#does this disregard canon? yeah. do i care? fuck no

[drunken-devotion]

Combeferre who stays up during the night of the barricade, Combeferre who listens to all his friends as they worry, Combeferre who holds them close in attempts to protect them as they die

[h8ani]

Sasuke Uchiha x Reader

Word Count - 4k

Warnings - smut, angry sex, public sex, fear of getting caught, hair pulling, angst, slight paranoia, kinda non-canon structures (its been a long time since i watched naruto tbh so disregard the village not being exactly how the anime is), oral - male receiving, face fucking, gagging, degradation, penetrative sex, fem!reader, choking, reader is described to be wearing a dress in this chapter, there’s a voyeur

A/N - Just a reminder that if you have joined my taglist and change your username please let me know! If you haven't joined I put the link down below :) But holy hell you guys I can't believe I actually finished this after almost 5 months in my drafts, but I hope you enjoy it!

taglist! - @bloodsiren @blackfire2013 @benkeibear @suyacho @kodzukein

join my taglist → here

Part One → Part Two → Part Three → Part Four

It’s been a few days since the last time Sasuke was over. You’re used to the silence in between his visits; it’s become second nature to go days, even weeks, without seeing him, and the radio silence between each time he visits has become more common than the last. 

It doesn’t bother you. It does. You could really care less. Sasuke has been the only thing that’s been on your mind. You absolutely hate him. You feel…conflicted.

~~

Limbs tangled with one another, all you could hear were the heavy breaths that escaped both of your lips, your body rising and falling every time Sasuke took in a deep breath as you laid on top of him, his hands dancing along the skin of your back so featherlight it almost tickled. 

Neither of you had uttered a word, just basking in the feeling of touching the other’s skin; the warmth radiating off each other’s body heat brought a sense of familiarity that you couldn’t quite pinpoint just why you felt most comfortable in his arms. You mentally shook the thought away; there was no need to focus on that. Your mind had already cleared up from the sex fog he had put you under and had started to race with a million different things that you wanted to bring up to him. Why did he do what he did? When was he going to leave again?��He’s going to leave right away, don’t be stupid. When were you going to see him again? Why did he leave in the first place? You wanted to bring up so much, but you couldn’t brush off this feeling that something was about to happen, as if the rainstorm you were caught up in earlier today was a warning of a disaster brewing and about to happen. 

“What’s wrong,” Sasuke spoke up, his words sounding more like a statement than a question. His eyes were trained on you, making your stomach involuntarily tighten with their intensity. He had been focusing on the multitude of expressions that had graced your face within the last minute; you were completely oblivious to his stare; somehow, he wanted to blame the sex for your lack of inattentiveness and not the fact that you may feel safe around him, no it couldn’t be that. Being distracted has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you being incompetent. Yeah, that’s it.  

Your eyes met his, and before he knew it, your eyes lit up, a small smile appeared, and a simple shake of the head erased any form of contemplation he had previously seen. “Nothing.” You quickly say, “Just thinking.” Bullshit

“About what?” He interjects, his hands that were once dancing lightly across your back were now holding your hips, gripping ever so slightly. 

“Just thinking, random thoughts, it doesn’t matter.” 

“If it doesn’t matter, then you can tell me.”

Huffing a sigh, you stare back at him, his emotionless pools of black not letting you get a read on him, yours: uncertainty. “You won’t answer me even if I ask.”

He raises and sits up, causing you to reposition yourself in an upright position as well; your eyes stay trained on him as his stare hardens, almost as if what you just said offended him somehow. His eyes glance into yours as if he needs to be wary now. “I’m not answering anything about why I’m back in the village or why I left.” He blurts out quickly, a scoff following soon after. “You know you can’t say anything about seeing me. Don’t go blabbing about it to any of your little friends, or I won’t be coming back.” His stare solidifies as your jaw drops ever so slightly; the hardened look he’s giving you makes your chest tighten, and your body rises in temperature. 

Sasuke sees your expression fall ever so slightly before you catch yourself and, in turn, sends the signature scowl he’s grown accustomed to back in his direction. Your eyes narrow while you sit up straighter, the discarded sheet on the bed now pulled tightly to your chest, and he curses at the way that made his stomach clench. He doesn’t care if you’re mad at him, but he can’t lie and say he didn’t want to ruin your two’s good momentum today. The sex was great, and he wanted to leave on what would be considered a good note for the both of you.

“I think you should go,” you say simply. You avert your glare and decide to stare at the wall instead, avoiding his eyes. “You know where the door is.” Ouch.

He rubs his face and sighs. “Look, you don’t get-”

“I don’t care, Sasuke. Like I said, it didn’t matter. So why don’t you just leave? I never saw you, and I’m not going to tell any of my “little friends.” 

You sigh and throw the blankets off you, quickly grabbing your clothes and slamming your bathroom door shut. 

Your throat tightened from the moment you got up, wanting to get away from him from the very moment he opened his stupid mouth. You take a slow, deep breath and let it out; the tightness in your throat drops to your stomach. Why would he even snap like that? What gives him the right to think he could speak like that to you? You miff another sigh out as the conflict in you bubbles up even more with the thoughts running rampant. How stupid could you be for thinking he actually could’ve been somewhat of a nice human being after today?

Your thoughts were quickly silenced by the sound of your front door opening and closing, the door shutting louder than necessary. Fucking asshole.

~~

You shake your head to rid yourself of your thoughts as you look at yourself in the mirror, you fix your hair and check over your outfit in the mirror, quickly doing a little 360 in your mirror. Everyone had decided that tonight was a good night to hang out and have some drinks as no one had any missions for tomorrow, so there was no need to worry about any impending hangovers. 

You changed into a nice dress that fell mid-thigh; it was form-fitting and casual enough that you didn’t overdress or underdress with it. You pulled your hair into a high ponytail and just enough makeup to cover any eye bags that were more prominent than usual, no less from your sleepless nights thinking about he-who-shall-not-be-named-or-thought-of. You looked yourself over in the mirror and smiled. You felt pretty tonight, and it was nice not constantly to be in work mode for once.

The stressors from work and the expectations you always got from everyone took a toll on your body more than you would have liked. You were expected to never make any mistakes and always be three steps ahead, and it was simply a lot. Was it fair? Probably not, but it was also what you got for being a perfectionist at such a young age. You gave everyone expectations where you could only rise instead of fall. If you fell, everyone would know, and you just couldn’t have that. 

You leave your apartment and make your way down to meet your friends. The air had a slight chill to it as the sun was finally setting, but something along with the chill was bothering you. You couldn’t brush off the feeling that someone was watching you. 

Your feet skid to a halt as you spin, eyes cascading along the rooftops of the buildings around you. Your breathing picks up as your heart begins beating, and you feel every thump as your anxiety spikes. You internally curse yourself for being so stupid as not to even bring a single shuriken with you. For god’s sake, you could’ve popped one in your purse just for safekeeping. The anxiety you feel is derived from being paranoid, and you have to remind yourself no one is watching you and that it’s just your own mind playing tricks on you. You take a deep breath as you hear a name call out to you; turning back around, you see Shikamaru and Choji waving you over. You speed walk over to them, swallowing down the feeling of someone’s eyes on you. Was Sasuke here again? You wouldn’t expect him to be over so soon after the fight you two had just days ago. He’s never over this soon after he leaves anyway. Usually, it takes weeks for him to come over, sometimes even months. Although his eyes being the ones you’ve felt had to have been it, there’s no other explanation.

~~

The buzz of the alcohol was finally settling in; once you got inside, you decided you needed a tiny little shot to calm your nerves and anxieties, then another once all your friends arrived and wanted to take a group shot, and now here you are ordering your third. You’re a lightweight, no shock about that, and feeling a bit dazed as you stare at the shot of alcohol sitting in front of you. You’re so zoned out, not even realizing the presence of someone taking the seat next to you at the bar table.

“You look nice tonight.” A familiar voice catches your ear, and you turn, seeing Shikamaru next to you. A sudden rush of heat hits you as you stare back at him. “Oh, T-Thank you.” You stutter out and mentally smack yourself. You divert your attention back to your shot glass, suddenly remembering how intriguing it was just two seconds ago. 

Suddenly, hearing the sound of glass scraping against the bar table, you look up and see a similar shot in Shikamaru’s hand. “Cheers?” He holds up his shot glass, waiting for you to do the same. A small chuckle leaves you as you hold yours up and clink your glass with his. “Cheers.” 

