim over those when I'm reading.

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

You have no idea omg, medieval politics is my fave and there's nothing I love more than a good succession crisis so I'll literally write essays about the politics of my fic and compare it to real historical events. I think I've researched Fire and Blood more thoroughly than some of the material for my actual degree 🥲 But I love getting into research for the little details, even if it’s ideas for settings and outfits for characters. I feel like you gotta do the research when you write, it just fleshes out the story so much and makes it so immersive!

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

I love using music for inspiration, but I also get distracted super easily, so if I’m really trying to focus I either have to go for silence or something soft and instrumental. But two songs I love listening to while I write are Daemon and Rhaenyra and Whatever May Come from the hotd soundtrack.

[the-kings-of-games]

Hi! Just wanted to say helloooo and that I only recently started shipping Kizuna (I hadn't met Crow yet and I am still on season 1 *sobs*) BUT THEY ARE SO CUTE RAHHHHH I love seeing your stuff pop up on my dash, makes me smile! So yeah- *awkwardly runs away* Ok ok, and I gotta ask a question. Was Kizuna your first-ever ship involving one of the bois or did someone/something change your mind about them??????

ASDAFHLAGDSAFDSAFDSASADRYWASDA I'm so elated to have you in my inbox and to answer reply, @bibookdemon.

Firstly, hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. :D I'm so glad that you ship Kizuna too, omgssssssssss. I've been here so long, and a new Kizunashipper around is just great. (New friend maybe???) I'm always excited to interact with a familiar reader and a Kizuna fan. QwQ Just knowing you exist makes the past three years in rarepair hell worth it. So thank you so much for reading my fics, whether it's a dozen or just one!!! And I'm glad to see you in my notifs tooooooooooo, omgs. \(^3^)/

Second, to answer your question: Kizuna was not my first 5D's ship because as you pointed out, Crow doesn't show up yet until halfway through S1, so my first choice was Kingcrab because I love childhood friends to lovers trope very much. Also, I love their dragons and how much they contrast each other; the details in the character design makes me melt. I love Jack and Yūsei; however, when Crow finally showed, I just went THAT ONE, lmao. My favorite type of characters include tough redheaded characters with happy-go-lucky attitudes who wear headbands (shout out to Lavi Bookman and Kyan Reki!!! And also Kagami Taiga because I love him too!!!)

The thing was though, even when I first saw him and got into him (immensely), I was actually on the fence about adding him with Kingcrab. I think it was because I only had a little experience with polyshipping prior, but the love was growing quickly. My first few Kizuna fics were actually gen. Whatever their relationship is like they are definitely cute and they love each other!

Then I had this epiphany and created the headcanon that Crow is a genderfluid he/him dfab, and then I wrote a Kizuna smut piece and then I wrote ~100 Kizuna fics and now we're here. I dropped through that pipeline fast and hard. That headcanon is my most favorite YGO headcanon, and it really opened a lot of door for exploring Kizuna and their relationship. My Kizuna fics have some of my best writing currently, lmaolololol, because I just wrote so much for them. (When you write a bunch, something is bound to be actually good, you know?) And the thing about that Crow headcanon? People actually like it. :) That makes me super happy.

Though I only have a handful of regular readers, I very much appreciate them all and recognize most of them. ^^ What more, I had two people reach out to me because of my writing, and we became good friends. 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I'm think I'm doing pretty good with Kizuna.

Third, thanks for asking, and for reading my fics!!!! I hope to keep reaching out to people to spread the Kizuna love! I hope to keep seeing you around!! Feel free to come talk to me if you like. I'm also shy, it's okay.

[itsalimere]

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately bc I’m coming up on the end of my longfic that I started back in February (doing my very best to try to finish it for nano………) I think I’m sort of an unusual case because this longfic (“tapestry”, currently ~81k and 5/7 chapters, likely to be 110ish in the end?) was also my first ever fanfic after existing on the edges of fandom for my whole life, and I think the same things that let me write a fic *at all* are what have kept me going writing for a long time/lot of words.

1) I started writing this because I NEEDED to read it. Guessing that this is not why a lot of people write fic, but I discovered that it’s pretty much the only thing that motivates me! I stalled out on tapestry at chapter 4 in May-ish, but got back to it because I really wanted to be able to experience and know about the full story myself. That pushed me through ch5 in September and is the primary thing motivating me now. No one I know well has read this fic (this is freeing, in a way) and the only one who is die-hard invested is me, but it’s enough to give me point (7) here. I want so bad to be able to read the whole thing and feel that it’s a satisfying emotional narrative for myself. I want a clear, relivable, in-depth daydream of the exact things I want to happen with all these characters. So I gotta finish writing it!

2) The above thoughts from op are all great and super helpful for me to think about too!!

3) This one is kind of related to my first point as as well as op’s (1) and (4) (about loving the idea and not worrying about planning too much). I have reread what exists of tapestry as a reader a few times (because I’m so invested in the idea), but it also helps me see threads I’ve put in by accident, motifs and emotional moments and stuff. That inspires me to follow up on them and can even point the way to where I want the details of the story to go. When I was really stuck on how I wanted ch5/6/7 to go, I reread what I’d written and realized there could be a nice circular structure where the concluding chapters would sort of mirror and wrap up some character points from chapters 3/2/1 respectively, so at the end I have (hopefully) a bit of a full-circle moment. This is something specific to my example, but rereading and analyzing as inspiration helps me in general!

4) Speaking of inspiration - if I’m stuck on a longer fic I’ll sometimes return to some old favorites by other authors with the same ships/characters, or find some new fics to read of them. This helps me feel excited about my own story again by letting me compare/contrast what I’m doing with what others have done. I love these characters and other stories are so great but they’re not exactly what I imagine, so I want to write my thing too! “This emotional note in x fic is so great, I realize the character might feel a similar way in a situation I’ve put them in, and now I have more direction!” Or “I love how this character acts in y fic, but it’s not how things play out for them in my fic, and I want there to make a satisfying written reality out of what happens in my imagination, just like the author of y fic did!”

Unorganized thoughts but I just wanted to write em down before I forgot/procrastinated too long!

Do you have any advice and how to write a long fic?

I'll encourage long fic writers to add on in the notes, but as someone who tends to prefer short and medium-length fic, I'll tell you how I go about it.

Get a premise that you just absolutely love. You're going to be writing this thing for months, if not longer, so you want it to be something you're willing to spend a lot of time thinking about.

Embrace subplots. You'll have your main plotline that you want to see through from beginning to end, but you can also weave in some subplots here or there. The way I do this so that I don't get lost down a rabbit hole is that I always make sure that every chapter has at least 1 thing that moves the main plot forward and then if I want to spend 1-2K with some side characters doing something fun I can do that as well. Subplots can extend for the length of the full narrative, but they can also just last a chapter or three. If you're used to writing short fic, these might give you that familiar feeling of "completion"

A chapter is only as long as it needs to be. Don't get hung up on having a consistent chapter length. Don't get hung up on hitting some arbitrary number every time. Instead, figure out what the next part of your story needs to include and write however many words it takes to get that chunk across. Varying your chapter lengths is a normal thing to do and not something to stress about.

The next thing that I find important personally may or may not be relevant to you, but I find that I can't plot anything in much detail. If I get too into the nitty gritty with my plotting, it just feels like I've already written it. I need to keep it at the level of "And then A and B meet C and hijinks ensue." I can figure out the particular hijinks later. It's the characters meeting up that's the next important thing for me to figure out. Getting too far ahead of myself is a death knell for me in writing long fics, but there are other writers who swear by it. Test out different ways of approaching it and see what works for you.

As someone who tends to write more briefly, another feature that's common to longer fics is more extensive descriptions. People spend time painting visual pictures of the setting or the characters or the actions that are happening. Write the more bare-bones style that focuses more on dialogue (if you're like me) and then go back and read through what you've just written and see if there are opportunities to add in more detail. This can lead to some really interesting characterization choices and also help you out with worldbuilding.

When it comes to worldbuilding, you don't have to get it all on the page. You just need to share what's relevant for the reader in that moment and what is useful to lay out now so that it's already there in a future chapter. You can have an encyclopedic knowledge of how your world works in your head, but it's not actually necessary. No one is going to be quizzing you later - and if they do, you can always figure it out at that point.

Most important for me when I'm trying to get myself to the end of a longer fic, have a friend or a group of friends who are also into what you're writing - or at least willing to hear you get excited about it. Being able to get excited about your work is so important. It's like a bottle of water being handed to you on mile 10 of a marathon.

[eloquent-vowel]

I have had a few bucky x read fic ideas bouncing around in my head and i cant write! So here is one,

Sam find a person who stairs and doesnt talk a whole lot because they uses ✨telepathy ✨. So Sam think they would be a good fit for Bucky, but he doesn’t know they have that power he just thinks they are mute. Then there is a thing where the reader is telling Buck how it works and they if they have something to connect them together like an object *reader motions to dog tags* they can have an unbreakable mind link. Then they fall in love or something. This is dumb, thank you for coming to my TedTalk

Hey! Thank you so much for this request, it wasn't dumb at all. I really enjoyed writing this. I may have gotten a bit carried away, this may sit close to 4000 words but we vibe. I hope this is what you had in mind! Please enjoy! <3

Click here for my masterlist of other fics and check in my bio for requests if anyone wishes to ask!

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Bucky had been enjoying a moments peace, he loved working with Sam but sometimes all he wanted was to put his feet up, put on some vinyl and enjoy a good cup of coffee all while reading a brilliant book. He had been trying to get into Game of Thrones lately, on Sam’s insistence, and he had been enjoying it. With the crackles of Glenn Miller from the turntable he missed the clunky footsteps coming up the stairs.

The sight that greeted Sam needed to be photographed. Bucky was lounging back on his ‘old man armchair’ feet up, hair in a towel, in a bathrobe, coffee in hand and facemask on, this was definitely one for the family album.

At the sound of the phone shutter Bucky practically launched himself out of the chair.

“Oh, you are never gonna live this one down old boy, it’s going to haunt you.” Sam almost cackled evilly as he began to email the photo to himself- he had learnt the hard way that Bucky was very proficient at breaking phones.

“You better not upload that photo anywhere, Wilson, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Pfft, reputation, that’s funny.”

Bucky scoffed as he stood up, placing his book carefully on the side table, “Big scary super soldier, people hardly run-in fear from a guy in a bathrobe.”

“I disagree, a man in a bathrobe is definitely something you should run from. AH NOPE!” Sam jumped backwards, on top of a nearby chair, as Bucky lunged for the phone, towel turban falling off in the process. “You are not breaking this phone as well.”

“Fine. But you gotta promise not to post that anywhere.” Bucky huffed.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

“As long as- “

“Oh no, I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Think of it as payment for the last phone you broke and insurance for this picture.”

There was silence for a moment as the two friends eyed each other up. Sam raised his eyebrows, Bucky’s eyes narrowed. It was an intense staring match between a guy in a bathrobe and a precariously balanced man. A clock ticked.

“Fine.” Bucky conceded. “What do you want?”

“For you to come to a meeting.”

“The families of Veterans ones?”

“Yeah.” Sam slowly started climbing down from the chair. “And before you get your old man pants in a twist, I’m not trying to force you to talk or anything, kinda.”

“Kinda?” Suspicion laced through Bucky’s voice.

“You know sign language, right?”

“Which kind?”

“American? I think?”

“Yeah, I know ASL, might be a bit rusty but I’m sure it still holds up. Why do you ask?”

Sam shifted slightly on his feet, “There’s this person, they come in every week and listen. I tried to talk to them, but they communicate through sign language, and I don’t have anyone there to talk with them.” He cast his eyes to the floor, “I feel bad. They were brave enough to come to the group only to basically be ignored ‘because we didn’t plan well enough.”

Bucky smiled, face mask crinkling around his smile lines, “You could have just asked me to Sam. You didn’t have to blackmail me into this, of course I’ll help. When’s the next meeting?”

“This evening. You gonna be ready or do you need some more ‘me’ time.”

Bucky simply chuckled at Sam’s teasing tone, patted his shoulder making sure to squeeze just a bit too hard before retreating to his room.

“I’ll be there, Wilson, and I will look so much younger than you!”

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It was frustrating to you, going along to these meetings and not being able to communicate. You could always speak into someone’s mind but all that usually accomplished was a very paranoid person. But just listening to other’s stories really helped the grief from losing someone so close to you. You related to most of the people there and even though they didn’t understand you a lot of the time, you were always made to feel welcome- with friendly pats on the back and the odd tissue thrown your way.

You bustled into the familiar building with a new sense of excitement as Sam had promised to bring a translator for you this week. It was finally time to say your thanks to some of the people there and finally let the group know about your brother, so that it wasn’t only you that remembered him.

You all but ran through the hallways until you caught sight of a familiar smiling man. Sam was facing you, talking animatedly to another man, the strangers back was to you. He was tall, broad shouldered and dressed in a vintage looking leather jacket and rather well fitted trousers. Now the debate was: does the tailoring make the ass, or does the ass make the tailoring. You were halfway through the arguments on either side when Sam shouting your name disrupted the intense debating in your mind. You blushed at being caught, then blushed some more when you caught sight of the stranger’s face. Twinkling blue eyes under a deep-set brow should have made him intimidating, but he was smiling, and his face was dazzling. There was an immediate fluttering in your stomach.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” Dear lord even his voice was nice, what made you smile even more was the fact that he signed as he spoke. Well, Sam certainly knew how to pick them well. “Sam introduced me; said you wanted an interpreter.”

You nodded as you signed back, “Nice to meet you, thank you for helping out.”

“No problem, Sam has told me a bit about you.”

“Good things I hope.”

“Okay I recognise my own name, you two better not be conspiring against me.” Sam piped up, to be honest you had forgotten about him for a moment.

Bucky laughed, and it sent a little thrill down you, he really was adorable.

“No worries, Wilson, just letting them know all your dirty little secrets.”

“Right, you two get in there, before you make me sleep with one eye open.”

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You and Bucky caught each other’s eye, his eyes were twinkling with mischief, and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you. You had a feeling that the two of you would get on just fine.

The meeting passed easily. Bucky translated your signs and you finally felt like you could actually take part in these meetings. Everyone listened intently when you spoke of your brother and when you had thanked the whole group for being so open to you a couple of people shed a tear. By the end of the meeting though you were tired and very accepting of Bucky’s offer to walk you home.

It was a lot of side glances and hidden smiles and you walked side by side. Drawn to each other under the moonlit sky, it was nice to just be in the presence of someone who had such a kind aura. You spent the walk trying to work up the confidence to sign something, anything but nothing came to mind and Bucky seemed quite content to just walk in comfortable silence.

You soon reached your home, you turned to Bucky with a smile on your face and signed,

“Thanks for today, Bucky. You were really helpful.”

“No problem.” He signed back,

You hesitated slightly before signing, “Would you be happy to have a coffee with me, tomorrow?”

Bucky went a little red in the face, and chuckled, “I would love to, I know a nice place, real cosy. I’ll text you the details.”

“You know how to text?”

“Hey! I get enough stick from Sam, don’t need you getting on my case too. I’ll have you know that I am very adaptable.”

“Sure, Sure.” You smiled at his flustered tone. “I’ll wait for your text then, have a good evening.”

“You too.”

The two of you stared slightly awkwardly at each other, neither wanting to be the first to turn around. You shuffled your feet away slowing, smiling awkwardly once more at Bucky before turning. You heard his footsteps start to fade away as you walked towards your home. You were but three steps to the door when a large figure in a hoodie slammed into you, you raised your arms instinctively to block them when you noticed your shoulder was lighter. The bastard had stolen your bag.

You immediately took chase, chasing around the corner you just walked down but they were fast, faster then you at least. As you rounded the corner you caught sight of Bucky walking ahead. The thief wouldn’t stand a change against him. Without a second thought you cast your thoughts towards Bucky,

“Bucky! Thief! My Bag! Behind you!”

You saw Bucky flinch slightly then turn bewildered, his eyes widening when he saw you hurting towards him, chasing the hooded figure. He caught on and launched after the thief as well, with barely any effort he knocked the thief to the ground, grabbed your bag and whipped out his phone to call the cops.

Well, that was hot.

You took your bag back, immediately checking that you brother’s lucky coin was in the zippy pocket, to your relief it was still there. You looked up to see Bucky staring at you with a very puzzled look on his face. You sighed before casting your thoughts to his head once more,

“I’ll explain later.”

Bucky let out a strange, decompressed noise of shock, it made you giggle. The two of you waited in silence until the police came and took the thief away. The police car had barely driven away when he turned to you.

“Did you just, talk in my head? Or did my conscious just suddenly get really loud.”

“I did. Hi. Sorry about that.”

He waved his hands dismissively. “Believe it or not, not the weirdest thing I’ve encountered.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

There was an awkward silence.

“So,” You started, resorting back to sign language, it felt less invasive, “Still down for coffee?”

Bucky smiled, “One hundred percent. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Bye Bucky. Thanks for getting my bag back.”

“No problem, see ya.”

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The coffee shop that Bucky invited you to, was tucked away, it was the kind of place that you would stumble over on accident. With a simple door and a big window out the front, that lead soft orange light filter out onto the alley. There was the faint sound of jazz leaking out of the building, you smirked. It was such an old fashioned place, of course this was where Bucky frequented.

The bell tinkled slightly as you entered the café, where you were greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods. You caught sight of Bucky’s broad shoulders sitting in the corner, and you made your way over to him, smiling at the barista as you passed.

As if sensing you, Bucky turned to smile and wave. He was dressed in casual clothes like last time, but this time his hair was loose around his shoulders. You smiled back before settling into the seat opposite him.

His hands moved hesitantly as he signed, “What would you like? I can recommend their hot chocolate, its very warming/”

“Hot chocolate it is.”

You could tell he wanted to ask you a million questions but to his credit he walked slowly to get the drinks, he even took his time carefully carrying the tray of drinks back to your table. He placed a delicious looking hot chocolate in front of you. You watched as he took a sip.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1-

“So,” Here we go, “What is it you can do, you can speak in peoples’ heads, can you,” He lowered his voice and leaned in, “Can you read people’s minds?”

You giggled slightly, his eyes were basically sparkling, he was definitely nerding out about this.

You set the hot chocolate down before casting your thoughts to his head, “I can speak in peoples heads relatively easily, it’s how I talk most of the time to people I know. I guess you could call it Telepathy.”

Bucky’s eyes were as wide as saucers, “So you can’t read thoughts, only… speak them?”

“I like to call it casting, makes me feel like a sorcerer. I can read thoughts, but it takes a lot of energy. I used to be able to talk with my brother from across the house. That usually requires some kind of connection.”

“Oh, so like a blood or family connection? Do you have to know the person very well?”

“That certainly helps but it’s not always necessary. If I have a personal object that belongs to that person, something I can hold and connect to them it isn’t hard to make a two-way connection. Especially if that person is willing to open their mind.”

Bucky seemed to be caught in thought for a second. “So, if I were to give you something of mine, we could both talk in our… heads?”

“Well yes, but Bucky we have only just met. Letting me into your head is a lot. I try not to pry but sometimes I’ve found that thoughts just burst through. Let’s get to know each other a before that happens.”

Bucky smiled at you before speaking and signing, “You’re right. Let’s get to know one another. I find you fascinating.”

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It happened on the fifth date. Bucky was just walking you home after a lovely dinner at a small Italian that he claimed he went to back in the 40s. Just outside your door, under the glow of a lamppost he turned to you and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I know this may be a lot, but I wanted to give you these.” He reached around his neck and pulled off something silver. You gasped slightly as he held out his dog tags, immaculately preserved after all these years.

“Are you sure, Bucky? This is a lot.”

“I know and if you aren’t comfortable with it then just let me know but I want to give them to you.”

“You know what this means Bucky?”

“Yeah, I know, I just figured that you’re already in my head all the time anyways, just can’t seem to get you out of it.”

“You cheeseball.” You smirked at him before taking the dog tags and placing them around your neck. You gripped the cold metal for a moment, concentrating on the man in front of you. Taking everything, you knew about him and stretching out a connection, like a hand reaching out to clasp another.

“Testing, Testing, Testing, one two, one two, can my Telepathic partner hear me?”

You laughed, “Yes I can Bucky, you big dork.”

Bucky whooped out loud before sweeping you up in a big hug. The two of you laughing under the lamp light. His joy was infectious, and you couldn’t fight the smile off your face.

“Oh, we are going to have so much fun messing with Sam.”

“You’re evil.”

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Of course, the two of you made a pact not to tell Sam until he worked it out, which wouldn’t be anytime soon according to Bucky. It led to some very memorable moments and Sam refusing to play any form of card or board game with either of you because you always managed to win, somehow. Not to mention all the times you had spoken in eery unison around him.

“I swear, its like you two can read each other’s minds sometimes.” Sam threw his hands up in frustration at another lost game of charades.

You smirked at Bucky across the room, “Should you tell him, or shall I?”

“I think he’s been through enough, I got it.”

Bucky cleared his throat, “We can.”

Sam whipped around to face Bucky, a look of sheer disbelief on his face, “Seriously Bucky-boy, if you think I believe that after all-

“Hello Sam.” You cast your thoughts to him, in the creepiest old lady voice you could muster.

Sam yelped, before turning accusingly at you, “You better be joking around with me right now, I am not dealing with any kind of ghosts in this house.”

“Sorry! Surprise I’m telepathic!”

“You’re serious.”

You nodded.

Sam put his head in his hands and sighed, “Not the weirdest thing ever. Wait, does this mean you have been cheating this entire time.”

You both looked guiltily at one another.

“You owe me. That poker night, void.”

You both laughed, “We’ll have a fair rematch this time Sam.”

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It had been close to a year since you had made it official with Bucky and you were now much more comfortable around one another. He no longer just dropped you off at the lamppost but cam inside with you. You had spent many lovely mornings together sharing glances over steaming cups of coffee. Fighting each other for who got to spread their legs out on the couch, there wasn’t really a loser though as it usually ended up in sofa cuddles for both of you, while watching a film.

Life was pretty great, you thought, as you smiled down at the sleeping Bucky beside you. Finally reaching over to turn off the lamp and put your book down, you were finally reading the hobbit at Bucky’s insistence. As you clicked off the light beside you and settled down you noticed the faster than usual breathing coming from beside you.

“Bucky?”

You reached out, thinking he was awake but instead as you opened up your connection you caught flashes of night terrors. You were falling indefinitely, snow all around you, and in the distance, there were cries of pain, people pleading for their lives, there was gunfire and explosions. You gasped and took off the dog tags. You only gave yourself a moment to breathe before trying to shake Bucky awake. When it became clear that he wasn’t stirring you steadied yourself and settled your hands on his temples. You didn’t care you tired this would make you, you just wanted Bucky to stop suffering. You focused, offering out that hand of connection again, this time picturing it in the shape of a fist and, although it wasn’t subtle, you tried to shake Bucky’s brain awake. You forced your way into his dreams, punching through the dark fog that clouded his thoughts and almost screamed at him.

“Bucky! Bucky wake up! You’re dreaming my dear!”

Bucky woke up with a start. Tears flowing down his face, he stared at you blue eyes shining. No one spoke as he pulled you into his arms. You just breathed together for a moment, counting the breaths and the spaces in between. When he finally pulled back, you saw his eyes flicker with concern before lifting a hand to gently wipe under your nose, it came back red with blood.

“You, okay?”

You smiled sadly, reaching out to put the dog tags back on.

“I should be asking you that.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

“Occupational hazard.” You tried to subtly get rid of any of the extra blood. “That was pretty intense. Wanna talk?”

Bucky looked down to the sheets and shook his head. You smiled at him, tilting his head to yours.

“That’s fine, want me to go? Or would you like to cuddle for a bit?”

Bucky didn’t talk again, just pulled you gently down to the bed once more. Snuggling himself under your chin, resting his head on your chest. You felt his arms draw tightly against your waist. You pressed your lips into his hair.

“May I help you go to sleep? Keep the bad thoughts at bay for at least one night.”

You felt Bucky nod and let out a little sleepy hum of agreement. You closed your eyes, focused on your connection setting up a golden wall against the dark fog at the corners of his mind and settled into a deep sleep.

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You woke to the smell of fresh coffee and the clinking of cups.

“Morning.” You opened your eyes at Bucky’s voice and took the offered cup greedily. Your mind still felt hazy from the energy you used last night.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Bucky sat and sipped at his cup as well, hair a bit of a mess from bed. He had evidently only just woken up as well.

He took a breath, “I had some pretty interesting dreams, sweetheart.”

You stiffened, “Good ones I hope.”

“Don’t worry, they were good. If a little strange.”

“Strange?”

“I was watching myself most of the time.”

You snorted into the coffee, “Sounds creepy”

There was a slight chuckle, “Nah, I was watching myself build a home, a family- “

“Oh God Bucky.” You snapped your eyes to his, you knew what had happened. “I am so sorry my dreams must have stuck in your head.”

“Those were your dreams?”

“Yeah, its only happened once before but when the connection between two people is very strong, it can happen- I call it bleeding. Perhaps we should- “

“If the next words out of your mouth are take a break, I will spill your coffee.” You clutched your cup closer to your chest, “Truthfully, those were some of the beset dreams I have every had. I really loved them.”

You looked back up at him, hesitantly “You did?”

“And I love you.”

“Huh

There was silence as you stared at him in shock. His face as nothing but adoration as the sunlight filtered over his face.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

Coffee cups were cast aside as you both collided. Giggling and joking, radiating happiness as the two of you shared the sweetest kiss. Your feelings merging together, amplifying one another until they shone brighter than the sun.

[bcbdrums]

What are your pet peeves in fics for Drakgo?

Oh wow, I'm not sure where to begin with that... I can either be vague, or super detailed. But I think the biggest thing is if they're out of character.

For example, if Drakken is portrayed as a bumbling, stupid coward that's gonna be a fic I don't read. He is shown to do numerous daring physical feats in the show, takes on Kim himself, and he invents a great many genius things or modifies things he stole, which would require the know-how.

If Shego is portrayed as entirely ruthless and horribly cruel toward Drakken, that's also gonna be a fic I don't read. She mocks him in the show yes, but it's playful teasing for her entertainment, not vicious. They have much more of a...cantankerous old married couple vibe, or a best buds with a leftover playground grudge vibe.

Alternatively, remembering this is a children's show...if they're portrayed as too evil, or too soft on the other side of it...the author had better be convincing, or else it's just...putting familiar names on OCs, you know? Bottom line is, they've gotta be in character. And I think most other pet peeves would stem out of that issue...

Something else that's harder to pin down exactly is when a writer thinks that their headcanon is like...the only headcanon. Everyone has their own interpretations of characters that can go all sorts of directions and remain in character, and that's one of my favorite parts of fanfic, is seeing the diverse possibilities.

As I said it's really hard to pin down how exactly it comes across in fic, but sometimes it's there... I think it again is linked to being in character. Like if the headcanon strays too far, perhaps, from onscreen characterization? The writer has to be extremely convincing again, if they're gonna posit some very out-there backstory or whatever that doesn't fit with what we see onscreen. But sometimes it comes across in writing as... "No, this IS what happened! Not just one possible way." And when I start to get that sense in a fic it starts to feel...ehhhh. Which leads again to feeling out of character. And that goes beyond Drakgo, that's any and all fandoms.

That was a lot of rambling to say basically one thing, but I think that's the big one, Anon... I'm trying to think of small pet peeves but nothing is leaping out at me. If I think of any, I'll reblog and add to this post! Thank you as always for the ask.

Now... Do YOU have any pet peeves in Drakgo fic?

[neonun-au]

what’s your fave work from each of your moots? ;))

oh, i wanted this ask but also now i am afraid because i have...so much to think about :')) and i have not read nearly as much as i would like to (from moots and non-moots alike) :'))

jackie | @97-liners and @/naptaemed

i gotta do one from each blog

just us and the moon

lonely hearts column

jackie is the queen of rom com, tbh lol the humour is always so natural and so on point. i love everything i have read from her so it's a hard call, but i think these are genuinely two of the best fics i have read ever

zosia | @jungwooisms

listen, i know i talk about it all the time and she probably wishes i would read something else instead of harping on about it but it's hwarang :'))

its just so beautifully detailed and well fleshed out and it pulls you into a super immersive world. you get invested in the storyline and the people and never want it to end

fei | @doiefy

at dawn

:)))

like i really only have one possible choice despite the fact that everything she writes is just overall so, so well written. i am a slut for crime thrillers. and vampires. and crime thrillers. and vampires. and i am in it. and did i mention that its a very well laid out crime thriller?

nik | @lunena

breathe easier

i havent given this a proper review yet (a tragedy and a crime) but its so lovely. so beautiful. so amazing. she writes just beautiful like...soft, romantic spaces. idk how to describe it but its just the overall atmosphere is just..oof. god words are not my friend tonight khfdk

bronwyn | @d-nghy-ck

pearlescent

smut is not my genre, just by and large and you will see that again in the next rec but this is just so beautiful and impactful. the writing flows so well, and the imagery is so strong. hard not to love.

lily | @husbandhoshi

new moot and just in general a new blog/writer that i started follow maybe a week or so ago??? but !

sick day nsfw

i don't read a lot of smut in general, i especially read even less pwp. but this is immaculate. i am very very tired of the same old constant hard dom tropes and the same formula for a smut fic over and over. this is not that. it's soft. it's an established relationship. it's funny and sweet and romantic and ofc soonyoung is so well characterised ah :')) i am in love

javi | @itsapapisongo

be seeing you

okay, so it hasn't been continued yet, but i was so in love with where the story was going and javi always writes such strong, strong characters. so much snark and this gritty sort of attitude and i live for it. it suited the concept and the collab theme so well, too. dialogue always on point, as well

sab | @sichengtual

90's Love

man, everything sab writes is just so beautiful, and so masterfully written, it was really hard to choose but this one just sits in my mind so often. it's so short, and so singular, but just the perfect swell of emotions ah :')) i just love it

manx | @kabira

she doesn't really write anymore, on here at least that i know of but i started reading her stuff forever ago and its so good-

by hook or by cross (nsfw, but the smut is just at the end)

read this before i even really got into seventeen, but i loved it so much. its just overall so well written and i really appreciate the setting and the dynamics between the characters

i need to go on a reading binge now and catch up with everyone / everyone else jkhfdjsahf

[hausofmamadas]

WOOF, again another super overdue reblog but well worth the wait bc this shit is actually golden/magic/fire in a way I totally didn’t expect from this pair specifically??? So, fucj it, let’s get into it:

═

✷ A certain someone had given him enough experiences to develop a quite accurate instinct for this sort of thing.

SKSKSKS already dying at the way that Pacho just haunts Amado’s entire psyche

✷ Their bodies intertwined in complete darkness, surprisingly easy, both knowing exactly what to do, and Amado couldn’t help but wonder where Mayo got his experiences from.

I love love love this so much bc idk what it is about Mayo, possibly just the fact that he literally gives not a single fuck, but I don’t have to suspend a n y disbelief at the prospect that he’s touched tips with a gentleman, in his day, a time or two mayhaps this is why Benjamin was making eyes at him all flirty at Dina’s wedding hmmm??? Someday I will write that fic.... but I digress

✷ “How did you sleep?” That could mean two very different things, but either way his answer was the same. “Pretty good.”

NOSKSK I SLAPPED MY KEYBOARD SO HARD JUST NOW, i knocked my laptop off my lap bc Amado’s literally like, “sorry, did you mean, how did I 😴😴sleep? Or how did I 🥴🥴 sleeeeep?”

✷ But then Mayo just shrugged. “Gracias compa! If you ever need a favor, or a friend…you know where to find me.” He heard the meticulous way “friend” was pronounced, and he didn’t miss the suggestive gaze, right on the fine line between being flirtatious and blunt.