You knock back the shot, grimacing over the familiar burn down your throat and the fuzzy feeling deep in your stomach. You sigh and slump back against your seat as you look at Shikamaru. “You look nice too, I think I forgot to compliment you back.” 

He chuckles, “Thanks, I didn’t really know what to wear. I wanted to come in sweats and a hoodie, but Ino just about had a conniption when I mentioned that.”

“Oh, don’t lie, you didn’t even want to come to this.”

“And you did?”

“Well, you got me there, didn’t you?” 

Laughter fills the air around you two as you continue to talk about past missions, the latest drama you’ve heard around the village, and even as mundane as the midnight snacks you two have had, you were actually…enjoying yourself; the thought of Sasuke had been dissipated like the rain that had come and gone from the prior days. Listening to Shikamaru talk was something you found yourself rather enjoying. Still, maybe that’s just the alcohol in your veins talking. Yeah, that was definitely it. “So, what’s new with you?” Shikamaru asks, his eyes finding yours, and the sudden tightness is once again back, whether that being because the only thing that seems to be ‘new’ in your life was Sasuke and every little defiling and obscene moment between you two replayed again in your head or because you actually might be liking the attention Shikamaru is giving you the world will never know. 

“Ah, you know. Lots of training, lots of missions, lots of-”

“Staying in your apartment all day and night?”

You quirk an eyebrow up at him, lips slowly following suit. “Shikamaru Nara, are you stalking me?” An indiscernible giggle leaves your lips, which shocks not only you but also him. You can see the pink rising to his cheeks at your minor faux accusation; his eyes widen, and his hands immediately come up to defend himself. “No, I just hear Ino constantly nagging at me to hang out with her, that’s how I know. I don’t stand out of your window or anything like that. Do you know how much time and energy that takes? Do you know-”

“Shikamaru?” 

“What?”

“I was joking.”

“Oh.”

“You know, for someone with an IQ higher than a tree, you’re kinda dumb.”

“You know what…Shut up.”

~~

The air around you as you step outside drops a few degrees, causing you to shiver despite the multiple shots you had earlier. Glancing around, you notice how barren the pathways are and how barren the town seems. You glance back over your shoulder to see that Shikamaru is already on his way with his teammates, all drunk themselves, as you see them stumbling against each other. 

Your apartment isn’t far from where you are, so you, in turn, make your way down the path. Bad idea. The more you walk, the more you regret that last shot you took and every single life choice you seem to have made tonight because the line you had been walking in had slowly turned into a wave, making you plant your hand on the building beside you. “Just a little more, and I’m almost home.” You blow out a sigh before taking another step forward. Looking up, your body freezes as you see a rock fly past you and fall to the floor to your right. Your senses come to realize that someone is near as you stare at the rock. The alcohol has slowed your reflexes because you’re yanked backward, a scream bubbling up in your throat. Still, before you can release it, a hand is clasped over your mouth, and you get dragged in between the two buildings down the small alleyway.

You begin kicking back and screaming into the hand, fighting as you’re dragged back further into the small space between the two buildings, your front pressed against the wall and the chills finding their way back up your spine once you hear his voice. “How stupid could you be?” His voice is loud in your ear, hand still firm against your mouth, not allowing you to utter a word. “Walking home drunk is one thing, but what the fuck are you wearing?” He seethes. Your dress is already riding up higher on your thighs, just below your ass, due to being pressed between the wall and the man himself. It took all of one big gust of wind to blow it up or one perverted old man to ‘drop’ something of his to catch a look up your dress. The anger that welled up in his chest was undeniable as he pushed off of you and spun you around to slam you harder into the wall itself. Your eyes caught him scanning over you; his already dark eyes seemed even darker tonight. The dress you wore hugged every inch of you perfectly, and it drove him madder seeing it hiked up higher than intended, all thanks to him. One more inch, and he could see the little lace thong he knew you were wearing. He finds your eyes and tsks at the dumbfounded look you gave him; just how stupid were you? 

“Sasuke-”

“Shut up and get on your knees.” He cuts you off, hands gripping your arms and tugging you down until you plop down on your knees. The dirt underneath you digs uncomfortably into your skin. You look up, pupils dilated as you stare up at the ravenette. “Unless you want us to be caught, I suggest you not utter a single noise.” Without warning, Sasuke pushes two fingers past your lips and into your mouth, pumping the digits like they were his cock until they were soaked with your own spit. “I suggest you act right, given your circumstances.” He speaks, and your eyes narrow up at him; the urge to clamp your teeth on his fingers threatens to come to fruition, but you can’t ignore the subtle throb in between your legs. “Suck.” He says while pushing his fingers deeper and tugging his pants down with his other hand, pulling down the material along with his underwear, allowing his cock to spring out. You could feel yourself salivate just looking at him, wanting to trade his fingers for his cock against your better judgment. He presses his fingers down harder against your tongue, causing you to gag and choke on saliva; you can hear the snicker that comes from him as he watches you trying to quieten your coughing spout. 

His hand threads into your hair, messing up your almost perfect ponytail, the grip burning your scalp as he pulls you forward, knees dragging against the ground while the tip of his cock presses against your wet lips, his precum smearing across them in an almost erotic way that Sasuke doesn’t think he could last by just looking at you. 

You drop your jaw open while he pushes his cock past your lips, enveloping himself in the warmth that is your mouth. The grip on your hair grants you nothing but pain as his hips begin to move to their own rhythm, his cock hitting farther back than the last thrust. You try your best to breathe through your nose as he fucks your face to his liking; maybe if your mind weren’t so focused on Sasuke being here, cock down your throat and his eyes watching you so meticulously, you’d have the nerve to push back, make him slow down, maybe even explain why he knew you were out with your friends in the first place and not at home. 

Tugging you even tighter, Sasuke pushes your head until your nose is brushing against his stomach; your throat tightens as he effectively pushes each inch into your throat. “You feel me? Do you think that Shikamaru could ever stretch your throat out like I do? He might as well try something with you seeing how fucking drunk you were tonight.” His hips rock forward until his dick hits further back into your throat. You choke around him, drool effectually spilling past your lips and down your chin. 

Eyes squeezing shut, you sputter another cough, which turns into a gag around his length. A disapproving noise is heard from him as he pulls away, allowing you to take in deep breaths. As you open your eyes, you see him crouched down in front of you, a look one can only describe as displeasure. “How stupid could you be?” he says, slightly shaking his head before he speaks again. You’re supposed to be better than them.” 

“Better than-”

Crack!

“Naruto! You idiot!” You gasp as you hear the rest of your friends walking down and getting closer to the alleyway you were in. They must’ve just now left the bar you all were at; this isn’t good; you need to leave; they can’t see you like this. You pull farther away from Sasuke as you see them pass the opening between the two buildings, all of them stumbling and unknowingly passing you as they walk. 

Another tsk leaves his mouth as he shoves you forward; you catch yourself on your hands while grimacing at the sting that travels through the skin of your knees. You feel his hands positioning himself behind you, all while pushing your dress up to your hips and pulling your thong to the side. Suddenly feeling every bit of alcohol drain from your system, you become hyper-aware of what is really happening; you jolt forward, and before you can spin around to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, you’re yanked back by your hair, back arching to the point where you’re staring straight into his eyes. “Make sure to be quiet, or else everyone is going to see how much you love taking my cock.” A deep chuckle vibrates through him. “What would they think when seeing you on all fours in an alley? Perfect little (y/n) crying from how good my cock makes her feel; how would you ever live that down? You think Shikamaru would ever give you the slightest bit of attention after that?” 

Letting go of your hair, a knee between your thighs pushed them further apart while you balanced yourself on your hands. The itching feeling that someone could see or be watching from a distance burns brighter than the pain in your knees. The swollen tip of his cock prods your already glistening entrance; you bite down on your lip to stop any form of a whine from slipping out. You swallow down the nerves as his hand leaves your hair to slip around your throat; the silent plea that he wouldn’t make this difficult left the moment his hips slammed into yours, his hand tightening on your throat, restraining the scream that threatened to bubble out. He gave you no time to adjust, his hand leaving your throat and falling to your waist, fingers digging into your flesh so tight as he slammed into you that you knew bruises would be there by morning. 

You can’t help but glance up, fearing that any of your friends could leave the bar at any time and pass by, seeing you in the most compromising position you feel like you’ve been in. The subtle feeling that there’s a pair of eyes on the two of you grows larger while you scan around. No one has passed by the entrance, and this feeling could only be explained by you being scared of getting caught. 