Idk why but something about Mayo being like calculated but flirty, is like a) such a hot flex and I can’t even articulate why, and b) such a mirror for Pacho bc I feel like even though they’re VERY different people, that meticulousness is something Mayo would share with Pacho y’know, like they’re both crafty mfs in business and love

✷ Those times gave him a brief illusion that the Colombian was his.

UGH OKYASISJSKSKSJSJJSSN ALREAYD KNOW IM GONNA BE SCREAMING THIS FOR THE REST OF THIS REBLOG BUT THE LONGING AND THE LOSS HERE, ALL THE ALLUSIONS TO PACHO ARE REALLY JUST— LIKE HE CANT ESCAPE IT, HE CANT HELP MAKING COMPARISONS I TRULY JUST AKSOSIW/&/8:2!

✷ In a way, that was the worst part, because he couldn’t even find a reason to be mad. How could he be mad at Pacho for not staying for a drink, when Pacho helped him to get half of the US market?

NO FORREAAAALLL THO I remmeber feeling the exact same way watching S3 and being so bummed for Amado at Pacho not wanting to go out and celebrate the big win and being so disappointed that like his homie was kinda checked out of the business by that point. It was such a bummer to watch and I’m not even in love with the man sksks maybe that’s why Amado latched onto May— er uhhhh, I mean Marta. Sorry getting my fic and my canon mixed up, which is like pretty par for the course with your writing

✷ This dark, enclosed space is perfect for sex, but terrible for smoking.

When I tell you I snorted so loud at this, like so loud my neighbors probably heard it bc how many times have we talked in the Discord about the glossy on-screen vs smelly reality of how much everyone fucking chain-smokes on this show sksk

✷ That makes perfect sense, but almost too much sense for people like them. It feels too effortless, too authentic. “Also, what other options do I have? El Señor de Los Cielos sounds cool, but lord of the sea just sounds like some dirty pirate with golden teeth.”

PFFFFFFFFTTTTJDJDJDJD NO BC IM NOW JUST PICTURING ALBERTO GUERRA AS A REGULAR FUCKIN JACK SPARROW and like I gotta be honest, the picture I have in my head is .... like I really don’t hate it? Like I weirdly feel like he could rock it being a sexy asf pirate?

✷ Mayo apparently doesn’t mind as he lights one for himself, the little spark shines on his face...

WOOOOOF god, I love this detail so much, SO gotdamn cinematic. I can see it as though I filmed it myself. Just *muah* fucking excellent prose

✷ Amado bursts out laughing at that ridiculous mental image, and the best part is that it doesn’t even look bad. Mayo as a dirty pirate? Hilarious, but not bad.

SKSKSKSKSKSKSKSKSK NO BUT I SWEAR I DIDNT READ THIS AHEAD OF TIME, I almost always comment as I read, so the fact that literallyskkdkdkdkee Amado and I had the same exact thought of like “wow, Mayo as a pirate, what a hilarious thou— well..... y’know actually.... the more I think about it, like oh actually I’d still totally hop on that dick this is kind of working for me”

✷ But this is different; it’s lighthearted and simple, even contagious, like smiling doesn’t need a reason. It makes him want to smile too.

*bangs gavel repeatedly despite the fact that the courtroom is empty except for 2 sleeping cats* OH SURE???????? LIKE SMILING DOESNT NEED A REASON ???????? SSKOSSKWJWHAODOFJWBWOQOWJQJWJ GOTDAMN imjustsofuckingsorry but i am— that is such a fucking BANGER of a line. And here, yes. You guessed it folks, we come to a scrrrrreeeeeeeching halt at our first stop, one I like to call, “So Fucking Good, I’m Mad I Didn’t Write It/My Friends Are All So Talented”

✷ There isn’t a fixed schedule, of course, that would be fucking weird, but they can always find out when is a good time for the other person, meaning business is going smoothly and no one’s trying to kill them at the moment.

I love how pencilling in a date? fuck sesh? is contingent on like whether or not other cartels are actively trying to blow them to pieces or burn their boats down, or turn them into swish cheese with a machine gun as they’re trying to make their escape boarding a plane on a private runway. And like I can tooooootally relate me, who can’t be bothered to get together with a friend for coffee if I didn’t get enough sleep the night before so yeah, pretty much exactly the same Fuckships? Relationships really are hard work.

✷ One, they literally have never fucked on dry land. Two, he’s always the one running around. Mayo has never been to Juárez, at least not for this matter.

PFFFFFFTTTTTTJDJDJD not me talking about relationships being hard work and Amado seconds later just, “y’know Mayo, why am I always the one who comes to you. Like are you even committed to this fuckship relationship? Bc I really don’t see you putting in the work.”

✷ Mayo snorts, “on these boats?! What made you think that?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re here every time.”

NOOOOO I AMSKSKSKS S DYING bc ngl, I have never given a single fucking thought to where Mayo might actually live bc I think I also thought he lowkey just lived in a houseboat or something djdjdjdje

✷ ... because boats are the perfect place to do what they do. They can just sail out, park anywhere and all of a sudden, it’s like the whole world disappears. Whatever they do stays in the middle of nowhere ...

OH WHY IS THIS SO UNEXPECTEDLY ROMANTIC THO???????

✷ A strong sense of deja vu suddenly hits him. The first time Pacho came to his new house, in this exact same living room, whispering in his ear, “now pick a bedroom.”

okay, first off.... now pick a bedroom FUCKINF HOTTTTTTT And secondly, once agaaaaiiinnnn, the way you’ve woven little echoes of Pacho all throughout this as like Amado’s entire reference point for fuckships relationships with other men, bc Pacho was his first. Like it makes so much sense but also really does up the emotional anti and adds tension in way that I think is really clever, just bc Amado and Mayo are both like so terminally chill it’d be hard to manufacture otherwise? Idk if that makes any sense sksksksksks but i guess what im trying to say is just imlovingit

✷ Interestingly, he has been thinking about Pacho less frequently, at least less intensely. What just happened used to be a regular occurrence, but just now it took him by surprise.

JESUSSSS NO BC EVERYONE SJSJSJS SHUT UP THIS IS THE MOST REEAALL STATE OF MIND, POST-BREAKUP. It’s that moment where you remember you’d been feeling a lot of emotional pain, but the thing that reminds you of it is more the absence of the pain? Which is like a relief and also the fucking worst sjsjs bc it’s fully, “don’t think of the purple elephant,” except it’s like, “oh damn, I haven’t thought about So-And-So for 2 days, what progress! that’s so aweso— AW FUCKINN GREAT. I was thinking about how I haven’t been thinking about So-And-So, and now I’m just thinking about them again”

✷ Mayo is leaning sideways on the marble table, head slightly tilted to the side, patiently waiting. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the unexpected silence. If anything, he looks curious.

Okayokayokay so I LOVE the idea that Mayo is one of those ppl that’s like so comfortable with silence, that he rarely says anything, but like it’s not awkward really unless you make it awkward? And bc i have be insufferable to draw comparisons to my blorbo and make everything about me it’s not the kind of like shy, introverted, silent-for-survival’s sake quietness of Barrón, it’s like waaywaywayyyyy more laid back which is so on brand for him

✷ He doesn’t care. If he looks up, he can see eye to eye with Jesus. For a brief moment he doesn’t care about that either. Why should he? They’re both going to hell anyway.

OH YOU BROUGHT THE CATHOLIC GUILT INTO THIS MF AND I AM ACTHALLY ???? FUCKIGNSJDJDJDJDJD HYPERVENTILATING ??? AT HOW STEAMY THIS IS????? AND THEN YOU OPTED FOR THE KILLSHOT RIGHT BTWN MY EYES WITH “Why should he? They’re both going to hell anyway” ???? I MEAN— HOW VERY DARE YOU???

✷ For some reason Mayo always woke up before him in their previous encounters, so this is actually the first time Amado sees him asleep.

It’s really so true how different ppl look when they’re asleep I for the record look like an actual slob goblin so this doesn’t at all apply to me like more childlike and innocent than when they’re awake and seeing that facet of Mayo would be absolutely faaaaaaaascinating, like I too would be creepin, watching this mf sleep sksksks

✷ Sometimes he forgets that he doesn’t have to hide her existence anymore. No one can hurt her now.

Oh friend..... uhhhhhh WHY??? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME????? HOW HAVE I WRONGED YOU??? WHY WOULD YOU DROP THIS 10 TON ANVIL ON MY HEAD AND THEN RUN AWAY LAUGHING ??? THIS IS SO ... YOUVE JUST FILLETED MY HEART WITH A GINSU KNIFE AND IM ACTUALLY TRYING TO KEEP THE SHREDDED PIECES TOGETHER WITH SCOTCH TAPE AND IM FEELING FINE ABOUT IT

✷ Amado understands that. Really, he does. But what about him? Hasn’t he always treated Pacho with utmost respect, trust and adoration? Hasn’t he been the best business partner, a good friend and more? What about them?

JYEEEEEEEZUS FUCKING CHRIST DUDE THIS IS JUST THE MOST GUTTING THING “what about them” I’m fine! It’s FINEEEEEEEEEE

✷ But respect does nothing to ease the pain, so he does the only thing he knows whenever he’s in a bad place these days. He dials the familiar number.

WOOOOF okay there’s this song called Brutal Hearts by Bedouin Soundclash, and it’s all about like two lovers who are clearly using each other but one is a little more attached than the other and it goes:

Are you the brutal heart? Are you the brutal heart that I’ve been looking for? ‘Cause if you’re looking for love, you can look for that door.

And this other part that goes:

I don’t mind at all. I don’t mind that you only call me when you want. And I’m just glad you want me at all.

And this is just!!!!! It’s giving me those viiiibes dude

✷ He just desperately needs to let out his frustration in someone, someone who doesn’t mind.

NOOOOOOSTOOOOPPTPPPPP WHY IS THIS SUCH JUST THE FUCKING HOTTTTTEEEEST THING THO

✷ Amado knows he’s not talking about the sex. That was never bad. That’s never the bad part with anyone.

Idk what it is about this particular fic, like maybe it’s the fact that you haven’t written this pairing before, but you’re really tapping into an internal monologue for Amado with these little observations, “That’s never the bad part with anyone,” that I am LIVING FOR, like that shit is my absolute kryptonite, it really puts me so in his head and in the moment

✷ But Mayo has always been on his own. Maybe he’s more of a lone wolf than any of them. Maybe that’s why Amado keeps coming back.

UGGGGHHHSJSJSJSJDJDOAKYAYYYY IM PRETTY SURE THIS JUST DETONATED A BOMB INSIDE MY HEAD bc I just realized it’s such a another subtle allusion to Pacho like it would make so much sense that Amado would find it comforting that Mayo’s such an independent spirit bc it means he can never lose him to found-family, the way he did with Pacho, but it also means he’s less likely to get as invested in Mayo bc he’ll always sort of be at arms length and GODDDDD ITSNJUST SNSODKDKSNE IM FLIPPING MY DAMN DESK OVER BC ITS SO GOOD, ITS SUCH PROSE, ITS SO SHOW-DONT-TELL

✷ … the kind of plan that only Mayo can pull off, because the asshole knows everyone and somehow always gets what he wants from these connections.

Idk why but the undertone of admiration and butthurt-ness in this is sending me skskssksks as though Amado hasn’t been super skilled at working his own connections like mans is the biggest trafficker in the world at that point, and he’s still like “ugh, that Mayo. He’s so much cooler than me. Why’s he so cool. Ugh, I hate him. But I love him but I hate him.”

✷ The nonchalance and casual cruelty send an exciting chill down his spine, rushing blood to somewhere that it absolutely shouldn’t go right now.

PFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTKDDJJDJDJDJ THIS SWITCH THO from sentimentality, lfondly remembering the good ole days when everyone used to play nicely in the sandbox, to just ferally turned on about how much Mayo doesn’t give a single fuck about anyoennaksksks I cannot, at all, in any way, relate -> this is what a pack of falsehoods looks like in case you were curious

✷ “When you…wait, they tried to burn the ship while you were on the ship?”

OKYA IM SCREAMINFKDKD bc this is always something I’d wondered on the show, liek at first I assumed bc of the way it was shot, that they just torched his favorite boat, but it makes WAAAAAYYYY more sense, given how pissed and generally savage and ruthless Dina was, that she’d actually probably try to literally roast this man alive god, what a woman on his favorite boat

✷ He’s had friends killed. He has killed friends. Mayo is right, because a burn on the arm is nothing with their standard. He shouldn’t care this much. He doesn’t know when he started to.

Sorryyyytjfjdjdjd I know casually murdering your friends for business purposes is like Not Funny but that first sentence is so like “¯\_(ツ)_/¯ you win some, you lose some!” is really making me cackle. BUT THEN ALSO THE REALIZATION THAT HE ACTUALLY CARES WHAT HAPPENS TO MAYO IS JUDT— I AM SCRWAMING, CRYING, PUNCHING WALLS

✷ “But try to do it quietly. We don’t want to end up like Benjamín.”

“Please Amado, we both know how to keep things quiet pretty well.”

SKSKSKSKSKKKSKSJSJSNSBS I HAVE NOTHING COHERENT TO SAY EXCEPT THIS IS MY FUCKINT FACE RN

✷ Turns out things can only be so quiet when you’re torturing and killing people daily. Mayo even burned a bunch of people alive. Of course he did.

THINGS CAN ONLY BE SO QUIET WHEN YOURE TORTURING AND KILLING PEOPLE DAILY. Everything about this whole ass fuckinskskskskn paragraph is straight tf up, pure, unadulterated, neon, white lightning comedic gold. I love the way it’s phrased almsot like a voiceover in a movie, like in my head, I’m seeing that scene where Mayo’s leaning back in that lawn chair, just calming sipping his beer, smoking his cigarette while he watches these men barbecue to death a few feet in front of him, and hearing Amado’s voice, narrating over it like, “Resulta que cosas solo pueden ser tan tranquilas cuando estas torturando y matando a gente a diario ...”

✷ He will miss this, he knows, every bit of it.

AGAIN, FOR THE THOUSANDTH TIME, ALL OF THIS BEING IN THE SHADOW OF PACHO LEAVING THE BUSINESS AND SEEING HIM FORNTHEBLAST TOME LIKE IVE ACTUALLY FULLY MELTED INTO A PUDDLE ON THE FLOOR AND PEOPLE ARE STEPPING ON ME, LOOKING AT THEIR SHOE WITH DISGUST AND THEN SCRAPING ME OFF AS THEY WALK AWAY

✷ The old times are slipping away, faster everyday and he can’t stop it. He wants Pacho, needs Pacho to be here, to remind him that it’s possible to have something actually good come out of this business, besides money he can’t spend in ten life times ... not even Pacho can give him what he craves for … The way Pacho is willing to risk everything for his Cali family, the way Acosta was willing to die for Mimi, that is what he wants. And he hasn’t felt that since he lost his daughter.

I don’t even have anything articulate to say about this except that like fuck, Amado really does end up so alone at the end of it all. Like yes, in the show, he ends up with Marta but he’s lost so many others along the way, and you can just tell the money isn’t even worth it and has never really been the draw for him in the first place. It reminds me of that conversation he has with Acosta when he’s like “I like people more than money” and Amado agrees. Like I think that is the god’s honest truth but he forgets about it until it’s too late

✷ “You will find your way out too, and you will find someone to do it with. You know that, right?”

UGHHHSHSKSKSKEJWJWBWBWHEJN OKAY JUST TAKE A SEARING HOT KNIFE AND JAM IT STRAIGHT THROUGH MY STERNUM INTO MY HEART WHY DONT YOU, BC I WOKE UP THIS MORNING AND SAID, “YKNOW WHAT’S MISSING FROM MY LIFE???! MENTAL AND EMOTIONAL EVISCERATION. YES THAT’S WHAT IT IS!!! ILL HAVE SOME OF THAT WITH A GLASS OF ORANGE JUICE AND A SIDE OF SCRAMBLED EGGS THANKS”

✷ He doesn’t know how Pacho read his mind, and also doesn’t know the answer to that question, but he smiles and says yes, because both of them deserve to hear it.

BECAUSE BOTH OF THEM DESERVE TO HEAR IT INCAAAAAAAAAANT EVENSODJSJD FUCKING HANDLE THESE HITS, JUST BACK TO BACK, ONE RIGHT AFTER THE OTHER, BY THE END OF THIS FIC IM GONNA BE IN A FUCKING VEGETATIVE STATE

✷ ... and just like that, the air is again filled with a relaxed atmosphere. “They’re your supply, and right now my supply is you, so I need to know if that’s true.”

I love Mayo’s cluelessness at Amado getting all butthurt about the term “relationship.” Like I feel like someone could put a gun to Mayo’s head and he would just casually smirk and sip from his beer, cool as can be

✷ Mayo silently holds his gaze, completely chill like he has nothing to hide, and if Amado knows anything about the man, is that he can maintain that pretense for as long as he wants.

Re: the above comment sksks I get the feeling that Mayo is actually the worst person to get into an argument with bc he’s so That Guy. The One that you’ll be screaming at and instead of fighting back like you want him to, he’ll just fuckin laff in your face and refuse to play ball a trait that I don’t find to be sexy, or attractive, or infuriatingly endearing at all. Nopenopenope, no siree bub

✷ “Maybe? I thought it would be fancier, you know, like your house.”

Amado snorts, “I’m sure the DEA would love that too.”

Not me and Mayo just being the same person here, like just based on Amado’s house and the way he dresses, I would also expect the planes to be a little more impressive than those piece of shit tiny Cessnas that literally look like they’re being held together by fuckinfkdk barbed wire and staples

✷ Mayo nods, not in a casual, dismissive way, but like he truly understands, and maybe he does. Maybe Mayo also bought his first boat on a payment plan, and kept it running as long as he could.

Dang, why do I get the feeling that the boat the Arellanos set on fire, was Mayo’s first boatsksksk just to add insult to injury bc Dina was going full scorched earth policy once again, what a woman

✷ Mayo climbs into the co-pilot seat, not hiding his curiosity as he observes the hundreds of buttons on the control panel, and even touches a few without asking. Amado’s pretty sure Mayo did that just to push his buttons. “Yeah, this is too fucking complicated.”

SPFFDFFFTTT NOT THIS MF JUST PURPOSELY PRESSING THE BUTTONS BC HE KNOWS ITLL BUG THE SHIT OUT OF AMADOSKSKSKS I LOVE THE WAY YOUVE WRITTEN HIM SO MUCH HERE. And then, once again, “this is too fucking complicated,” Mayo taking the words right outta my mouth although based on a number of historical documentaries I’ve seen, boats, especially sailboats can be equally confounding and hard to learn how to pilot sksks there’s just fewer buttons

✷ He sees rage, raw and uncontrolled, natural. If Amado weren’t still controlling the plane, he would definitely be punched in the face now.

Ooooooo so interesting that Amado rejects Mayo bc it’s like already too hard to let go, he’s enjoying his company too much. And it would make complete and total sense given that he’d just lost Pacho and knows that he’s about to bounce from the business for good and basically never see him again.

✷ It’s just a walk, probably a regular occurance for Mayo, walking away from someone, forgetting everything they offered and didn’t offer, and just like that, simply onto the next journey.

Always better to be my own boss.

He’s a man of his words, and Amado respects that.

Ngl, I like furiously scrolled down to see how much more of the fic there was bc even though this would’ve been a fuckint banger of an ending and super on-brand, based on your ability to shatter my heart and psyche with tragedy I was about to be in full fucking fisticuffs, just fighting strangers in the street, bc that’s how mad I would’ve been if that’s the way this ended sksksk

✷ Ironically, that reminds him of their first few encounters, always in the darkness that hides them from everyone else, as well as themselves.

Okay, once again???????? Heart wrenching???? and beautiful??! And romantic ???! and tragic bc there’s no fucking way this shit is going to end well?????

✷ But why should Mayo understand? It’s not like he knows much about Mayo either. Amado looks at the artworks and books on the shelf behind the desk. Are they just decorations or do they have more meanings? He doesn’t know, does he?

I do like this acknowledgment of the fact that even though he and Mayo clearly have a connection and in a way, they know each other, they still don’t like know know each other. Like it’s always been about business or sex, they haven’t ever had the, “so what’s your favorite color” conversations they’d normally have if they were together or even just friends. And it really emphasizes really how lonely Amado is, almost like he’s regretting keepin Mayo at arm’s length bc there’s this gulf of communication between them, but that’s sort of by design built into their whole arrangement

✷ Right below where the girl is standing, on the side of the boat, it writes Anna.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHKAAAAAAY WHAT THE ACTUAL EVER LOVING FUCKING JESUS CHRIST FUCKING FUCK OF FUCKS, IM NOT EVEN— I CANT EVEN COMPUTE??????? RIGHT NOW???? THIS IS SO THOUGHTFUL AND UNEXPECTED YET DOESNT FEEL OUT OF CHARACTER AS A THING MAYO WOULD GET FOR HIM?????!??? ITS— LIKE— LIKE IM IN A BALL, CATATONIC, DERANGED, LAUGHING LIKE THE JOKER, LYING ON MY BATHROOM FLOOR BC YOUVE FULLY UNRAVELED ME LIKE A SPOOL OF YARN

✷ “At first I wanted to make a plane that takes her to heaven, but then I figured it might be too modern for God … I mean, the ark was a boat, right?”

Ohhdaaaaaaaaamn gorrrrlllllll I see you out here with these biblical references, i see you and I salute you but for the realism, not bc I’m like esp “yay! Jesus”

✷ *You will find someone.* He already has, when he wasn’t even looking.

AND RHEN SSKSKSOWOWOZIANA THIS CALLBACK TO PACHO, IM FULLY FUCKING DERANGED RN

✷ “I’m not laying low for a while. I’m leaving, forever, in two days.”

“Oh! Ok…that’s…”

Skskskksskskkdkdksks sorry, I just spit out my chocolate milk reading this bc Mayo is never caught off guard but I can like see and hear his confusion, here, so clearly in my mind’s eye, it’s sending me

✷ “You think I don’t know that?”

“You know, but no one really wants that, not even you.” Amado leans forward and puts both of his hands on the desk. “For the longest time I also thought I was fine with it, but no one wants to be alone.”

Oh this just got me thinking like I wonder how much older Amado is. Only bc this very much sounds like something someone a few years older would say, but then again, Amado’s been in the business for longer than Mayo, at least according to the show, so it could also just be like sksksks career advice from someone who’s further along if said career is A Life Of Doing Crimes

✷ “The government was onto you, you lost your supply and your Colombian boyfriend dumped you. So you came up with an escape plan, which was a pretty good idea. But when the 48 hour count down began, you had some kind of…fucking existential crisis, so you came here to grab the first person you could think of, to bring them like a bag of cash.”

OOOOOFFFFFF okay, so I take it back when I said that Mayo’s that person who only laughs at you when you fight with him. Like 95% of the time, I think that’s the case, except for that rare 5% of the time when he’s like this ^^ just slinging hard truths at you and it hits even harder by the very fact that he refuses to sling shit most of the time

✷ “Tell me again, when are you leaving?”

“In two days?”

“How long did it take for you to prepare?”

“…Several months.”

“And how long have we known each other?”

He looks up to meet Mayo’s eyes again, and he sees it, the thick layer of pain shadowing all the anger.

Okay, I love you, Amado and I have no doubt you had the best of intentions, but our homie here is making some good pointskskskk like this isn’t the best or most well-thought-out way to finally tell someone “I’m into you for more than that disco stick”

✷ “I hope you can get away, and I’m not telling this to anyone.” Mayo takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a long drag. “But get the fuck out of my house.”

I’m like.... gaaaaaaah l so conflicted bc I’m such a sucker for a happy ending but I’m also kind of like “fair, Mayo. Fair.”

✷ He already knows everything that needs to be done, so he just does them, but it feels more like accomplishing a preassigned task rather than going to his freedom. He doesn’t know what happens after, and he barely made sense of what happened before, so he is simply going to execute the plan. It’s his only option now.

OHHHHHHH NOOOI AMADO, TODO VA A ESTAR BIEN, POBRECITO ~~EXCEPTO QUE EN REALIDAD NO LO SÉ PORQUE NO SÉ CÓMO ESTO TERMINA PERO NECESITO QUE ESTA MIERDA ESTE BIEN

✷ “You’re not here to shoot me, right?” It’s meant to be a joke, but he can’t rule that out completely based on their last meeting.

“Honestly? I considered it.”

Skskskksksksksksjs “based on their last meeting” like, Amado, buddy. You can’t rule that out ever, just by the very nature of the fact that you’re all a bunch of duplicitous, murderous cartel bosses, but it’s fine sksksks

✷ This isn’t luck. Mayo *knows* him, more than either of them is willing to admit.

UH YEAAAAHHHH I FEEL LIKE THE MOST TOUCHING, SWEET, SENTIMENTAL, WELL THOUGHT OUT GIFT OF ALL TIME MEANS HE KNOWS YOU

✷ “I thought about what you said. Most of it was fucking bullshit, but you did have one good point.”

SORRYSJSJSJS i just snorted so fucking loud bc this is so something I’d actually say

✷ “So…you’re basically using me.” There’s a subtle sourness in his chest, but he knows he’s smiling.

“Well, you used me first for a fucking long time, so now it’s my turn.”

CUE ME FUCKING JUMPING UP AND DOWN SCREAMING LIEK IVE JUST WON THE PUBLISHER’S CLEARINGHOUSE SWEEPSTAKES AND YOUVE HANDED ME A GIANT CHECK BC I GOT MY FUCKIGN HAPPY ENDING AND I SWEAR TO GOD, I TRULY DID NOT SEE HOW IT WAS GONNA BE POSSIBLE, I DID THINK I WAS GONNA GET IT BUT YOU MADE IT HAPPEN ANYWAY

Call It Even

(My rare pair writing challenge for myself that somehow turned into a 9k words novel…)

Rating: Mature

Paring: Amado/Mayo, Amado/Pacho

Words: 9,542

The first time it happened, it was more like a stress relief than anything else. The process of restructuring the entire operation of Juárez wasn’t going as smoothly as Amado had hoped. He was living in a shitty house while his new mansion was under construction. On top of all that, he still hadn’t summoned enough courage to visit his daughter’s grave.

Mayo was asking for a favor, something about moving his boats through the port in Peñasco, which technically didn’t belong to Juárez, but he was planning to expand his operation there. He didn’t know how exactly Mayo got that information, but it didn’t matter that much. People like them always had their own ways.

They were acquaintances at best, never even met alone before, but somehow Amado just knew the other man wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of a little fun time. A certain someone had given him enough experiences to develop a quite accurate instinct for this sort of thing.

They parked the boat in the middle of open water. Below the deck, even moonlight couldn’t shine through the closed door. Their bodies intertwined in complete darkness, surprisingly easy, both knowing exactly what to do, and Amado couldn’t help but wonder where Mayo got his experiences from. But then the waves must have gotten higher, because the boat started to rock back and forth, matching their increasingly intense rhythm, and all other thoughts were pushed out of his brain.

He woke up naked the next morning, under a soft blanket that smelt like sea. The boat was already moving, so he quickly got dressed and went up the deck. Mayo waved at him behind the steering wheel, or whatever that wheel was called on boats.

“How did you sleep?”

That could mean two very different things, but either way his answer was the same. “Pretty good.”

“Good.” Mayo smiled, adjusting the wheel to a fixed position, and then loosely leaned on it. “We didn’t talk about tax yesterday. How much do you want?”

“How much are you moving?”

Mayo nodded at a container in the corner, “five times that much.”

Amado walked over and took off the lid, “every week? Month?”

“Twice per month.”

He did some quick math in his head. “That’s fine, you can just move them through the port.”

Mayo lifted his eyebrows in surprise, and he wished he could take back what he said. It sounded more like an insult than a nice gesture, in more ways than one.

But then Mayo just shrugged. “Gracias compa! If you ever need a favor, or a friend…you know where to find me.”

He heard the meticulous way “friend” was pronounced, and he didn’t miss the suggestive gaze, right on the fine line between being flirtatious and blunt.

*

They didn’t see each other for a long time after that. Mayo kept his promise, moving their agreed amount and nothing more, so Amado kept his word as well, never asking for a tax. Frankly, that amount of money would mean nothing to him if he could make this new deal with Cali.

Then he wouldn’t just be moving the products. He would be selling them.

It felt weird to meet with Pacho in the presence of others. He was so used to it being just them. It was easier that way, more relaxing. They always did other things besides talking business. Those times gave him a brief illusion that the Colombian was his.

The meeting went well, and he felt nothing but gratefulness towards Pacho, knowing that Cali would never share their US territory with a Mexican if Pacho didn’t vouch for him.

In a way, that was the worst part, because he couldn’t even find a reason to be mad. How could he be mad at Pacho for not staying for a drink, when Pacho helped him to get half of the US market?

He flew back to Mexico that night and had no sleep, and the next afternoon he went to Mazatlán.

That’s why he’s standing by the port again right now, looking at the same boat. Or maybe it was a different one, just similar. He couldn’t really tell, just like others couldn’t tell his planes apart too.

*

The sun is just beginning to set, painting the sky a shade of dark orange, tainting all reflections on the water with golden sparkles. Mayo is sitting on the deck, enjoying a bottle of beer, his baseball cap placed on a chair right next to him.

He looks at Amado, and then tells his guys to leave.

“I guess you don’t need a favor.”

Amado takes off his sunglasses. He doesn’t need them under the dim sunlight. “No.”

Mayo smiles and takes the baseball cap off the chair, casually tossing it on a pile of nets nearby. “Then come aboard.”

It’s still dark below the deck, but he has just enough light to see the person right in front of him, and everything else in the background is blurred out. Their clothes are scattered on the floor. Their lips are on each other’s body so they don’t need to talk. The blankets and sheets still smell like the sea, but it’s not a bad odor— it’s fresh and natural.

It reminds him of a nice cool breeze in the midst of summer heat.

They lay side by side catching their breath, letting their heartbeats slow down after the overwhelming raw pleasure. Then the awkwardness suddenly hits him, and he doesn’t know what to say or do. That never happened before, not with women because they always wanted to cuddle, and not with Pacho either. They were already friends before anything else.

But Mayo’s not his friend, and certainly not a woman, but that thought makes him break into a smile, and Mayo spots it immediately.

“Something funny?”

There’s no point in denying it, but he’s not going to share the details. “A little.”

Mayo reaches for his pants on the floor, and takes out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pockets. “Good funny?”

“If you say so.” He waves it off when Mayo offers him the pack. This dark, enclosed space is perfect for sex, but terrible for smoking.

Mayo apparently doesn’t mind as he lights one for himself, the little spark shines on his face, casting a shadow of the nicely shaped nose.

“Did you come up with El Mayo yourself?” Amado doesn’t know where that question came from, probably just a random thought his brain made up on its own to alleviate the uneasiness.

“Yeah, why?”

“Just the month of May?”

“Why not?” Mayo blows out a puff of smoke. “It’s a good time of the year. Not too hot, not too rainy, great for sailing.”

That makes perfect sense, but almost too much sense for people like them. It feels too effortless, too authentic.

“Also, what other options do I have? El Señor de Los Cielos sounds cool, but lord of the sea just sounds like some dirty pirate with golden teeth.”

Amado bursts out laughing at that ridiculous mental image, and the best part is that it doesn’t even look bad. Mayo as a dirty pirate? Hilarious, but not bad.

Mayo laughs with him, and then doesn’t say more. Silence falls upon them again, but the awkwardness is miraculously gone.