Sasuke’s breathy grunts found your ears, and a pang of alarm shot right through you as he was the one making noise. The subtle sound of skin slapping skin makes you even more fearful. The coil in your stomach is already winding tight; the quieter you have to become, the more your pussy grips him. You clench around him, pussy squeezing for dear life. Your nails dig into the ground beneath you, knuckles turning white. 

“Oh, God…” You pant, dropping your head down between your shoulders. The sounds of everyone’s voices can be heard in the distance, and you try desperately to focus on anything other than the impending orgasm that’s slowly building up. 

Sasuke shifts, bringing his hand in between your legs and fingers quickly to find your clit, rubbing quick little circles. You bite down hard on your lip, the silvery taste of metallic dancing on your tongue from allowing the moan that threatened to escape. No, You won’t give him the satisfaction of making you cum, especially this fast. You grab his hand to stop his fingers and feel his hand that was once placed on your waist slide across your skin and reach back up to your throat, drawing your back flush to his chest, knees digging deeper into the gravel on the ground and seemingly reaching deeper within you, a desperate whine left your lips as your eyes faintly rolled back. “Stop me from making you cum, and I swear to god, you’re going to regret it.” He growls while tightening his grip on your throat and bringing his other hand back to your clit. His hips snapped into you even deeper while he assaulted your clit. You struggle to gasp as the coil in you snaps; your body shakes as you lean back into him more, pushing him even deeper that you swear you see stars. You spasmed as you dug your nails into the hand that held your throat while he continued to pound into you. 

He was chasing his own release, and the way he felt like you two would be caught at any moment spurred him on even more. He knew tonight was a lot, even on his standards of fucking you, but the way your pussy was fluttering around him, the deeper he got, and the rougher he became, he couldn’t stop. Your walls clenched around him, climax dragging out as your pleasure was heightened as he fucked into you; your name tumbled off of his lips before he bit into your shoulder, muffling the sinful moan he released as he came. You both fell forward, barely catching yourselves before hitting the ground, with heavy breaths syncing with one another while you catch your wit on what you two just did. 

The feeling of someone watching you never did go away. 

The angry pair of eyes attached to the redhead at the back end of the alleyway never left you two, either. 

network: @enchantedforest-network

[joejhang]

neil doesn't have a martyr complex

i'm back !!! with another essay about neil josten and how grossly mischaracterised he is by the fandom. i went into this a little bit in my previous essay but would u look at that i have more to say. what else is fucking new. anyway spoilers ahead continue at ur own risk.

a martyr complex is a recognised psychological pattern. it's marked by self-sacrifice and service to others at your own expense. signs of martyr complex include: always needing to be the hero, a lack of self-care, doing too much, having unrealistic values, and doing everything themselves.

above is the google definition of a martyr complex and signs and symptoms of it. i'm now gonna deep dive into why neil does not have a martyr complex and i actually think he doesn't even have sacrificial lamb tendencies like this fandom seems to think.

for the majority of the series, neil literally is the exact opposite of a martyr. i've said it already, but the whole premise of aftg is literally neil staying at psu despite the danger to himself and to others. he is fully and completely aware that him staying at psu and the foxhole court puts himself in the spotlight, allowing his father's people to find him more easily, and also puts all the foxes in danger simply by existing in proximity. he knows that no matter what he says, his father's people (by the time they catch up to him) will want to be 100% certain that no one knows about the butcher of baltimore and the sort of work he does, and they probably wouldn't just take neil's word for it. neil is super realistic and pragmatic and he probably knew that there was a high chance of some or all of the foxes getting killed by his father's people and because of him. despite that, he was willing to take the risk. was it selfish? yeah. and it's a big part of his character arc that he actually finds himself caring enough about the foxes to put himself in danger for them. nevertheless, neil does stay with the foxes out of courage and determination, but a good amount of selfishness also factored into that decision. and he knew it from the beginning. he knew that his actions had repercussions on the foxes, and he knew what sort of business he was dragging them into the whole time, and while he was sorry it fell back on them, he is never sorry for doing what he does (he literally says almost exactly that in canon). despite him saying he doesn't want to gamble with the foxes' lives at the end of tfc, literally everything he does in the next couple of books is a direct contradiction to that. most everything neil does is something of a calculated risk. sometimes it's not even calculated it's just instinctive. normalise having unreliable main characters who can be hypocritical sometimes.

his agreement to go to evermore over christmas wasn't an act of self-sacrifice or martyrdom. andrew likes to describe neil as a martyr but i think we as readers take that too much at face value. andrew says a lot of stuff about neil that we as readers can safely disregard. neil himself doesn't think he's that selfless and honestly i think he's right. his decision to go to evermore over the break was undoubtedly for andrew and to protect him, but i don't think that's really "self-sacrifice". he knew he was gonna have a terrible time but he also knew there was no way r*ko would kill him, not when they were in the messy middlegame of it all. nora specifically says that kevin notes how out of character it was for neil to throw away all of those carefully cultivated survival instincts and in-built fear like that, and he's right. it is out of character. it's a demonstration of neil's inherent desire to be a good person and also his strong moral compass and priorities. r*ko threatened andrew and told neil specifically what would happen to andrew if neil didn't go along, and neil's conscience wasn't gonna let him just walk away like that. especially bc he knew he'd make it out alive, there was really no reason neil would refuse. he was there to protect andrew the same way andrew is willing to protect all his loved ones. it wasn't an act of martyrdom, it was an act of, dare i say, love? kevin clocks neil's feelings specifically because of this decision, and i think it's critical to understand that he doesn't go to evermore out of a need to play the hero or some twisted desire to shoulder other people's burdens, he goes to evermore because he loves and cares about andrew, and also just because inherently there was no way he could sit idle while a threat like that was passed about someone he cared about so much (and also someone who'd protected him that much).

neil's character arc isn't about learning selflessness. this might honestly be a hot take, but i stand firm that neil's character arc is a lot more about courage and learning to care for people than it is self-sacrifice and selflessness. neil says "i realised i didn't want to be that person anymore, i want to go back for you". this isn't actually him saying: "i want to die for you, i would die for you, i would sacrifice myself for you" this is him saying: "i would willingly put myself in danger for you, and for me. i don't want to be someone who ducks and runs and. i don't want to be a coward anymore. i want to go back for you and fight for you because i care about you enough to." for someone who's spent his whole life leaving a bloody trail of bodies behind, this is a pretty reasonable assumption to make, that his arc would be learning how to let people in and learning to care about other people. does neil have a penchant for putting himself in danger willingly for other people? yeah. but let's go a little deeper into that; neil doesn't do it out of a desire to play the hero, a sense of self-service or a lack of self-worth or self-care. he does it because he cares about them. read the series back and realise neil isn't at all averse to being in dangerous situations or even getting into risky ones, but he is very averse to getting attached to and caring about other people. he was raised with a mentality of things being temporary, of cutting his losses and never trusting or caring about anyone except himself. aftg is about him unlearning that, learning to let people in, to trust and care about people, and his actions demonstrate that.

his decision to not run in baltimore was never about sacrificing himself. he was smart enough to know it was too late to run, and also the fact that running would be exactly the opposite of the person he's grown over the course of the series to become. he lets himself get kidnapped because he knows this was coming, and he cares about the foxes and knows they will come to less harm if he goes quietly (see above). his decision to let his father's people take him is very very in-character and it's also just completely reasonable. he knew this was coming and by then he knows that if he was ever gonna run he should've done it months earlier. he decided to stick around and knew this would be the consequences, and i honestly think he's come to terms with it by then. it wasn't a fleeting moment of sacrificing himself for other people, it was just him living out the consequences of his decisions. there was nothing for him to do; he's seen this coming already.

neil's sense of self worth is pretty strong. i already bitched about this to no end in my other essay so i won't go into it rn but just know: neil isn't the jittery, insecure and uncertain softboy the fandom makes him out to be. he's realistic and confident about his and other people's abilities and he harbours zero delusions about what he can and can't do. he also has no trouble standing up for himself. he specifically lets kevin and the cousins treat him like shit in the beginning of tfc bc he doesn't want them to know how much of an instigator he is and we all saw how well that went down. any time after that that anyone tries to have a go at him he literally just tears them a new one and knocks them down a peg and he does it with ease. neil is not a doormat he is not a pushover he doesn't need anyone's help protecting or standing up for him. fucking hell.