Mayo finishes the cigarette and takes his watch from a tiny table next to the bed, which might or might not count as a nightstand. Amado sits up straight, taking it as his cue to leave.

“You want something to eat?” Mayo takes a look at time, and then starts putting on his pants. “There’s a pretty nice seafood place around here.”

“What?”

Mayo shrugs, buckling up the belt. “It’s dinner time, unless you want to drive straight back.”

*

The restaurant is small and vibrant, full of regular civilians, half look like fishermen or sailors, or maybe they’re also criminals pretending to be normal, like them.

The owner comes out to greet Mayo, not with a handshake but an earnest hug, the kind of hug that only belongs to people who have known each other for a long time.

“I give José free shrimp all the time, so he lets me eat here free for life.” Mayo suddenly says, after the owner brought them their third round of free drinks.

Amado drinks a large gulp of cold beer. “Well, does he know why you never ask to be paid?”

Mayo just looks at him and smiles. There’s something special with that smile, by now Amado has noticed. He’s no stranger to nice smiles. He’s seen it on Pacho a thousand times, seductive and irresistible. But this is different; it’s lighthearted and simple, even contagious, like smiling doesn’t need a reason.

It makes him want to smile too.

*

They have developed into a routine since then. There isn’t a fixed schedule, of course, that would be fucking weird, but they can always find out when is a good time for the other person, meaning business is going smoothly and no one’s trying to kill them at the moment.

Again, people like them always have their ways.

He’s been to most of Mayo’s boats, if not all. He even ranked them based on their comfort levels in his head. It’s actually how he can tell them apart to a large extent, not that he’s ever going to tell Mayo that. He has also learned what restaurants in Mazatlán have the freshest seafood, and that has completely ruined all seafood restaurants in Juárez. Now they all taste like shit, even the most expensive ones.

His favorite is still José’s place. The oysters are to die for, and the shrimp too, but that doesn’t surprise him. José never lets him pay, even when he’s not going with Mayo, but he always leaves a generous tip.

One day, when Amado arrives at the port as usual, he’s suddenly hit with two realizations. One, they literally have never fucked on dry land. Two, he’s always the one running around. Mayo has never been to Juárez, at least not for this matter.

“You don’t live on your boats, right?” He asks, just to make sure.

Mayo snorts, “on these boats?! What made you think that?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re here every time.” Amado shrugs, looking around at the now familiar surroundings. A random mechanic recognizes him and nods.

Mayo gives him a thoughtful look. “You never asked to go anywhere else.”

That’s true, because boats are the perfect place to do what they do. They can just sail out, park anywhere and all of a sudden, it’s like the whole world disappears. Whatever they do stays in the middle of nowhere, and at this point, they have done a lot.

However, if he’s being completely honest with himself, boats are not yachts, and he’s not twenty years old anymore. It doesn’t hurt to fuck on a nice soft king-sized bed once in a while.

“You know, if you want a change of scenery, you don’t have to come here.” Mayo leans forward a little, staring right into his eyes like he’s reading his mind. “I’m sure it’d be a lot more comfortable in your new house, or more exciting on a plane.”

Amado’s genuinely impressed at how Mayo effortlessly turned the table, kicking the ball right back to him, even making it sound a bit like his fault.

“You never offered to make the trip.” He responds, intentionally mimicking what the other man said earlier.

“I’m offering now.”

He swallows, not sure how he’s so aroused by that simple sentence, maybe it has something to do with that unfazed attitude. “The house or the plane?”

“Your place, your call.”

*

Mayo whistles when they walk into one of the large living rooms. “How long did they take to build this again?”

“Too long if you ask me.”

Outside of the floor-to-ceiling window, a few gardeners are working on the lawn. Amado walks over and closes the curtains.

Mayo runs his fingertips along the large dining table, “is this marble?”

“I think so.”

Mayo smirks, and without asking for his permission, picks up the crystal vase at the center of the table and gently sets it on the floor. “Ever tried it?”

A strong sense of deja vu suddenly hits him. The first time Pacho came to his new house, in this exact same living room, whispering in his ear, “now pick a bedroom.”

He blinks and shakes that memory out of his mind. Interestingly, he has been thinking about Pacho less frequently, at least less intensely. What just happened used to be a regular occurrence, but just now it took him by surprise.

Mayo is leaning sideways on the marble table, head slightly tilted to the side, patiently waiting. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the unexpected silence. If anything, he looks curious.

Amado shakes his head a bit frustratedly. “You just hate regular nice beds, don’t you?”

“I like them for sleeping.”

He rolls his eyes. “This is an open area. People can walk in anytime.” Not only that, there is a big sculpture of The Last Supper on the shelf directly facing this table.

“They all work for you, just tell them to stay away. We can be quiet.” Mayo glances at the sculpture, and then gives him a smirk, outright sinful. “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

He gives in. He can never resist. Sometimes he wonders how he hasn’t developed a coke addiction with his crappy self control. Maybe sex is the only thing he’s drawn to.

Despite his vindictive efforts to make it difficult, Mayo does manage to stay quiet, but he can tell the tension and excitement from the grip on his shoulders, hard enough to leave bruises. He doesn’t care. If he looks up, he can see eye to eye with Jesus. For a brief moment he doesn’t care about that either. Why should he? They’re both going to hell anyway.

*

Amado wakes up in the morning next to another warm naked body. Right, they did it again last night, finally on a bed like normal people. Sunlight shines through the small slit between heavy curtains. The room looks peaceful at this time, and so does the person. For some reason Mayo always woke up before him in their previous encounters, so this is actually the first time Amado sees him asleep.

He doesn’t realize he’s leaning in until their faces are inches apart from each other. Then Mayo opens his eyes.

It could be some sixth sense that they all eventually develop in their world. The sleepiness in Mayo’s light brown eyes turns into alert immediately. Amado jumps back just in time to avoid being hit in the face.

The air is filled with awkward tension as they stare at each other from their own side of bed, both still naked under the cover.

“Shit man,” Mayo laughs and runs a hand down his face, “don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry.” He mutters, turning away to get out of bed.

“What time is it?” Mayo asks, although there is a large clock right there on the wall.

“Around 8:40.” Amado answers as he walks to the closet, putting on a black bathrobe.

“Great, I should be back by noon.” Mayo takes the identical robe right next to it and wraps it around himself.

“Something going on?”

“There’s always something going on.” Mayo brushes off the question and walks towards the bathroom, but stops in front of the nightstand as something catches his eye.

“Huh, is this the one you flew to Mazatlán last time?” He picks it up, and Amado’s heart drops as he sees what’s in the other man’s hands.

“Put that down!”

“Sí, tranquilo!” Mayo immediately sets it back down on the nightstand, and then puts up both hands. “Sorry.”

Amado pinches the bridge of his nose. He didn’t realize how dramatic his tone was, but he’s not going to apologize. Mayo shouldn’t be touching his stuff without asking, but he also didn’t set that rule straight yesterday with the vase.

Mayo crosses his arms and fixes him with an inquisitive stare, not at all offended or demanding, just simply curious about his sudden outburst, and somehow that enrages him even more. He knows it’s not the best way to deal with the situation, but at this moment, he just wants to tell Mayo to go take a shower, get dressed and get out of his house.

“My bad, I should have known.” Mayo breaks the silence with another apology. “Of course you would have some strong attachments to planes, even if it’s a model.”

If it came from anyone else, it would sound like they were making fun of him, saying he was like a little boy holding onto his toys. But Mayo somehow always manages to make the teasing remarks sound harmless and fun, like there are no other hidden meanings.

Amado sighs, “it was my daughter’s.”

Sometimes he forgets that he doesn’t have to hide her existence anymore. No one can hurt her now.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Mayo lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “How old is she?”

“Six.” He walks towards the nightstand and adjusts the toy plane to the exact same location and angle as before. “She was six.”

He knows Mayo will catch the specific choice of word, so he doesn’t bother to meet him in the eye. He remembers how Pacho looked at him after hearing the news: shock, pity, pain… As heartwarming as it was to know someone else cared, he doesn’t want to see any of that again.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know.”

Amado remains quiet, because he doesn’t want to say it’s ok. It’s fucking not.

“What was her name?”

“Anna.”

“Sounds very pretty.”

She is. She’s the prettiest little girl he’s ever seen.

He hears a gentle sigh, and then footsteps walking away. The bathroom door closes, and water starts running.

*

Nothing prepared Amado for the news Pacho brought. Cali is getting out of the business, for good. But why? How? What is he going to do? Where else can he get this amount of supply? “Gilberto and Miguel have always treated me as family. I’m going to join them.”

Amado understands that. Really, he does. But what about him? Hasn’t he always treated Pacho with utmost respect, trust and adoration? Hasn’t he been the best business partner, a good friend and more?

What about them?

Once Pacho has made up his mind, there’s no way to change it. Amado knows. That’s one of the reasons he respects him so much. But respect does nothing to ease the pain, so he does the only thing he knows whenever he’s in a bad place these days. He dials the familiar number.

*

Mayo opens the door when he arrives at the house in a suburban area. Amado hasn’t been here before, but it looks like a nice house, just not the house. It’s well decorated, both comfortable and aesthetic, but he just doesn’t feel like this is a place Mayo would call home. Why he feels that way, he doesn’t know, and he’s also not in the mood to think about.

They waste no time getting into bed, pieces of clothing scattered all over the expensive carpet. They’ve done it both ways, and both have been highly enjoyable, but tonight he’s not here for fun. He just desperately needs to let out his frustration in someone, someone who doesn’t mind.

When he shoves the other man into the mattress, Mayo shoots him a suspicious glance but doesn’t protest, which he really appreciates. He enters the warm body with little preparation, feeling the muscles clenching around his length. He forces himself to take a deep breath and slow down, so he doesn’t actually hurt him. Causing pain to whomever he sleeps with is never a turn-on.

Underneath him Mayo silently grabs the silky sheet, and he covers it with his own hand, intertwining their fingers tightly until their knuckles turn white.

The orgasm is satisfying and cathartic as usual, but physical pleasure can only do so much. They sit on their own sides of bed, the only thing floating in silent air is the smoke from two cigarettes.

Finally Mayo turns to him first, intentionally blowing a puff of smoke next to his face. “That bad?”

Amado knows he’s not talking about the sex. That was never bad.

That’s never the bad part with anyone.

“Have you ever had partners?” He asks, although he doesn’t even know why that question came to mind, or how that’s relevant in any way.

“Partners? No.” Mayo chuckles, “things change, people change, and once you have a disagreement…”

He pauses and turns to look Amado in the eye. It’s probably not a special or intense look to anyone else, but Amado knows all about it now: the teasing suggestiveness that’s always followed by something provocative, for better or worse.

“When things don’t work out, you will have to betray them, or kill them, right?”

Amado frowns, suddenly realizes how audacious Mayo has become with him, but what’s worse is that he doesn’t feel offended or threatened when he should.

“Hey, no judgment here. You do what you have to do. That’s the business.” Mayo pats him playfully on the naked shoulder. “I’m just saying that’s too much trouble for me. Always better to be my own boss.”

Is it? Maybe. Amado agrees, but he wouldn’t have agreed a decade ago. He thinks about Acosta, and even Miguel. He used to see them as partners. Maybe he doesn’t call them families like how Pacho calls the other Cali godfathers, but he cared about them at some point.

But Mayo has always been on his own. Maybe he’s more of a lone wolf than any of them.

Maybe that’s why Amado keeps coming back.

*

He thought losing his supply would be the biggest problem, but he should have known the golden rule in their business: when one thing goes to shit, everything goes to shit.

He just got off the plane an hour ago, hadn’t even had something to eat yet, and the fucking Arellanos shot up his favorite restaurant. He lost two bodyguards, but everyone else got out of there safely. He’s unscratched.

Amado rushes back home, asks his men to do a thorough security evaluation, and pours himself a generous glass of whiskey. When his phone rings, he has barely finished one third of the glass.

Mayo doesn’t bother to say hello. “Did they make a move on you too?”

It’s a vague question, doesn’t even specify who they are. Amado can play oblivious if he wants, but a shootout in a public restaurant is no secret, so there’s no point in denying.

“Why are you asking?”

He hears a sigh. “Well, they burned my ship. Just trying to figure out if I’m the only one they’re pissed at.”

Amado almost wants to tell him he got off easy. Having a ship burned sounds much better than being shot at. But this is not the time for jokes.

“You want to meet tomorrow? For business.” Now that he thinks about it, the last two words really aren’t necessary.

“Sure, Juárez or Mazatlán?”

“I’ll fly there first thing in the morning. Meet by the port?”

“Sounds good. I’ll show you the wreckage.”

Mayo makes it sound like something good, which he doesn’t understand, but now he’s curious. Which ship was burned? The biggest one? How many times have they done it in that one?

“So…see you tomorrow?” Mayo asks tentatively, snapping him out of his roaming thoughts. He must have been quiet for a while.

He quickly confirms and hangs up the phone. It’s been a long day, and he needs to get up early tomorrow. Time for some sleep.

*

Amado has never been to this port in the morning, and the beautiful scene makes him wonder why he hasn’t. Morning sunlight is bright but gentle, without the burning afternoon heat, just a hopeful glow on the tranquil water. It contrasts the ship wreckage perfectly, almost in an artistic way.

“Shit, the biggest one?” Amado shakes his head looking at the ruins. “Always come for what we love, right?”

“It’s a shame. She was my favorite one. Still had a few good years to go.��� Mayo touches the burned metal frame. “But it’s fine. We managed to put it out before it could spread to other boats.”

“I assume you’re here to talk about a plan.” Mayo leads him to another boat, takes out two bottles of beers from a freezer and throws him one.

He catches it. “And I assume you already have one.”

Mayo smirks behind the beer bottle, and then goes on to explain how he plans to use Sinaloan’s manpower to move products through Tijuana. It’s a unique plan, the kind of plan that only Mayo can pull off, because the asshole knows everyone and somehow always gets what he wants from these connections.

That means Mayo wants something from him too.

“What do you need from me?”

“Chapo already has men, so we just need products to get going. The numbers you’re doing? I’m sure you don’t mind sparing a little.” Mayo raises the half empty bottle to him, “and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“What rest?”

“What else?” Mayo shrugs, “the Arellanos tried to kill you. Surely the Lord of the Skies won’t let that slide.”

The sun is rising higher, and he puts on his sunglasses. “I don’t know. The Arellanos helped me to take down Félix.”

Mayo simply takes another sip of beer. “So?”

The nonchalance and casual cruelty send an exciting chill down his spine, rushing blood to somewhere that it absolutely shouldn’t go right now.

“I’ll advance your products.” He says, a bit hurriedly. It’s a good thing that he has his sunglasses on.

“Great. Then it’s a deal.”

Usually this is when they shake hands, but at this point, they both know they’re closer than that.

“It’s a deal.” Amado nods, and claps Mayo’s shoulder, giving it a firm shake.

The other man immediately tenses up under his touch, almost like a held-back flinch. The beer bottle drops on the deck and shatters.

“What…” Startled, Amado removes his hand. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing. The bottle just got slippery.”

“No, what happened to your left arm?”

Mayo waves it off with the other arm. “It’s fine, man. Not a big deal.”

“Don’t give me that shit.” He meant to use a stern tone, but it comes out more annoyed than anything. “What the fuck’s going on?”

Mayo lets out a frustrated sigh, acting like Amado is the unreasonable one here. “Just a burn I got last night, when I got off the ship.”

“When you…wait, they tried to burn the ship while you were on the ship?”

“You know how it is. We’ve all done it.” Mayo says that casually, and Amado truly doesn’t understand how he’s so calm about it. People fuck over and kill each other in this business. That’s no news. But almost being burned alive?!

“They fucked up their chance, and now it’s our turn. It’s that simple.” Mayo explains, like he’s the one trying to calm Amado down, which is quite funny since Amado is usually the calm one.

Then it hits him. He is usually calmer than this. He’s had friends killed. He has killed friends. Mayo is right, because a burn on the arm is nothing with their standard. He shouldn’t care this much.

He doesn’t know when he started to.

“We’ll get back at them, right?” Mayo pulls him out of his thoughts again. “That’s what we’re talking about here.”

“Yeah.” Amado adjusts his sunglasses, trying to get his brain back to business mode, and when he speaks, the viciousness in his voice matches perfectly with the rage inside. “They need to die.”

“I’ll make sure of that.”

“But try to do it quietly. We don’t want to end up like Benjamín.”

Mayo gives him a smile, the kind of smile that’s only reserved for when they’re alone, often naked. “Please Amado, we both know how to keep things quiet pretty well.”

*

Turns out things can only be so quiet when you’re torturing and killing people daily. Mayo even burned a bunch of people alive. Of course he did.

The violence doesn’t surprise him, but Hank’s reaction does. It starts to make more sense when he puts more thoughts into the situation. Hank is a politician, and with politicians, it’s all about appearances, about what everything looks like on the outside. At the end of the day, they don’t care how many people in the drug business die, as long as it doesn’t get traced back to them. That’s why Hank is threatening to cut all ties.

Again, when one thing goes to shit, everything goes to shit.

Pacho visits him again to talk about a final deal with Cali, but they both know that’s just an excuse for them to see each other one last time.

They drink, they talk, they laugh at each other’s jokes. Everything feels natural and relaxing, because by one in a million chance, they actually enjoy each other’s company. They like each other, a lot, and that fucking destroys him.

When they finally move to the bedroom, Amado wishes time would pause so he can imprint every detail of this experience in his brain, remember every little sound Pacho makes when he’s touched, the way each muscle tenses with arousal, and how those beautiful brown eyes stare right into his when pleasure takes them both over the edge.

He will miss this, he knows, every bit of it.

“Stay.” He says hopefully, desperately. “We can start something on our own. It’ll be good, just like the old times.”

The old times are slipping away, faster everyday and he can’t stop it. He wants Pacho, needs Pacho to be here, to remind him that it’s possible to have something actually good come out of this business, besides money he can’t spend in ten life times.

“I can’t. You know I would if I could.” Pacho’s smooth voice sounds even deeper, almost like a sigh, and there’s nothing other than honesty and sorrow in his words. “Gilberto, Miguel and Chepe are my family. I love them. I can’t leave them when they need me the most.”

Amado feels a lump in his throat, and he has to blink away the burning sensation behind his eyes. He will miss Pacho, but that’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is he sees it now: not even Pacho can give him what he craves for.

It’s not sex, and even a good friendship isn’t enough. The way Pacho is willing to risk everything for his Cali family, the way Acosta was willing to die for Mimi, that is what he wants. And he hasn’t felt that since he lost his daughter.

He wants someone. What’s the fucking point to get on top of the world only to end up dying alone in a ditch or a small cell?

“Hey, Amado…” Pacho touches his cheek, uncharacteristically gentle, eyes filled with genuine care and empathy. “You will find your way out too, and you will find someone to do it with. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t know how Pacho read his mind, and also doesn’t know the answer to that question, but he smiles and says yes, because both of them deserve to hear it. They should end on a hopeful note, just like how they started, believing they were building the biggest collaborative empire in narcos history. Now, they need to believe they will get out of it.

*

Preparing for a grand escape plan is not easy, especially for someone like him: the number one target on everyone’s list, since he’s doing the biggest numbers.

There are several times when Amado’s having too much stress and not enough sleep, he has an almost unstoppable desire to call Mayo. It’s like a habit now, the perfect person to have an hour of good time with just to chase some temporary release before he has to get back to reality. At least that’s what he’s telling himself. It’s just the sex, and the good food, and the occasional entertaining conversations, and… He shakes himself out of it. This is not a good time for that. There won’t ever be a good time again.

Surprisingly, Mayo ends up contacting him first, saying they have business to discuss. Honestly, they do. Things in Tijuana are getting too loud, which can’t be good for his already challenging escape plan. And speaking of that, he should at least have the decency to let Mayo know, not about his plan of course, but just the fact that their deal, cooperation and whatever else is over.

Amado should have reached out first, but he has been delaying it because he’s been busy, because there are a hundred more important things to take care of, because Mayo probably doesn’t even need it — such a gesture is never expected from people like them.

All these are true, but none of them is the most crucial reason.

He doesn’t want to.

*

This is the most silent conversation they’ve had, even tenser than the first time they met, or the first time they fucked. He used to think it was impossible to have an awkward interaction with Mayo. The man has many talents, but the most of them all is his forever easygoing demeanor. It has always been comfortable to be around him, until now.

“So, is the rumor true?” Mayo takes a small sip of beer and sets the bottle neatly on the coaster.

“What rumor?” It’s not a rhetorical question. There are ten new rumors every hour these days.

“You know, about Cali.” Mayo smiles and tilts his head suggestively, and the air is filled with a dangerous sense of provocation, dancing on the edge of offensiveness. “People have been talking, but who knows better than you? You are the one with the relationship.”

The words are spoken in a gentle, teasing tone, almost warm, yet Amado feels himself freeze, muscles tensing up instinctively like he’s about to enter a shootout.

He bites out the word in a flat tone. “Relationship?”

“Yeah? I mean, we’re all transporting their products, but you are the only one they have a close relationship with. Everyone knows that.”

Amado slowly leans closer, usually that would be a gesture of intimacy between them, but now it only carries threat and pressure. “What are you trying to say, Mayo?”

“That they’re getting out of the business?” Mayo shrugs and picks up the beer bottle again, casually taking another sip, and just like that, the air is again filled with a relaxed atmosphere. “They’re your supply, and right now my supply is you, so I need to know if that’s true.”

Amado stares into Mayo’s eyes, hoping to see something in the other man’s eyes that can give him away: nervousness, challenge or even smugness, but there’s nothing besides curiosity, as if that provocative stare earlier only existed in Amado’s imaginations.

Mayo silently holds his gaze, completely chill like he has nothing to hide, and if Amado knows anything about the man, is that he can maintain that pretense for as long as he wants.

Amado sighs and leans back into his chair. “It’s true.”

“I see.” Mayo nods, seemingly not surprised at all. “Things are changing fast these days, huh?”

“They are.”

“Well, guess I’ll get going then, a lot to take care of.” Mayo finishes the beer, grabs his cowboy hat and starts walking away, but then he stops, turning back to Amado again.

“Hey you know what? Why don’t you fly me back to Mazatlán?”

“…What?”

“You’ve been on all my boats, but I’ve never been on one of your planes.” Mayo leans sideways on a wall, a pretty clear gesture to show he’s not leaving until he gets what he wants. “That doesn’t sound fair, does it?”

It’s a silly question. Since when is fairness ever a consideration in their business? But this isn’t a business request.

This entire meeting has little to do with business.

*

Mayo doesn’t hide his surprise and confusion when they get out of the car at the end of a dirt road, surrounded by sparse desert plants.

“What, didn’t meet your expectations?” Amado feels the corners of his mouth curving up as he leads them through a narrow path into an open area covered by bushes and large stones, where a few small but efficient planes are hidden. If he has a choice, he rather spends more time here, out in an open field with his planes. He can fly away anytime, get up there in the sky and let everything fade away. How nice would that be?

“Maybe? I thought it would be fancier, you know, like your house.”

Amado snorts, “I’m sure the DEA would love that too.”

“Fair enough, so which one’s your favorite?”

“None of them. My favorite one, she is a bit too old to fly now.” Amado answers truthfully. There’s no need for tests and games now. This is the last time.

“I get it. It’s like your first love, never easy to let go.” Mayo nods, not in a casual, dismissive way, but like he truly understands, and maybe he does. Maybe Mayo also bought his first boat on a payment plan, and kept it running as long as he could.

Amado doesn’t know if that’s really the case because he never asked, and it’s too late to ask now. So he simply walks to a plane and unlocks the door.

Mayo climbs into the co-pilot seat, not hiding his curiosity as he observes the hundreds of buttons on the control panel, and even touches a few without asking. Amado’s pretty sure Mayo did that just to push his buttons.

“Yeah, this is too fucking complicated.”

“They’re pretty intuitive once you understand them.” Amado quickly completes the checklist before taking off. It’s like muscle memory to him now. “I like it more than driving.”

“Oh I’m sure! At least there’s no traffic up there.” Mayo laughs, and it sounds no different than their countless previous encounters. Amado swallows down the uncomfortable sourness in his chest, silently moving the plane to the runway.

“Put your headset on.”

“Yes sir.” The teasing voice comes out of his own headset and it makes his neck tingle. It sounds too close, like a whisper right into his ear.

The runway looks unimpressive but it’s very well maintained. Within a minute, they’re smoothly going up in the air.

Once they reach a stable attitude, he immediately hears Mayo’s voice coming from the headset again. “So how good of a pilot are you?”

Amado scoffs, “what do you think?”

“I don’t know, maybe you’ve gotten rusty? It’s not like you need to transport your own cargo these days.”

Amado rolls his eyes. “If you’re challenging me to do tricks in the air, it’s not fucking happening.”

“What? No! Why would I…” Mayo bursts out laughing, “I have something else in mind.”

“No.” Amado hears the word coming out of his own mouth before Mayo’s hand reaches his thigh.

“Why not?”

“Do you want to die?”

“I thought you were a good pilot.” The hand slowly moves closer, skillful fingers closing around his belt buckle, “a very good one.”

“Stop it.”

“Calm down. We won’t be landing in a while, right? I’m not a pilot but I know this is the easy part.” His belt buckle opens with a click. He didn’t actually hear it with his headset on, but somehow he felt the sound.

Mayo was right. There’s not much to do until he starts the landing process. Sure, it’s still reckless to get a handjob while flying, but that’s not why he can’t do it.

He’s already enjoying everything too much as it is.

“Mayo, stop it right now.” He says that in the most threatening tone he can manage at the moment, but even he can hear the subtle shakiness.

He hears a scoff, and then his zipper opens. “I don’t think you mean that.”

Soft fingertips meet his growing desire, and there’s no way to explain, nowhere to hide.

No. This is not happening.

He grabs Mayo’s hand, yanks it out of his pants and throws it to the other side of the cockpit like a piece of hot metal.

Amado hears a loud bang, and from the side vision, he sees Mayo’s body tense up at the impact. He expects a painful groan, but no sound is coming through his headset.

He sighs and turns to look. Mayo’s balling his left hand into a fist. It looks red with a few small cuts. Maybe it hit an uneven surface on the control panel.

Mayo silently looks up and meets his gaze, and for the first time, he sees a crack of that seemingly undisturbable front. He sees rage, raw and uncontrolled, natural. If Amado weren’t still controlling the plane, he would definitely be punched in the face now.

“Did anything break?”

“No.”

“Ok.”

He wants to say more, maybe even apologize, but then decides against it. He wishes he could do something without much talking, like offering an ice pack. Then he remembers he can actually do that.

“There’s a first aid box at the back if you need it.”

“Ok.” Mayo says, but doesn’t go get it.

They spend the rest of the flight in complete silence. When they’re approaching Mazatlán, Amado nearly makes a comment on how beautiful the sea is, just a natural reaction, but then he bites his lips and swallows the words back.

The landing is as smooth as the take off. Amado turns off the engine, and suddenly all background noise disappears.

Mayo gives him one last look, neither hostile or friendly, just acknowledging his existence.

“It was a good ride, for as long as it lasted.”

Then he opens the door and steps off. Amado watches him walk away. He thought it would feel different, more significant in a way, but it’s not. It’s just a walk, probably a regular occurance for Mayo, walking away from someone, forgetting everything they offered and didn’t offer, and just like that, simply onto the next journey.

Always better to be my own boss.

He’s a man of his words, and Amado respects that.

*

It takes another three weeks to get everything ready: house, money, securities, the exact plane he needs to fly. He thought about every possible way that things could go wrong and how to counter each scenario. It’s the best plan he could come up with, and if that doesn’t work…well, there’s an end to everything.

It’s 6 pm in the evening. Amado sits alone on the grand staircase, looking down at the luxurious living room. He once overheard a maid telling a gardener the sunset looked gorgeous from the floor to ceiling window in this living room. He didn’t pay much attention, pretty much forgot about it right after. But just earlier today it suddenly came back to him, because he wanted to watch the beautiful sunset from his home at least once.

In two days, he will be gone.

He slowly sips a glass of whiskey, watching the sky get darker. Maybe he’s supposed to feel some kind of tranquility. Things might not go as planned tomorrow, he knows that and has made peace with it more or less. Whatever happens, he’s had an exciting life, more exciting than most.

Still, he can’t shake the restless feeling in his chest, and deep down he knows why. It’s been there since his last trip to Mazatlán.

Mayo might have gotten the closure he wanted, but Amado hasn’t.

He’s been telling himself it doesn’t matter either way, but that’s a lie. He’s never been someone to leave a loose end of any kind. He’s never been a coward since he got into this business, and he’s certainly not going to be one at the end of it.

Amado gets up from the stairs, grabs a jacket and walks out of the door.

*

It’s already pitch dark when he gets to Mazatlán, completely alone. Ironically, that reminds him of their first few encounters, always in the darkness that hides them from everyone else, as well as themselves.

He knows where Mayo lives. He’s known it for a very long time, but never had a reason to visit without an invitation, until now.

The guards by the door look equally perplexed and scared, and Amado wonders if their patrón ever informed them of this possibility, if Mayo ever expected him to intrude.

The door opens after several minutes, and through some complicated corridors, he’s led to a cozy room that looks like a study. The light is dim and intimate, the armchair feels soft. Everything here is screaming for something to happen, except the owner himself.

“What a big surprise.” Mayo gives him a smile across from the large wooden desk, appropriate and polite.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Does it matter if I do?”

Amado looks away for a second. “Maybe not.” It’s true. Once he’s gone it wouldn’t matter.

“So? This must be something important.”

“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just…I didn’t make it clear last time.” He takes a deep breath, and then slowly exhales. “I told you about the supply, but…”

He stops mid-sentence. He’s practiced this over a hundred times in his head on the way here, but there is no other way to say I’m disappearing for good without actually saying it.

“You won’t see or hear from me again,” he ends up saying. It’s the closest to truth he can afford to share, “for quite a while.”

“I see.” There’s a second of surprise on Mayo’s face, but he immediately looks away to hide it. Then it’s completely gone when their eyes meet again. “Maybe laying low for a while isn’t a bad idea, considering all that’s happening.”

Part of Amado wishes Mayo to say something else, to give a hint that he knows what’s really happening, so there is at least one person in the world that understands.

But why should Mayo understand? It’s not like he knows much about Mayo either. Amado looks at the artworks and books on the shelf behind the desk. Are they just decorations or do they have more meanings? He doesn’t know, does he?

“You’re gonna be ok? With supply and everything?”

Mayo chuckles, relaxed and genuine just like the good old times. “You know me, Amado.”

“Yeah. Always been your own boss, right?”

He feels the smile on his own face as they look at each other. There is no tension or sorrow, just a peacefulness that makes his stomach warm.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Since you’re here…” Mayo opens a drawer and takes out a small box. “I wanted to give it to you last time when you flew me back, but you know, plans change.”

It’s not wrapped or decorated in any way, just a plain black box. He gives Mayo a questioning look, but the other man just shrugs, so he opens it.

It’s a small sculpture of a boat, not like the ones Mayo uses to transport shrimp and coke, but a dreamy sailboat with exquisite pink and golden patterns, like something that belongs to a princess in fairy tales. Under the boat, white waves are curling on the crystal blue ocean, but they also look like sky and clouds.

And on the boat is a dark-haired little girl in a long white dress. Her eyes are closed and her lips are tilted up into a sweet smile. She’s holding a bible to her chest, a cross dangling from her neck.

Right below where the girl is standing, on the side of the boat, it writes Anna.

Amado opens his mouth to say something, but he feels his throat close up. Suddenly it’s hard to make a sound or even breathe.