GO READ MY OTHER ESSAY ABOUT FANON VS CANON NEIL !!! https://www.tumblr.com/joejhang/765491788140167168/fanon-neil-vs-canon-neil?source=share

[mamawasatesttube]

okay, i'm going to spam today. mmm damian, jon (as he is in OUR minds), aaaaaaaand. lois.

hell YEAH lets go!! damian first:

Headcanon A:  realistic

he goes to veterinary school. something something not either of his parent's legacies but something of his own that still feels like it's honoring them in its own way (medicine-adjacent. hands to help heal rather than harm. you get it)

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

he pretends not to know english that well in order to make jon explain the "deez nuts" joke he just made. jon is mad about it because he KNOWS damian knows english perfectly well enough to get deez nutted, but damian refuses to drop the pretense until jon glares at him and explains the joke. damian thinks he's hilarious. and he is.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

man this isn't even hc really but do you ever think about the way he is just a little guy who never wants to hurt anyone or anything but he was born into a cycle of violence he never asked for. before he was ever old enough to understand it, there was blood on his hands. it's a guilt he'll always carry. i think he and cass should bond over this btw

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

i dont know what the fuck canon is doing over there at this point but its important to me that he and talia love each other. there can be complexity and nuance to it but he loves his mom. dc shut up and listen okay they love each other!!!!

and now jon (as he SHOULD be):

Headcanon A:  realistic

he grows up with two central struggles: a) the classic mixed kid agonies, and b) the fact that he lives with immense pressure between both of his parents legacies that he can't escape. as a hero, he's superman's son. as a civilian, he's lois lane's son. everyone compares him to his parents, and so does he.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

his puppy eyes are so strong he's literally charmed the shirt off kon's back before. ("hey, kon, i'm packing for that camping trip with my friends this weekend, can i borrow your red--oh... you're wearing it. okay... never mind... 🥺👉👈 unless? 🥺🥺🥺") (kon, actively pulling off his shirt: "YOU ARE A HORRIBLE LITTLE MANIPULATIVE GREMLIN AND I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT.")

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

well now im just thinking of that time you were like haha what if i write a fic where lex luthor kills jon in front of kon. i don't think i can top that. you motherfucker.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

no age-up bullshit. instead he exists in our beautiful postcrisis mishmash sandbox. he's like 4 when kon hatches (unless he isn't because timelines? what are those <3) and he is simply kon's beautiful little baby brother who has him wrapped around his little finger from day one.

AND NOW LOIS!!!

Headcanon A:  realistic

she's the breadwinner for the family. clark works from home/is a stay-at-home dad while jon is little. they have to figure it out a bit whenever superman is needed, but they make it work.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

the first time she visited the kent farm, she stepped in a cow patty and clark laughed his ass off at her, so lois took off the shit-covered shoe and threw it at him.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

having to take care of baby jon during the month clark was dead/"dead" while watching everything go down in reign of the supermen is probably what she would say is the hardest thing she's ever had to do.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

i need her to take tim under her wing for a little while. she sees in him a kindred spirit: a do-gooder, incredibly nosy little fuck. she can enable all of his snooping and sneaky tendencies. she'll ruffle his hair and generally regard him like a weird kitten kon found in the gutter one day and brought home. they go on at least one (mis)adventure.

[aoki553]

i like makoto too but its... interesting, to say the least, that you feel the need to explain away and justify his actions and treatment of his sister instead of just... discussing them or explaining how you think he is mentally and/or how he can make up for his actions... regardless of his theoretical mental illness and trauma, hes STILL responsible for his own actions, and his sister never deserved to be treated that way.

long post ahead sorry about it

eh i'm trying my best to not justify him. i've just been so attached to the character and he means a lot to me so him being disregarded as a creepy siscon just bothers me yk? and i made my own posts and analysis of his mental illness i suspected... i just try to not correct or confront people about it whenver they do talk about him. that scares me lol

the thing is... he can't make up for his actions? he's a comedic relief siscon character that doesn't get any depth nor character development throughout the series. what could he possibly do to redeem himself without us having to write fanfiction about it? yes, i like to imagine him being a better brother, getting help for his disorder and issues. but that's just my interpretation of a flawed and underwritten character. and a lot of it is influenced by makokuu. but canon doesn't help much here.

he's not great, but he would've had more redeeming qualities if he wasn't a one joke character. i can't really do much about it but make up my own scenarios and stories on how he could be a good brother while acknowledging he's not a great person.

kokomi doesn't deserve to be stalked and makoto being so jealous and protective of her in his disturbed ways. i agree. but some people make him out to be some sort of sexual abuser in this scenario, which he isnt. we see domestic teruhashi siblings only what 3 times? maybe 2 more if we count them going to the movies together and on christmas... id love to see more scenarios of them just being siblings. but no. most of the scenes with him were written to be an exaggerated siscon trope. to be funny...

yes he is responsible for his actions, but he does need help. the help everyone is aware he shouldve gotten long ago before his obsession morphed his perception of whats acceptable for him to do to someone he loves and cares about. but what can we do about it when we never get to see him get better?

but at the same time i simply cannot think of him as the fanon "GUYS HE WANTS TO DO DIRTY STUFF TO HER KILL THAT PERVERT" anymore. despite his nonexisting depth, im doing my best to explore his character as much as i can.

😔 yeah, i apologize for rambling or getting defensive whenever someone gives an opinion on that one boy i have an unhealthy attachment to.

i'm likely this way due to being harassed before back when i had to pretend like i only like a purified version of makoto to not have my safety threatened. i take this stuff too personally sometimes and feel genuinely threatened, apologies. a doxxing attempt over an anime boy and opinions can fuck someone up for years yk? :(

i do love this character dearly and i know i'm getting enough weird looks in the fandom for it, its even worse when my autistic ass can't explain themselves properly, my bad..

hope this long rambling session cleared some stuff up, heres a wholesome terusibs moment <3

[curiouschaosstarlight]

Bounced back and forth, think I'll just make this post-

(Warning: Under the read more, if tumblr keeps the read more intact, is me, an aromantic/aegofictosexual person ramble-ranting about aroaceness in fandom. You're free to scroll past if you wish, or to disagree with me on whatever takes for whatever reason, this is just my one opinion on something I consider to be a big pet peeve of mine.)

(If you read this and go "but I don't do that!", then I trust you, and you're not the kind of person I'm talking about. I'm moreso referring to some things I've personally either witnessed or experienced in previous fandoms, and nobody this applies to will actually see this post unless it, like, gets a bajillion notes...um, hopefully.)

It is so. fricking. frustrating. having my only possible representation in media be like...[that one character] from DR. You know. the otaku or "geek" that's portrayed to be unattractive, "gross", and "weird", and will eventually express sexual attraction to "3D" people, because their attraction to and obsession with 2D was never a sexuality, but intended to be some creepy, incomprehensible thing, and a way to demonstrate their shortcomings and inability to actually court someone.

Characters who actually match my sexuality and experience will never exist unless I make them with my own hands, because both allos and other aces consider me "not ace enough".

This honestly plays a big part in why I'm really touchy about aroace headcanons; because often times they're blatantly used to say people aren't allowed to ship [character a] with [character b] -- and the person making the headcanon is usually 100000% fine with [character a] being put in a gay ship, but will loudly complain if they see them featured in the (usually het, usually canonically teased) first ship. Because it was never about actually writing an aroace character, it was about reframing "ewwww you like THAT ship?? gross uxu what's wrong with you??" into "uhhhmmmm but that character's aroace-coded" "sorry, I can't see them as anything other than aroace" (yeah, I didn't ask? Everyone else gets to talk about THEIR ships with that character and you enthusiastically support them...) And it's like... I feel like these types of headcanons specifically are always presented like, inherently, I'm totally, obviously going to agree with them, and if I don't, then clearly I'm just not aroace. (I wish that was more of a dramatization, but I had someone who I previously told my seuxality to go "oh. well. I'm asexual, so I see this character as aroace-coded, (and I'm right)" <- not outright said but very, very heavily implied, especially because they continuously insisted the character was "canonically aroace-coded", and I just had to sit there like... "...okay, but I'm aroace. (and I think saying that about a clearly het-intended character that's constantly being flirted and canonically shipped in extra side materials with is kinda hurtful)" <- I didn't say that part)

And the fact that no one respects if a character is canonically het or bi kind of plays into why I don't care when a character is canonically gay or ace. If everyone's sexuality is just "gay (MAYBE ace!!!)" or "okay but have you CONSIDERED they might be bi??? (stop putting them in het ships >:((( )" only when it's convenient, then why should I care for my downtime? It doesn't change canon. And I don't feel represented by people's on-the-whim, flimsy-as-fuck headcanons.

But it does still piss me off when people take a reboot or remake or continuation and flagrantly disregard a character's canon sexuality.

And it's upsetting that aroace characters 1. aren't really a thing for the most part, and 2. get written over when they are a thing.

I imagine that when I finally manage to finish one of my stories or games and, y'know, all of my characters are bi/pan/demi because that's what I tend to write...that's probably just gonna get changed to be "whoops everyone's gay lol" by the fandom, and I've already come to terms with that. (Well, by the part of the fandom that isn't populated by "ugh, everything is so WOKE now!" assholes, I'm just gonna pretend they won't even show up because they aren't worth it.) But then, it's also like...if someone officially continued or adapted my properties, and they changed my characters to be all straight or maybe one character gets to be kinda-sorta gay or something, I. I would definitely lose my shit.

-vague gestures-

I don't really know where I'm going with this, I just wanted to say my whole piece without having to worry about being accused of derailing/not listening to a post-

But basically if you're outraged whenever a gay character's sexuality is changed for any reason in any context, I better hear you be that upset about the rest of the possible orientations, and not pulling that shit yourself. I swear to god.

[hausofmamadas]

| Always short to the gate |

⁂

Pairing: David Barrón & Enedina Arellano Félix

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

Word count: ≈ 7.8K

TWs: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of violence

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

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

⁂

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head.

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

✺

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

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

“What?”

“That it’s rude to stare.”

She threw her head back, laughing.

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

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

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, “Ah, tu lo sabes? Tienes razón. ‘Cause the working-class shit I’ve heard outta your mouth?” and shook my head. “They wouldn’t have let you in the building.”

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

“Well, then that would explain it.”

“Explain what?”

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

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

“Like they’re dessert.”

“Es solo porque eres tan dulce. Maybe I just can’t get enough. Maybe I have no choice.”

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

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

“Ya lo sé, y no me importa ni una mierda.”

“Oh, sí? Pues lo haría tampoco pero the second he sees it, he’ll think I did it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm, yeah, would’ve been a hazard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let me in. Anything. Tell me anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without a word, I turned and walked back toward the door. She followed, “Pinshe Nestor, este wey,” waving her hand dismissively at the window.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until she breathed out, “Oye.”

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

“And?”

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

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

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

“Why? What do you mean ‘why?’”

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

“I mean like ... why.”

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

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

“Because.”

“Because,” I shot back flatly.

“Because.”

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

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

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

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

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

Pero a ti te quiero.

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

A ti te quiero también.

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

So I just said, “Fine.”

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

“Yeah, fine, I’ll go.”

She beamed. My own personal sun.

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

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

✺

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

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

I roll my eyes.

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

Lost, I shoot him a look of confusion. “What’re you talking about?”

“Wait d— you don’t know who that is?”

I stare at him through half-lidded eyes.

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

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

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

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

My eyebrows shoot up.

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

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

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

“Seems she’s like that with everyone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aye,” Dina punctuates with a dip of her head. “Es lo que pensaba."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What no hug for me?”

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

“Woo,” Món hoots. ”Creo que Enedina ha tomado un poquito demasiado."

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

“Why? What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y esto? Esto es porque es mi compa. Él me conoce,” Pancho slurs, with a tipsy smile, eyes half shut.

“Qué pedo, is everyone drunk here besides me?” Món catches me smiling and rolls his eyes. “Tú no, rarito. You don’t count.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✺

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

“Yeah. And they know I’m not.”

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

“Shot of tequila.”

“What kind?”

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

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

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

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

“Ey, dónde aprendiste a bailar como eso?” someone asks quietly, in familiar but strangely-accented Spanish.

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

“Viene de familia.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Likewise. Dope piece.”

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

“What’s so funny?”

“Eh, it’s too hard— it’s nothin’.”

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

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

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

“You weren’t here last year?”

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

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

I turn my attention back to Strange Homie.

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

“Big animal fan, huh?”

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

“Easiest to relate to?” I joke.

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

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

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

“From Guadalajara?”

Strange Homie shrugs and nods.

“Nah. You?”

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

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

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

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

“The melting pot of America.”

“Ah, entonces eres un gringo?”

“Te has visto, hombre? De donde vengo, eres más gringo que yo.”

I half-expect Strange Homie to be offended but he just snickers and nods in agreement. “Pues, tal vez tengas razón. Supongo que quiero decir que eres un gabacho.”

“Close enough.”

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

I extend mine tentatively, “David Barrón.”

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

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

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

✺

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No love lost between my employer and me.”

“Hmm. Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

“Eh, eres un soldado either way.”

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

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

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

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

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

I nod listlessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’s that?”

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

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

“Why. You hiring?”

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

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

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

The hell is he even talki— oh, fuck.

What she sees in you.

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

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

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

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

[sagemoderocklee]

omg let’s go choose violence multiples of three 🔥

3. ANSWERED

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

lotta them are but def S/S and N/H for me.

i think n*r*gaa is annoying but like the actual fandom has toned down some or maybe i just been out of it so long i never have to see anything from them. though i still think its annoying whenever the fandom does stupid lil 'gaara is jealous of sasuke' jokes. annoyin as hell and completely disregards the way gaara empathized with sasuke--even if kishimoto couldn't commit to that more strongly. but hey no one is important unless they can be used to prop up the MC, and god forbid anyone but naruto feel anything for sasuke i guess. not like the whole thing with gaara and sasuke in classic was that gaara saw himself in sasuke... like rlly fuckin sucks what we coulda had there

9. worst part of canon

god there's so much that's bad but definitely the Otsutsuki. gotta be my least fave thing. zero foreshadowing because it was just a gimmick for boruto.

also ch 700 sucks and doesnt exist to me

12. ANSWERED

15. that one thing you see in fanart all the time

gonna assume this is meant negatively but uh besides the obvious blushing gaara shit also the orientalist designs that are out there. like gaara in these fake ass belly dancer type costumes. ugly and racist as hell. like if you wanna put Gaara in clothes from SWANA regions then do the fucking research. dont just throw shit together. you cant culture vulture your way to a diverse cast of characters

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

bitch i dont know >< uh... yeah i got nuthin

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

lmao most of it but definitely Madara

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

a*3

if someone wants to give their money to a site that hosts cp, racist fics, silences pro-Palestine volunteers, treats volunteers like shit and ignores the volunteers of color experiencing racism then imma block and move on with my day. and if someone wants to align themselves with ppl who send messages to the effect of "lol because of this im donating $100 to a*3" to mostly Black bloggers seeking mutual aid who happen to be critical of said site... well thats on them too. these ppl are one step away from callin Black ppl slurs but sure it's more important to protect this site from so-called censorship (it's actually just moderation, but go off with that fake ass oppression)

you dont get to call somethin art and then not criticize it and the spaces it inhabits. real literature is criticized, so if fanfic is held up to that standard then it and the spaces it exists in should be criticized--and in general any community space needs to be held to a standard, but hey that's askin mostly white ppl to care about community. but like either its transformative and therefore warrants engagement on that level or its just for fun--and if its the latter, then youre still sayin its fine to have fun at the expense of others; its fine to disseminate works that maintain the status quo, and even encourage it. you cant 'representation matters' and 'fiction doesnt impact reality' a thing--the two are contradictory, only one can be true, and hint: it's not the latter--or the space it exists in.

also genuinely think its so disingenuous to act like ppl critical of that site are all doin it out of spite and to "ruin ppls fun" insteada because they want that space to be welcoming and better for everyone--safer. ppl pushin for change are tryna make it a place that doesnt cause harm, silencing that is so fuckin stupid

[amazoniangrip]

💋 all of em :3

OOC: Since I have no idea whether or not you meant All Of Them in terms of characters or the subjects presented... Guess I'll do all of them in both categories.

Vriska

💋: This iteration of Vriska isn't too experienced in kissing, her strength is what provides the deepness and power to her smooches, but she has no advanced methods.

💄: Makeup... she rarely wears it and barely has a clue on how to apply anything save for lipstick.

👾: This Vriska is definitely a gamer, though her choice of game is mostly ones with much melee or hand to hand violence, she's quite good at Mortal Kombat 10

🎵: She's got a fair singing voice but it really only shows in the shower.

💃: Asking her to dance would be like asking a cow to do the twist. She's got dexterity but can't dance to save her life.