“At first I wanted to make a plane that takes her to heaven, but then I figured it might be too modern for God.” He hears Mayo speaking again. Maybe he’s been silent for too long, but his brain can’t even register the words he’s hearing. “I mean, the ark was a boat, right?”

“I…” He tries to speak again, and his voice comes out hoarse and strained. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Hey, it’s ok, really!” Now somehow Mayo also seems to be panicking a little, which is almost a miracle. “It’s not like I made it myself. I just paid someone to do it and it’s not even expensive.”

Amado traces the word Anna with his fingertips, feeling the delicate design. All of a sudden a trigger in his brain is flipped, releasing a piece of memory, with Pacho’s voice echoing in his ears.

You will find someone.

He already has, when he wasn’t even looking.

He was just fucking blind.

He reaches over and grabs Mayo’s hand.

“Come with me.”

“…What? To where?”

“I’m not laying low for a while. I’m leaving, forever, in two days.”

“Oh! Ok…that’s…” So many turbulent emotions flash through Mayo’s face, and Amado has never seen something more vivid, more real. “And you said…What are you asking exactly?!”

“I know I should have said something sooner, way sooner, but it’s now or never.” Amado feels the hand under his palm tense up, so he rubs circles on the skin soothingly. “And I don’t want it to be never.”

“You…” Mayo stares at him completely dumbfounded, speechless. Maybe he deserves some kind of award just for that. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Look, just think about it. How long are you gonna keep doing this? And what’s your end goal? To make bigger numbers than me? Than Cali? Escobar?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I know, I’m not…” He feels Mayo trying to pull the hand away, so he lets it go out of respect. “You’re right. That’s none of my business, but I know one thing.”

He looks around the room at the tasteful decorations representing their owner’s wealth. “All these… They’ll be gone when the end catches up, one way or another.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“You know, but no one really wants that, not even you.” Amado leans forward and puts both of his hands on the desk. “For the longest time I also thought I was fine with it, but no one wants to be alone.”

Mayo remains quiet and expressionless for a while, and Amado waits patiently, more than willing to give him the time. But then his entire figure hardens. “So that’s what this is all about.”

Amado senses something is terribly wrong, but he doesn’t know what. “What do you mean?”

“Well let’s see, where do I begin? The government was onto you, you lost your supply and your Colombian boyfriend dumped you. So you came up with an escape plan, which was a pretty good idea. But when the 48 hour count down began, you had some kind of…fucking existential crisis, so you came here to grab the first person you could think of, to bring them like a bag of cash.”

“What?! No! How did you even…”

“No? Really?!” Mayo abruptly stands up and bangs on the desk with both hands, so hard that he feels the floor vibrate a little.

Amado leans back into his chair out of sheer instinct. He’s not frightened by the outburst, but he is genuinely, wholeheartedly in shock.

Mayo glances at the door and lowers his voice, but the menace it carries only increases. “Tell me again, when are you leaving?”

“In two days?”

“How long did it take for you to prepare?”

“…Several months.”

“And how long have we known each other?”

He looks up to meet Mayo’s eyes again, and he sees it, the thick layer of pain shadowing all the anger.

Mayo balls both hands into fists, slightly trembling with tension. Under the table, Amado holds the sculpture tightly, its hard edges digging into his palm. It hurts.

Maybe Mayo should have just punched him last time on the plane after they landed. He would have deserved it, and Mayo could have saved himself some trouble.

But nothing happens, just like nothing happened last time. Eventually Mayo lets out a long sigh and sits back down.

“I hope you can get away, and I’m not telling this to anyone.” Mayo takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a long drag. “But get the fuck out of my house.”

Amado feels his body burning, but there’s also a scary numbness, like his brain literally just overheated his entire body because it couldn’t handle everything that was going on.

He swallows and puts his hands on the armrests, bracing himself to stand up, then turns around to walk away.

“I’m sorry.” He says, when he reaches the door. The words came out on their own, surprising himself. He turns around, truly one last time.

“I’m sorry. I mean it.”

“I said get out.”

*

Amado spends the next two days in autopilot mode. He already knows everything that needs to be done, so he just does them, but it feels more like accomplishing a preassigned task rather than going to his freedom. He doesn’t know what happens after, and he barely made sense of what happened before, so he is simply going to execute the plan. It’s his only option now.

He hugs his brother one last time when they get to the deserted secret airport, watching the car drive away. Then he just stands there by himself for a few minutes, registering the fact that this is really happening. Then he starts to move his luggage into the plane. There are quite a few bags, understandably, so it will take him several trips.

When he’s about to walk out of the plane to grab the last two duffel bags, he hears a car coming. Silently cursing, Amado takes out his gun and takes cover inside the plane, peeking out of a window.

The person walks out of the car.

His breath hitches.

Amado slowly walks down the air stair, pistol pointing at the ground. “You’re not here to shoot me, right?” It’s meant to be a joke, but he can’t rule that out completely based on their last meeting.

“Honestly? I considered it.” Mayo leans back on the car and crosses his arm, “but that doesn’t fit my best interest.”

“How did you even find me?”

“You brought me here once. Did you forget that too?”

He doesn’t respond, and doesn’t need to. They both know that doesn’t answer the question.

“I saw the news for the last two days. They’ve been seizing your large hangers, thinking they’ve got you pinned down. But I thought hey, maybe that was the plan, a well timed distraction.” Mayo shrugs, “Believe it or not, it was a blind guess, just good luck.”

Amado turns the safety back on and tucks the gun away. This isn’t luck. Mayo knows him, more than either of them is willing to admit.

“Alright, say I believe that.” He takes a few steps closer tentatively. “Why are you here?”

“I thought about what you said. Most of it was fucking bullshit, but you did have one good point.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Amado adjusts his jacket. All of a sudden he’s feeling the chilliness of the evening breeze, like his body is coming out of the robotic state.

“I don’t want to wait for the end to catch up, and if I’m being honest, with how things are going these days? When the time comes for me I might not have a plan better than this one that you spent months working on, whatever it is.”

Mayo walks to the back of the car and opens the truck, revealing several large bags.

“So I’m taking advantage of this good chance right now.”

“So…you’re basically using me.” There’s a subtle sourness in his chest, but he knows he’s smiling.

“Well, you used me first for a fucking long time, so now it’s my turn.”

Amado walks over and helps him take out two bags. His own luggage on the ground can wait a little.

“Then let’s call it even?”

“I don’t know, depends on where we’re going.”

“Chile.”

Mayo thinks about it, and then smiles.

“Deal.”

*

“We also need to hide your car.” Amado says, after they moved everything into the plane.

“Don’t worry about it, José will take care of it later.” Mayo waves him off, “I do have some plans, you know?”

“Wait…José? José the restaurant guy?!”

Mayo pauses for several seconds, and then bursts out laughing. “Right, I never told you!”

“Never told me what?”

Mayo pats him on the shoulder, with that exact same casual playfulness as before. The only difference is this time Mayo lets the touch linger there.

“I’ll tell you everything later. We’ve got time.”

@ashlingiswriting @hausofmamadas @mandaloria314 @drabbles-mc @cherixrosa @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @anunhealthydoseofangst @narcolini @artemiseamoon @alreadywritten @sikkui @dashavau

[jamilelucato]

Your Embrace

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Requests:

1. @witchglow​ hey love! congratulations on your followers! 🥺💗 can i request fred weasley x reader on which they are on the grimmauld place is not have beds for all so they have to share the bed, then they end up hugging or something like and the other day they wait and are super embarrassed, but in the end the two admit that they can share the bed whenever they want (im sorry if it got confused 😿) thank u, stay safe 💗😼💖

2. @whizbangs-78​ congrats on 1.5k followers!!! could i request a fred weasley x reader with the one bed trope pleaseee??? thank youuu c: also if you're requests for this are closed feel free to ignore thank youu c: congrats on the milestone, again!!

A/N: since the requests were very similar, I decided to combine both of them, hope you two like it! again, I can’t seem to write short fics.

Send a request! ||  Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series

It was late in the night when Professor McGonagall fetched you and all of the Weasleys to go to Dumbledore so you could all take a Portkey back to Grimmauld Place. The Professor said something had happened with Arthur Weasley; so all of his children, you and Harry were taken away from Hogwarts. 

It wasn’t the protocol getting you to travel too, but since you were awake when Professor McGonagall showed up in a hurry and told you to fetch Ginny, you managed to convince McGonagall that you would’ve to come with the Weasleys.

When finally there, nobody was able to stay still. 

Fred and George were desperately trying to convince someone to take them to St. Mungo’s, even though Sirius repeated that it was not the smartest thing to do. The best was waiting inside of the House of Black even if it was not easy.

You noticed Fred and George weren’t going to let Sirius have a moment of peace — if there could be one at this point — so you requested a tour around the place since it was your first time there.

Reluctantly, Fred and George walked you around the house.

“He’s gonna be alright, come on; you both know it,” you said while walking through some sort of music room — it had a piano at least. “Your dad’s tough.”

George sighed but remained in silence. It was Fred that spoke.

“You can’t be sure of that. ”

You sat down in the piano, running your fingers carelessly over the musical instrument. Thankfully, the sound that came of that wasn’t loud.

“I can’t, you’re right,” you lamented, gulping.

Fred and George stared at themselves — they were in opposite corners of the room — and then they looked down at you in the piano stool.

“Sorry I was rude,” gasped Fred, stepping closer to you.

He was already taller than you, but with you sitting, the difference started to actually hurt your neck.

You shrugged in response. Fred knew you weren’t mad at him, he didn’t need to hear you say it. However, for just a second, he gazed down at you, locked in your eyes. Those moments were happening with more frequency, and that kinda worried him. He was sure he was being too obvious, and you would soon realize you saw him as more than just friends.

But you were too worried about your own obviousness towards fancying Fred to notice he liked you as well.

George looked around the room, trying really hard to not make a sound and interrupt the moment. He knew how much his twin fancied you. He suspected you desired Fred too, but he wasn’t sure yet.

You fake coughed, totally ruining the moment on purpose. Gosh, if Fred finds out I like him, he’ll never talk to me again, you thought, turning to face the piano.

“Do you guys know how to play?” you asked, running your fingers over it once again.

Fred and George exchanged looks before bursting in laughter.

“Do you take us for pianists?” George asked back before laughing again.

You should have paid more attention — they seriously didn’t look like musicians. Even so, you three squizzed yourselves in the one stool and attempted to produce music. Each of the twins sat in one of your sides, and you had to concentrate a lot to act normal with Fred’s proximity. You two were practically breathing the same air. 

George’s here too, you freak, you thought, biting your inner cheek.

At ten past five in the morning, after a dozen attempts to play Für Elise — you three couldn’t even pass the third note —, Mrs Weasley stopped by the house.

As soon as Fred and George heard the doo, they jumped out of the stool.

“ ‘S gotta be mum,” said Fred. All the calm he had gained with playing the piano with you disappeared.

“Let’s see her,” said George and they walked away of the music room without waiting for you.

You sighed, closing the piano fallboard before getting up and heading out. 

Of course, you were worried about their father, but you were also very, very tired. They were sleeping when the Professor fetched them, but you had been wide awake by the fireplace trying to finish a book you were desperate to know the end. Now, you couldn’t care less.

When you got to the kitchen, Ginny, Harry, Ron, Fred and George were around Mrs Wealsey, analyzing every word she had to say.

“We can all go and see him later,” she finished saying. It was probably a phrase that had started before you got downstairs, but there was no need to hear more — if they could go see him, it meant he’d be alright.

Fred turned his face around, looking for you, and when he found your eyes, he pressed his lips together tightly. It was his way of saying he was sorry again because you actually turned out to be correct.

“Oh, y/N, my dear, I didn’t know you were here too,” said Mrs Weasley, interrupting your discreet moment with Fred.

“Yeah,” you said, having no idea of what to say beyond that. It was weird and unexpected your presence there. Not even Hermione was there, and she was always around Ron.

You didn’t spend much time with the whole Weasley family; just Hogwarts time with Fred and George. Sometimes, you’d share trips to Hogsmeade with Ginny, but that was it.

“The more, the merrier!” said Sirius, getting up from his chair with a tender smile.

“Sure hope you think that, Sirius, ‘cause we might stay for Christmas,” said Mrs Weasley, clenching her jaw.

Sirius chuckled. “If you promise to cook.”

“Of course!” smiled Mrs Weasley, and Ginny giggled in the back.

Breakfast was served, and it was weird eating it before having slept, but nobody seemed to care. It wasn’t as good as Hogwarts’ feasts, but you didn’t mind. The fact that you were actually there — headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, organization you only heard Fred and George mention — made the details unimportant.

“You five should sleep after eating,” said Mrs Weasley, who was up behind the chairs where Fred and George were sitting. “We can visit your dad later.”

Fred seemed about to protest when his mom touched his shoulder softly, but it was a clear warning for her son to not complain, and so, Fred shut.

Harry joined some minutes later, after a long conversation with Sirius Black — who was, to you, an honour to meet. You knew that, although the Ministry was painting him as a villain, he could only be pure of heart, so much Harry spoke well of the man.

“Fred, honey, would you mind sharing your bed with George?” asked Mrs Wealsey when she noticed that her boys had finish eating. “There won’t be an extra bed for y/N, I’m afraid.”

Fred snorted, annoyed, and said: “Mum, George can’t sleep still; you know how much he moves around!”

George didn’t even bother being offended — he knew his twin was telling the truth.

Mrs Weasley puckered her forehead, thinking an alternative through. Ginny couldn’t share the bed with you — the youngest Weasley had already gotten upstairs to her bed and was probably deep sleeping right now. Ron was never pleased with sharing, and she would never bother Harry, who was being a dear just help Arthur Weasley being rescued.

“I suppose you and y/N could share it then,” said Mrs Weasley, noticing that was her only option left. She concluded you and Fred would be too tired to try anything under her nose. She was only half right about that, though. “Take my bed that is bigger in the other room, and I take your single.”

George sighed with the thought of sleeping in the same room with his mom like a toddler.

You and Fred, on the other hand, couldn’t stand to look at each other. Every time you tried, you would feel your cheeks turning red, and you would look away.

However, neither of you complained to Mrs Weasley about it, scared to lose an opportunity to be closer to each other. After helping with the dishes, you both headed, side by side, to the mentioned room.

Fred cleared his throat as you lay with your bellies up, taking extreme care not to touch each other.

“Thanks for earlier, with the music and all. It was a great distraction,” Fred said, turning just enough to see your face.

Oh, how gorgeous she is! he thought.

Your hair loose over the pillow, his big hands rested over his abdomen, your faces blushed with the closeness... 

You turned to face Fred before replying. “My mum used to play me songs in our guitar back through the first war,” you said, biting your inside cheek, suddenly embarrassed fo sharing such a personal memory. 

Fred knew that your father had died in the first war, you two had talked about it before. But it was never something that caused you pain — you were much too young when he died. It was the days when growing up, seeing the neighbours’ kids with their fathers and you having only your mom — that was when it started hurting. And that was when your mom started playing music to calm you.

“I find it quite relaxing,” you said.

“I sure was relaxed with you,” Fred said before blushing, ashamed with his unexpected confession. 

You gulped, unsure of what to say or do. You decided it was best to remain silent because Fred probably felt relaxed with all of his friends.

There was nothing left to be said, and Fred really needed to sleep if he wanted to see his father later, so you returned to your first position — facing the ceiling. You never knew, but, without your eyes staring deep into his, he was finally able to fall asleep.

On the other hand, it took you a couple more minutes to travel to the dreamland. Knowing that Fred was closer than ever before made you feel more awake than if you had slept all day. Of course, that was just a false sensation your subconscious tricked you with — soon, you were sleeping too.

“Come on, love birds! Mum wants us to come now!” yelled a voice, pulling the blankets away from you.

“Be more gentle, George,” advised another voice.

“Come on, you two!” shouted the male voice again.

It toom you a couple of seconds to finally open your eyes and take a glimpse of who owned the voices that were disturbing the most peaceful nap you had ever gotten.