🎹: She doesn't practice with it much but she does have an acoustic guitar, she has to be very careful with it though, due to her great strength. She can play simple tunes with it, but nothing very fast or complex.

🌷: In spite of having taken care of spidermom for a long time before coming to this version of earth, she's terrible with taking care of living things beyond feeding them. any pet or plant would be horrifically bored living under her care.

🌲: Surviving... yeah she's got a stomach tuned for savage survival. Any earthly critter would be a quick meal for her, as for making shelter she would do so quickly, as Kanaya has taught her a fair bit about plantlife and natural fibers, when one can use as a needle, and how to make a tent from just large leaves and grass.

👊: Are you kidding? There is little that could stand up to her. She holds back often just because she wants relationships. She's an excellent fighter from her flarping days as well as the body she now has.

😇: Rules... she only really follows rules when it's convenient for her to do so, otherwise she disregards them at her leisure, rules to her are more suggestions than anything else.

🍳: She's a rather experienced cook. she spent many years on her own and with little to make things interesting and a rather ravenous belly, she cultivated a refined chefly skill, her skill includes soups, stews, stir fries, entrees of seasoned and well marinated meats, veggies and on occasion, various dishes of fish.

🍼: Do not give her your children. Sure she'll keep them safe but they absolutely will learn tax fraud and how to be e-girls.

🎁: As she has more money than she knows what to do with, All she really needs to do is listen to her pals and get them what they talk about, so she's sort of good at gift giving.

🎉: Her idea of a party is a tournament fight to near death and a cuddle pile afterwards. So you decide if that's good.

💌: She is great at the flirting and honeymoon aspect, but as soon as she has someone, she goes blank and wonders what the hell to do.

🎨: Chibi shitscribbles are the extent of her artistic prowess

🍀: Do you even need to ask? She has AAAAAAAALL the luck.

⚽: Aside from fencing and wrestling, she doesn't have experience in sports, and she isn't actually that good at what she does know, her strength just lets her win.

🏊: She can float very well due to... certain aspects of her body, but she isn't very good at swimming.

🚗: She's a fair driver, she doesn't crash but can't maintain control under high speeds.

🔮: She never went god tier but some residual magicks of her fated class remain, she's inordinately lucky and can float if she tries hard enough.

🔎: She has a good eye for detail, though tends to miss things if she's too determined to get something done.

🔫: She does own a large caliber pistol but that's mostly for intimidation, however, her naturally fucking epic eyesight and muscle control make her a rather accurate markswoman.

💣: She has no fucking clue how to use explosives.

🔪: She is excellent with melee weapons, specifically Cutlass swords and curved blades in general.

🔬: Having canonically made several doomsday devices and made them specifically to fail, she's heavily technologically inclined, though out of practice. as for science in biological areas... she isn't very well versed.

🚿: She keeps herself very tidy and is a bit of a neat freak, especially because her roommates often make messes.

💰: Due to her luck powers and a rather well put together brain, she's gamed the local stock market and made successful business ventures, she has all the money she could ever need and more.

🌍: She doesn't have all that much knowledge of the earth she's currently living on, but she does know she lives in the green fields outside of a large city.

👻: She has really no connection with the paranormal. And never wants to.

📚: She's an excellent reader and has a private stash of books, they are mostly fiction and books on money.

🔧: She's been fixing her ship since the moment she landed on earth, and knows every inch of it, she also fixes cars on the side for the fun of working on primitive tech.

⌛: She's often late to gatherings and appointments but no one has called her out on it yet because she's fuckin huge.

📥: She's got everything in her room organized because she resents to mess her roommates make, that goes for every room in her ship, especially the kitchen.

🍺: She could walk into a bar, drink everything they have, and only have a small hangover the next day. She used to have a severe drinking problem and her alcohol tolerance is extremely high.

🚴: If she could find a bike that can hold her she might be able to ride one.

🎭: She's dramatic to be sure, her childhood spent roleplaying though actually helped her hone her theatric skill, as long as she's interested in a role she could do at least a decent portrayal.

⚓: How fucking dare you question her sailing skill? She's literally the captain of a (space)ship and you will respect her post! In all honesty, if on an actually ship on the water she'd learn it fairly quickly.

➗: She's the kind of woman who, while wearing a bathrobe, just got out of bed and hasn't gotten her coffee yet, would see you struggling with a math problem, steal your pen, and solve it in an instant. She's got mad math knowledge not for days but YEARS.

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

OK ok. many things 2 say. i just woke up and read ur answer so bare w me i have a lot

first of all. yeah people really fuck with malons character and the tropes they stick to her are boring at best and misogynistic at worst and it makes me Very Upset. shes one of my favs and shes actually rlly interesting if u squint (im abt to make 2 posts abt that lol) but noooo shes Time's Wife and The Boys Mother and nothing more . when it comes to Time L/U its weird bc it takes the heroes shade into account (which is fine! it is canon!) but imo the heroes shade completely fucked her character to shit and disregarded her entire story of oot and mm and. hhhh. i dont like that version of her becoming the Main Interpetation. please stop making her a brooding asshole please consider her as shes written pleaaaase 🙏🙏

i dont blame u for finding oot and mm dull. theyre long and old and not quite story-heavy as sksw and botw but im just insane about its themes and characters so if u ever have questions i can prolly answer them (and itd make me super happy lmao 🕺💃)

i didnt even know the shortened names were a completely fanon thing what !! hell world ig aaaagh

and OK THANK YOU!!!! there is a MASSIVE difference between tired and sleepy and he is TIRED if anything !!!!!!!! the entire game is about how devoted link is to saving zelda that it caused the reincarnation cycle OF COURSE HE WOULD BE TIRED. OF COURSE HE WOULD SACRIFICE SLEEP FOR THE SAKE OF HER. OF COURSE!!!!!!!!! i will say that there is this interesting thing w sksw in that, like... you start out being told link is someone who is very carefree and almost lackadaisical. he lives with his head in the clouds and takes things at his own pace and he likes to stop and smell the roses and whatnot (see: everything zelda says at the beginning of the game abt him not practicing and not rlly taking it seriously and etc etc etc). hes too late to see her at the forest temple and impa tells him he was too late to SAVE her and THEN we get that iconic "am i late?" "no. youre right on time." scene, and then it ends w ghirahim saying hes "far too quick" at the end of the game. what im getting at is that hes trying so, so hard throughout the game to be the hero zelda needs, and he gets better and better and better (albeit at his own expense). i DO think the impa scene was the major turning point and fucked up his view of himself ("why would i need to take care of myself when she still needs to be saved?") but point is. he is trying so hard. yes hed be tired and itd almost certainly be self imposed but sleepy? LAZY??? did you play the game past the opening .

you and me have the same brain abt sksw link i think. no more sleepy soft sweetheart link i want sksw link with a good heart who is still ultimately so sooo tired and weary bc he is putting everything he is into saving his friend but who also wont pass up the opportunity to fuck with people or wreck shit if he wants to.

ok sorry for the long messages. Why am i not following you what hang on

Dang :/ you really can't have anything in this place, huh? (Also I'd love to hear what you have to say on the hero's shade (even if its just in the context of lu), because I do quite like him (although the version that exists in my head is admittedly a bit-- different))

It's not that I don't want to watch it its just that I know after about three hours I'll be giving up (yeah I can replay a game I've already finished three times for six straight hours but GOD FORBID I try to watch a new show or listen to a podcast :/)

Yeah the names are shortened. yall could've been creative at least? It feels like it reduces them down even further, if that makes sense

YES he's getting faster and faster but at what cost!! Buddy you're going to make yourself sick!!! Take a break once in a while!!! (I say while actively writing several fics in which he Does Not Take A Fucking Break)

At this point sksw link simply has no shits left to give. Like yeah he'll help people but. Wouldn't it just be so much easier to give this love letter away as toilet paper? And also like I know it's just restrictions on how many words they can get in the boxes. But he seems like a pretty blunt guy. I think someone who's a quote unquote "soft sweetheart" would at least be willing to use more than three words at a time (and he wouldn't walk closer to better hear a private conversation, cough, pipit and his mom, cough, and then lie about it)

[skaruresonic]

Why do I get the feeling this list is a combination of IDW!Sonicisms, misunderstanding Games!Sonic's character, tarring everything with the Big Bad Sega brush, and strawmen of things we've said? 1.) "Speak more than one sentence" is an extremely absurd strawman of the general point that Sonic is reticent and shouldn't be expositing for paragraphs on end. 2.) "Not care about the death of someone he doesn't like" - still salty about the fact that "big oof" is a stupid and hypocritical thing to say about the death of someone you claimed to want to give a second chance, aren't you 3.) "Kill," "not kill" - Once again people are trying to boil this shit down to a false dichotomy. Sonic has proven willing to kill in the past and his general attitude towards saving Eggman's life is that of neglect and disregard. No, that doesn't mean he goes around slaughtering his enemies in cold blood, but neither is he an uwu I would NEVER type of guy. 4.) "Be too violent" - idk where they got this one from but it's probably connected to #3 5.) "Be part of the Restoration" - because IDW isn't canon. 6.) "Actively participate in Restoration missions" - because IDW isn't canon.

7.) "Have a phone"

8.) "Try to redeem an enemy"

Not even gonna bother falling down this rabbit hole.

8.) "Dislike the attitude of others"

9.) "Have short quills," "have long quills" - yeah mostly because people flipped their shit about the possibility of Frontiers recycling Forces!Sonic's character model, so now we can't have nice things

10.) "Cry" - Sonic canonically dislikes tears.

inb4 you say "but that's an old profile though," in Battle he taught Emerl that the worst thing you could do was make a girl cry.

11.) "Get too angry" - idek what this one means but okay

12.) "Have emotions like a normal person" - oh you mean you don't like how Sega doesn't like it when you contort Sonic's face in order to make him broadcast his Emoshuns from a mile away. oh ok. I get it now.

13.) "Have a girlfriend/boyfriend" - putting aside the fact that the series has never had a heavy focus on romance, the games have been hinting that Sonic's relationship with Amy has grown a little closer. Notice I said a little; he was still heavily implied in SatBK's manual to be stressed out about his upcoming date with Amy.

14.) "Have facial expressions" - because Yardley's blowing it for everybody in that regard lmaoooo

15.) "Say y'all" - I have no idea what this is referring to, but I can say with about 95% confidence that Sonic the Hedgehog Would Not Fucking Say That

16.) "Make too many jokes" - still salty that Boom's writers didn't understand Shadow enough to realize he wasn't a quip-spouting machine, aren't you Squidward

17.) "Make references to pop culture" - because that shit is obnoxious and too much of it will date your work. Sonic's supposed to be relatively timeless.

18.) "Eat chili dogs" - ???? yeah 'cause people act like he eats nothing else. In Unleashed, he eats a wide variety of food, but based on fanon, you'd think his diet consists entirely of chilidogs

19.) "Have anxiety" - ???????? bruh?

20.) "Play guitar" - pointing out that IDW issue whatever-the-fuck where Sonic's reclining on a couch strumming the guitar with a smug smirk pasted to his face is a direct lift from a panel in Archie 175 where he's doing the exact same thing does not equal "Sonic can never play the guitar." my God the bones you must have broken with that reach

21.) "Be cute," "be cute and cool" - no idea what this even means but ST's always striven to balance Sonic's rougher bad-boy side with his cute and good-hearted side. Somehow it's everyone else who struggles to get the memo. 22.) "Not be in a dynamic pose 24/7" - you are aware that you're talking about Sonic the Hedgehog, right 23.) "Not have a three-quills silhouette 24/7" - these are some weird-ass hangups about the character models man 24.) "Be a shounen protagonist," "not be a shounen protagonist" - hey can we collectively decide to put the word "shounen" on a shelf until fandom knows what that shit actually means and how Sonic still doesn't fit the definition? pls and thank

25.) "Be defeated" - considering that one of the Sega mandates we DO know of states that Sonic cannot be shown definitively losing... no shit. But even then, how do you explain Sonic getting his ass whooped in Forces? play the games pls?

26.) "Drive a car"

27.) "Ride a hoverboard" - doesn't make much sense to use Extreme Gear outside of the Riders games.

28.) "Use a sword" - oh so you're just being facetious. m'kay. 29.) "Sit back and relax," "be hyperactive" - hey remember what I said yesterday about people being unable to grasp Sonic's multiplicity of character, their failure to realize that context determines his behavior, and instead trying to shove him into false dichotomies? This is exactly what I'm talking about.

30.) "Be goofy" - lmao someone's extra salty about Sonic Boom, I see

So, according to Sonic Twitter sheep...

[justagaycryptid]

FUCKIN THEORY TIME BABEYY!!!!

Hell world

Anyways, fuck I can’t believe I forgot about this

Okay, so when you go back to Heist, we all know that canon ending right? The one with Ro and her trying to blow us the fuck up since we’ve been identified as the anomaly yeah? 

And everyone has already made the connection that it’s the same crystal on the box that we have in space. FUck I can’t believe I didn’t see how space was gonna end sooner because really the canon ending for Heist was the predecessor to Space. This really isn’t any big revelation, but yeah the canon ending for Heist is lowkey a speedrun of what happens in space. The crystal, the fucked up glitching universe, the intersecting timelines, the resets, someone trying to shoot us because they think we’re why everything is all fucky. 

It was showing us what was going to happen. Because once the crystal is taken care of then everything goes back to normal. Just like in space. 

Now I mean I can’t say whether or not that was Mark’s plan from the get go or what, but like- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

So as I have been saying before; Space is a parallel universe to the one we’re familiar with. I dunno if Mark has said anything regarding whether or not Heist Mark is Actor Mark so for now I’m gonna proceed as if that is still the case. So yeah I think that WKM, WMLW and Heist are all in one universe, and Space is parallel to it. Same people-ish but placed in a universe where they made different choices. So like Engineer Mark is like Actor Mark in which he is that universe’s version of Actor Mark, while also not being Actor Mark (makes sense right). I think that when we sent the crystal back through the wormhole in space, it fixes stuff in Space since now there is only the one crystal in that universe rather than the two, and so it is then sent to the parallel universe where Dark finds it and decides to cause problems with it. 

Now it’s hard to say what Dark’s overall motivations are for setting Heist into motion, maybe it’s him working on playing the ‘villain’ as he agreed to at the end of Damien, because really if you look at it he hasn’t really done anything past being a cryptic bastard. Really, I dunno. To be fair what all happened in Heist was fairly low stakes (unless it wasn’t and we’re all about to be rube goldberged into a world of hurt by the culmination of all these projects) so I’m not sure. I’ll hold out before I make any definitive judgements. 

Also I’m not sure exactly why the crystal in Heist is causing the anomalies since it’s not really apparent if there’s another crystal already there or if it’s just an intrinsic property of the crystal to Cause Problems on Purpose. 

Really it’s probably just a Mcguffin that has no meaning in of itself past serving as a token to get the plot to putter along. Something easy to assign blame to. Or it could have a solid set of rules that it abides by. Mark wouldn’t let us know otherwise but imma go with the first option. 

Maybe the crystal is sorta like us in that it can travel between the two parallels whilst remaining itself, sorta like how we can still be ourselves in both Heist and Space (unless we’re a different version of Y/N... which I honestly do not want to begin tackling atm so I’m gonna disregard that possibility). 

So yeah in general Space and the normal universe? Separate parallels. Though with the fucky wucky stuff regarding the crystal they sorta bleed together which is why we’re able to see Yancy and he remember us, or how we can have Mark coming to take us out on a second date considering how thus far I believe that ADWM takes place in the parallel universe. 

They bleed together and show us new possibilities. Show us what can happen and what may happen, what will happen and what has happened. 

Time does not exist and everything is happening all at once, one after the other, and one before the other. 

The order of everything does not exist, as we saw in WMLW. 

Time does not work how we know it should in this world. We’ve already been told this before. 

The only concrete timeline is that there’s WKM then WMLW/Damien and then the rest is free game to take place when the fuck ever. 

(ALSo I’m gonna go ahead and call Mark out now for bein a big ole’ fuckin Doctor Who nerd because I absolutely caught what you were doing) 

And hammering it back home again is that Engineer Mark shows who Actor Mark COULD be. 

Engineer Mark very much started going down the same path Actor Mark did, being left alone, his trust broken and being misguided by outside forces into believing something that was not true, and then making choices according to what he thought he knew that just ended up hurting both himself and everybody around him. 

But like others have already pointed out, he had us. 

And Actor Mark had nobody. 

So yeah that’s my latest brain vomit and imma keep workin on my theories so like always feel free to drop any other thots or info if you’d like while I continue to lose my marbles 

[staryarn]

I love this man Lear despite having no idea what he is like. Please, do tell us what he is like because I want to cherish this man and I love your explanations.