Ginny stared at you with a wan smile while George held in one of his hands the cosy blanket that was once over you. But their faces were hiding something, and it was just when George smirked to you that you decided to sit up.

Fred was thinking of doing the exact same thing as you, but he was having more trouble with it since you were practically all over him.

Yeah, that’s right.

The cosiness and warmness didn’t come from the blanket — it came from Fred Weasley.

He was still laying with his belly up, but over his abdomen, you had arranged yourself, in some sort of embrace or hug. So, obviously, you blushed right away — your whole face redder than the Weasleys’ hair.

Fred was blushing too, but since you had hidden your face over your pillow — the exact one you clearly didn’t use to sleep — you weren’t able to see.

“Get out,” he muttered with grinding teeth. George pretended to be angry and walked away, tossing the blanket over the bed with no caution. Ginny took one last glimpse around before whispering for you two to not be late.

Fred sighed before taking the pillow over your head.

“They’re gone,” he said with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry for... well, wherever was that. I probably am a sleepwalker or something; I swear I didn’t place myself over your chest on purpose,” you said, biting your lip and facing him with hope in your eyes — hope that he would believe you were not a maniac.

Fred wished you had done that on purpose because that had been the most comfortable he had ever felt in a bed.

“Don’t worry about it. Sorry about my siblings,” he said, finally getting up. “I’m gonna see my mum and make sure we’re going to St. Mungo’s too.”

“We?” you echoed the word out loud, but he had already left the room, and so, he didn’t hear.

You were planning on going with the Weasleys, sure, but you didn’t know they wanted you there as well. Well, at least Fred did.

You gave Fred a few minutes to get downstairs before you. When you got there, everybody seemed to be waiting just for you.

“Sorry for not waking you up earlier, dear. You both looked so relaxed,” said Mrs Weasley, stepping towards you. She held you by your shoulders. “I prepared both of you sandwiches, so you can eat faster.”

She let your shoulders go and grabbed one sandwich over the table — the second one was already half-eaten by Fred Weasley in the other corner of the kitchen. You were too embarrassed thinking that even Molly saw you hugging Fred in your sleep to say something other than thank you.

“Your trunks are here too,” the woman mentioned, with a small smile. Fred finished his sandwich, so you hurried to finish yours. “Tonks? Mad-Eye?”

With Mrs Weasley calling, both of the mentioned walked in the kitchen and Ginny rushed to Tonks, hugging her tightly.

“Nymphadora?” you asked, almost choking on the last bite. The short pink hair was the essential clue for you to connect the surname to the person. You just didn’t call Tonks Tonks, it was a childish habit, but it was unforgettable.

“Don’t call me...! Hey, it’s you!” exclaimed Tonks, as soon as Ginny freed her and ran to your side, hugging you. “You grew up, Merlin!”

You let out a hearty laugh while struggling to breath. Tonks finally freed you, but still stayed by your side. You knew each other because you were neighbours for a while, and often your mother alone could not take care of you — Nymphadora always offered (for a sickle a day) to babysit.

If it was up for you and Tonks, you’d have stayed the day talking, but Mrs Weasley kindly reminded there was a place you needed to be. 

The trip to St.Mungo’s was, to say the least, embarrassing. Every time Fred would lock eyes with you, your cheeks would turn red, and it felt like everyone knew how you too slept. Together, tightly, legs intertwine... Yeah, you had to fight yourself to not remember those things.

Thankfully, you and Tonks got a minute to talk when the family walked in with Harry to see Arthur Weasley. She told you everything about her job and how she liked to now be a part of the Order. “Sure Dumbledore will ask you to join when you come of age,” she even mentioned with a nudge of shoulders. 

The Weasleys trooped back into the corridor. Tonks glanced at you, but she already knew you weren’t going to come in, so she went in with Mad-Eye and closed the door behind them. Fred raised his eyebrows towards you — he wasn’t seriously expecting you had something to talk with his father, right? — but then George suggested to listen behind the door, and everybody was distracted for a moment.

After that espionage, Harry Potter started acting odd as ever, but definitely not more than you and Fred. Ginny and George would look from Fred to you, and then they would giggle. Somehow, that was making matters worse.

Back at the headquarters, things still weren’t easy.

“Ginny, would you mind sleeping with y/N?” whispered Mrs Weasley in what she hoped was a tone you wouldn’t hear, but you did. You stepped away as quickly as you had stepped in, and turned around, desperately trying not to overhear that conversation.

So Fred asked to not sleep with you again. That was presumable but still unpleasant. 

Ron asked for your help to decorate the house for Christmas, and you accepted gladly, hoping the task would take your mind out of Fred.

Ron was worried about Harry — he seemed to think whatever Harry heard Mad-Eye talk upset him. You agreed and added that Ron should just give Harry some time, without pushing him.

Ginny joined to help, and as soon as Ron went to the back to get a stair, Ginny rushed to your side and elbowed you.

“So, don’t know if you heard, but I told mum I wouldn’t sleep with you,” she said with a smile.

You almost dropped the ornament in your hand.

“Sorry?”

“So you can sleep with Fred again, duh!” she kept the smile on.

“Hm, Ginny, I’m pretty sure your brother doesn’t want that to happen again,” you said, avoiding to look at her happy face. “He asked your mum to change the place I was sleeping in.”

“What? No, y/N! Where did you get that idea? Mum’s the one trying to part you too,” Ginny laughed at your ridiculousness. “She thinks you two are secretly dating and she can’t let ‘Fred make her a grandma so early’.’’

Your eyes widened as you slowly turned to face Ginny, but first making sure no other Weasley was around.

“Her words, not mine,” added Ginny quickly and she burst into laughter staring at your silly face.

“Good Lord. I hope you corrected her about my relationship with Fred,” you sighed, pressing a hand over your heart. “I completely forgot she had gotten a glimpse at us this morning,” you whispered, just to yourself really.

“Why would I correct her? He wants you, you want him. Just a matter of time ’til she’s right” said Ginny and she started running away from you because the face you made was positively scary.

When decorations were up, and Christmas spirit was finally in the house, it was already time for bed again. Fred and George had gotten upstairs before you because you pretended to be really interested in Mrs Weasley’s knitting. The truth was you didn’t want to face Fred again.

You sighed, giving up in your fight. You should face Fred once and for all. Speak the truth, walk away and sleep in the couch downstairs.

But when you got into the room, and you saw his face, you just froze. He was laying on the bed with his belly up and his eyes closed — for a moment, you thought he was sleeping, but then his breathing wouldn’t be completely unregulated.

“Fred?” your voice was too high, and you ended up scaring him. He jumped up, sitting down immediately. “Sorry,” you muttered, sitting down in front of him.

You both breathed hard. Fred seemed to want to say something, but you would never know because you interrupted his half-open mouth with yours.

You kissed him in a rashed and inexperience way, after all, he didn’t expect that. And, honestly, neither did you.

Fred suspected that either you would ignore him forever and pretend that the nap shared in an embrace never happened or that you would hit him and kick him out of the room. Feeling your lips on his was a more fanciful idea than any he has ever had.

It took Fred a little while to get rid of the shock, but when he realized that you were kissing him because you wanted to, he gave in, pulling you by your waist and sitting you over his lap. He smirked in the middle of the kiss, causing you to let a slight giggle out. Your hands went from his cheekbone to his hair, and you played with it with pleasure.

“If I knew the way to your heart was napping with you, I’d have done it sooner,” Fred whispered, breathing hard when your lips were away from his.

You smiled, “you got to my heart way before you slept with me, Fred Weasley.”

He squeezed your waist, pushing you away just enough so he could see your face. You blushed when your eyes met.

“Good to know that,” he smiled too. “ ‘Cause I’ve been thinking all day that you were ignoring me, that you hated me... ”

“I thought you were ignoring me!”

You two giggled at your stupidy.

“Sorry for kissing you out of nowhere,” you sighed, slowly placing your hands on his shoulders.

“You are welcomed to do it anytime you want,” he said, looking down to your lap still over his.

“Like now?” you smirked too. “Because I feel we lost too much time sleeping today...”

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking exactly the same thing,” he susurrated and smirked, pulling you closer to his chest and kissing you harder than before.

And this time was just perfect.

__

Bonus:

“So how was last night?” Ginny asked as soon as you steeped in the kitchen the next morning.

You could have stayed in bed curled in Fred forever — you sure wanted to— but you knew that if Mrs Weasley had any more reason to believe you and Fred were together, nights in the same bed would be over.

And so, doing the things you did last night would be way harder to achieve.

“What you mean?” you asked, grabbing a mug of hot cocoa.

“Please,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “See that look in my brother’s face? Last time I saw him that happy was when he got a new broom.”

You turned your face insignificantly to see Fred, who was sitting at the end of the table, eating some sort of bread with Geoge right next to him.

You frowned slightly to Ginny, who rolled her eyes more time.

“Good Merlin, I won’t be able to be two meters near you two, will I?”

You giggled and tried to hide your smile with the mug. Fred heard the sound of your laugh and instantly turned to your direction. His eyes wandered your whole face, and he fixed them in your mouth. He licked his lips before smiling and blink, and then he turned to his twin as if he was paying attention to George all along.

When your heart started beating again, the rest of the Weasleys and Sirius Black had gotten to the kitchen too.

“Where’s Harry?” Ginny asked Ron, but he shrugged. Harry was going through his own problems. “Well, anyway, pay up, will you, Ronniekins.”

“What?” he looked at Ginny, “wait, what?” he looked at you. “Couldn’t have waited one more night, could you?”

Ginny smiled when Ron tossed her a sickle.

“You guys placed a bet over Fred and me?” you whispered to the red-haired girl.

“Sure I did, and I won,” Ginny smiled while you rolled your eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, Fred lost. He said you would never like him back.”

Your eyes went from Ginny to Fred across the table, and for a minute while you looked at him, you forgot his entire family was there, and you sighed like a girl in love. Well, that was what you were anyway.

When you and Fred finally got time alone, you gave him a sickle.

“You should never have bet against us,” you said, placing the coin in his hand.

“Never doing that again,” he promised with a soft smile before pulling you close one more kiss.

[luna-rainbow]

meta: implantation for prosthesis

Okay I wrote an entire essay on this and decided no one was going to be interested because it was so technical so I spent hours rewriting it but it turned out to be an essay anyway….

I hope this is helpful for anyone writing fics about Bucky’s time in Hydra cos you really don’t need to think up new torture methods when you consider the medical procedures he had to go through…

The TL;DR version: Bucky's implant doesn't obey the laws of biophysics but neither does Steve's shield; all that matters is they both look cool.

As you can see from this picture, compared to what I referred to in the amputation meta, the amputation level has moved from forearm (transhumeral) to above shoulder (probably forequarter) level.

How was Bucky's arm implanted?

The thing about Bucky's prosthesis and the way it's implanted is we don't have anything close to it in the real world, and there are some practical issues with it.

I dislike anatomy too but we gotta see it to understand, so bear with me.

What's important about this picture? Look at the ball and socket joint. The glenoid cavity i.e. "the socket" is basically a tea plate to the golf “ball” of the humerus - you rock it hard enough and the ball will fall out (e.g. shoulder dislocations). It's held in place by tendons and muscles that are built for mobility rather than durability, which is why rotator cuff tears are so common (and annoyingly debilitating when they do happen). To add to that mobility, the socket is formed by the shoulder blade/scapula, which itself is just a dinner plate sliding across the back of the rib cage, held in place only by a few flaps of muscles. Now look at that flimsy clavicle, then at that tiny point of contact between the clavicle and the sternum - that is the only attachment the shoulder has with the main (axial) skeleton.

What I'm getting at is that the entire human shoulder stays in place by the sheer miracle of opposing tendons and muscles and ligaments. This means at Bucky's level of amputation, all the things that hold the arm onto the body are gone, and just fusing metal components onto what remains is not going to cut it.

But he's still got his pecs, you say. Maybe he's still got his scapula, which means he'll also have his rotator cuffs. Yes, that brings me to the other unrealistic issue about his implant. In real life, we simply don't have the technology to do this - the components we have bond to bone but do not bond to soft tissue, i.e. muscles, fat and skin. Even if you have muscles left you can't attach them in a way that holds the joint on.

Directly attaching metal next to skin, as it appears for Bucky, has its own problems. One of the newest techniques these days is interosseus implants (Source), which inserts a metal shaft into a long bone and attaches the prosthesis at the end. A major drawback is fluid leak and infection because the soft tissue simply does not bond to the metal and form a good seal over/around it, so you essentially have a chronic open wound going all the way through to bone.

In Bucky's case, he doesn't even have any long bones left to even consider this technique. Where are you going to attach an entire arm? The clavicle? The ribs? The flappy scapula? Have you seen how easily these bones snap like legit grannies just have to trip over and they'll crack 8 ribs on the way down.

Of all the ways Bucky was attacked and injured in CACW, this is the one scene that makes me wince every time. That’s what, a 10 meter drop? I know what you’re thinking Bucky - it's gonna look impressive in front of Steve. Well, GOOD F**KING JOB BUCK YOU'VE JUST RIPPED YOUR IMPLANT OUT OF YOUR BONES. On a scale of "freezing yourself in cryo" to "breaking Zemo out of jail" can you STOP being such a self-destructive drama queen for FIVE minutes and—

Okay, but Bucky's arm is canon. Can it theoretically work if we take into account futuristic technology and super soldier serum?

So let's talk about what it needs to achieve: - Very strong attachment to axial skeleton WITHOUT use of muscles/tendons - Full range of motion as a normal human arm - Ability to connect to neural supply (won't go into detail in this post)

Let's pretend the metal-skin interface won't be a major issue because of better skin healing/better materials.

Even with the serum's healing/durability, the implant still needs a stronger attachment than a single clavicle. One (imaginary) possibility is having most of his left ribs and clavicle filled by (not replaced by) implants with attachment sites, to which the metal arm actually attaches. This distributes the loading forces more evenly throughout his thorax. Remember though the weak point is always at connection points, and at high enough impacts something will give, and if it's not his bones it'll be the metal work, and that will still hurt.

That leaves the issue of scapular movements. I just want you to take a moment to appreciate the many directions this bone flap spins in. It’s vital in positioning the shoulder relative to the rib cage, and it’s every anatomy student’s nightmare (or dream, I guess, depending on which end of the spectrum you fall).

Two (imaginary) possibilities: this is built into the prosthesis - ie the scapula is removed and jointed components pull the shoulder across the rib cage - this method means more bone/muscle have to be removed. The second is if they develop technology to attach muscle to metal implant, and I almost don’t want to think about that possibility because the amount of experimentation that would take, the amount of muscle tears and tendon rupture and repeat surgical procedures and pain is just horrific to consider.

CBB reading all that, can you just tell me what it practically means for Bucky?

He would have to: - Undergo multiple revisions to reach his current level of amputation: this could be from unsalvageable implant failures or injuries forcing them to go up higher (amputate more) for attachment points. - Undergo multiple rounds of experimental implant techniques: failures in those early decades are common due to the materials used and the immature techniques. Metal shattering within bone or snapping outside of bone can happen especially at the huge forces he puts the arm through. For perspective, people are advised against running after a hip replacement because that counts as "high impact" ARE YOU LISTENING TO THIS BUCKY. - Complications? Pain, infection (painful), bleeding (painful), nerve damage (painful), fractures (painful), implants breaking (painful), rejection of implant material (painful), reaction to sediments produced by crappy implant material (painful). I don't know if you see a common theme or... - After each surgery there will be a necessary healing time (even for a super soldier) where he will be vulnerable while the bone heals.

All of this suggests - and not to minimise what Isaiah was able to do single-handedly - that the early Winter Soldier was not the sleek machine that Steve fought, and was likely far more prone to injury and damage.

And finally, as a heartfelt thank you for getting this far, someone pointed out that Bucky cradles his metal hand for comfort. That itself suggests that despite the amount of pain that he inevitably endured to get a functioning prosthesis - his life was infinitely worse without it.