Under the cut bc my explanations may be long. Also he shows up like twice in the new events and it's only for a little bit so not much content (mind you ive only started pokemas ex recently so I can't account for all of his stuff. Please note I don't have him in game so that also takes away from me examining his character a bit). Disregard if I've spelt his name wrong I touch type and type really fast so yeah.

Please note that this literally spoils the entire main plot of pokemon masters ex so yeah. To explain what he's like I need to explain literally everything abt him so so sorry. If you want a better explanation literally bulbapedia (despite being down all the time) explains it much better.

THIS IS A LONG ASS POST. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Okay so so like. This is mostly me going off of the main story and trying to summarize that. My headcanons are slightly based off that and stuff so yeah but Idk if ill include them. Mostly because i have to replay canon etc bc my biased explanation is 'he's a whiny fucking pathetic clown (affectionate)' so yeah.

So to summarize his general backstory (general as in im going off of memory rn), he's the son of some King and Queen (no reigon is given its just an area that isn't really brought up in canon. So literally free space).

As a child (don't quote me on this I'm remembering from the game) he was relatively nice and caring to peopleand pokemon.

At some point in his childhood his mother dies (who I'm assuming he was close to because yikes) and his father decides to send him to a strict school (it's mentioned that he was both training and studying there). When he was sent to the school he wasn't allowed to see Rachel and Sawyer (his two retainers who are also his only friends) and was isolated from them (i think saying its for lear's own good and that the two will only make him weaker. I'll get back to this later). That's shown in a cutscene which also shows his teachers (?) Who are trainers (in game it's showed to have a pokemon ranger and an ace trainer so yeah). Theyre particularly strict and personally I find them mean.

At some point during his training lear meets Hoopa (mythical psychic ghost I think) on a beach (note lear meets hoopa because he ran away bc the training is literally too hard on him. Please note he is crying in the custcene). Young lear doesn't exactly want to become King and he doesn't know why his father is forcing him to do this (he assumes it's to become king.) He's incredibly lonely and desperately misses both Rachel and Sawyer along with his Mother. He meets Hoopa (who initially does scare him. In which he insists he's royalty and laying a scratch on him would cause his family to react and save him. Please note he says 'save me' after a bit of a pause so definitely some doubt.)

Hoopa then summons a whole ass pokemon for him, which promptly also scares him (to which he days he won't be scared of Hoopa's tricks anymore). Hoopa then gives lear a sync stone (tldr pasio uses sync pairs only and to form a sync pair you need a sync stone. And to use it you have to have some sort of bond with your pokemon. I'll get to that in a bit). At some point he asks Hoopa to be his servant which it promptly refuses. After that (and a pause of hesitation), Lear asks to be friends and Hoopa agrees.

Okay so Back to Sawyer and Rachel wanting to see Lear. They ask to see Lear because the two are worried for him and want to cheer him up. They can't see him anyways bc of the Ace trainer and Ranger who say no and that Lear is resting and that the two are far too soft for him. (Mostly bc theyre preparing Lear for the throne so yeah). Lear is then told to become a great king he must put in great effort into training (yknow,, the training that's like.. breaking him). At some point in another cutscene Lear just collapses (all is shown is the camera moving down and panting so uh). The trainers berate him for being exhausted already. They say he must be prepared to carry the entire fate of the kingdom on his shoulders (fucking yikes he's like a child - a teen in this like damn). They also tell him they don't want to hear his excuses and tell him to stop playing around ("Maybe if you stopped playing hooky all the time, you wouldn't be so far behind"). Theyre aware that Lear has been sneaking out (I'd assume visiting Hoopa) and missing his studies. And they say it's 'for his own good'. They literally move him to a different training facility do he can focus (and literally have no positive interaction like fuck).

The way he copes with losing literally anything and everything positive in his life (at the moment) is to say "why does it have to be so hard? Why won't anybody help me? No one understands. Not Rachel... Not Sawyer... who am I supposed to depend on? [Pause] No one's ever been there for me. I'm alone. Maybe... maybe I don't need anyone's help! There's only one person in this world I can truely depend on- Me! And only me!" (LIVE ADRIEN REACTION)

After this it cuts to current Lear and he kept that mentality for a bit. I'm assuming he trained extremely hard and overworked himself after that because fuck man.

At some point he's back home (in kingdom whatever etc where he is reuinted with Rachel and Sawyer, who are still his retainers.) and Red challenges him. Like out of nowhere. And fucking wipes the floor w him (I'd assume bc he holds grudge against both red and his "shoddy hat".) After that he fucking builds an entire island (out of spite???) and founded the PML (pokemon Master's League) on Pasio (the island he created from scratch.) The PML was founded in hopes that Lear would overcome his weaknesses and become the Champion. If it'd a success, Lear is promised to literally be the hier to the throne. (Don't quote me on this but as far as I remember if pasio fails the dude literally can't go home or like he might as well not go home considering it isn't 'home' any more).

I personally don't want to explain the entire events of the game because enough it's a lot. So here

https://m.bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Lear

Early on he treats pokemon and people like tools, saying that they're a bit burdensome (bc he quickly replaces his pokemon in some scenes). Over time he slowly accepts the idea of 'friendship'. Like he's shit at it but he's trying. Much better at insulting people but that's because of how he's used to it. He also can not use sync moves early on because he has like no bond to his pokemon (however later on he can use sync moves with hoopa who he does have a bond with). He believes friendship / teamwork is 'weak' and causes you to rely on others. He also thinks victory is the only important thing and that having fun is worthless. He is in denial if he is beat with the power of friendship.

Also at some point he is straight up kidnapped by Team Break (villain team on the island). So that happens. To be fair, because of this he learns the error of his ways and literally defeats team break with the power of both friendship and teamwork (he has some decent tactics so he's very observant).

In the end he does not win the Pokemon Master's League (the player does rip) but his dad says he's proud of him so there's that.

At some point he does have a rematch with red and loses. Though oddly he doesn't feel too bad for losing (HES HEALING WIN)

-

-

-

Anyways back to your question of what he's like. He's incredibly complicated and definitely has some issues (some sort of inferiority / superiority complex, abandonment issues, trust issues,etc). He has a bit of a hard time accepting that people do genuinely want to help and support him, along with the fact that depending on people doesn't make you weak. He's trying to recover and it hasn't been easy but he's trying his best. He's not too open to the whole 'friendship' thing but he still gives it a shot. Thankfully Rachel, Sawyer, And Hoopa are there for him. He's an incredibly traumatized character (very realistic in the process, mentality, and healing. At least to me)

Anyways he's pathetic and a tsundere. Like a clown but worse (affectionate). Like a chewtoy for a dog. Very arrogant and confident (kinda. He has doubts. Again superiority inferiority complex deal). Very fleshed out for being a spin off character.

Anyways let me copy paste all my headcanons about him. If you've seen these on twitter congrats.

some lear hcs bc im a clown

- Touch adverse with new people. He's not about to let his walls down that easily.

- Very bad at responding to affection. Less that he doesn't like it moreso that he doesn't understand how he should properly respond to it. Very awkward.

-considering his upbringing , I wouldn't entirely doubt that there's a lot of fear that he's not 'strong enough to become a King' etc. He pushes himself too hard.

-Very slowly getting better about the whole 'friend' thing. He's not healing fast but he's at least healing.

- sunglasses due to both light sensitivity and also it helps him mask his eyes.

-He has a fur collar and lives on an island so I'd like to assume he gets cold easily. Probably poor circulation or sometimes of the sort.

- if he wasn't a prince and had reputation I have no doubt that he'd fucking bite or throw hands with team break. Tbf the fact that they exist as a villain team is also his fault so eh. Clown on clown violence pvp enabled zone on pasio.

- he's trying to bond with his other three Pokémon. It's a bit awkward and embarrassing for him but it's worth it for a stronger and better relationship in general.

- actually showed in game but is getting better with teamwork and tactics. Can be very dangerous to fight.

-Tries to have confidence and pride in himself. Still a lot of self doubt from the whole 'me vs the world' thing but it's not exactly like failure is a choice so he just moves on. Still appreciates Rachel and Sawyers compliments.

- practiced smile and laugh. His actual genuine laugh is a lot softer + nicer and his actual smile is a $3 smile (affectionate but he no longer knows how to correctly smile besides his actual practiced one.)

- he has very little experience with anything outside of his 2 person circle of Rachel and Sawyer. Friends? Romance? Dude you'd kill him on sight that's how flustered / baffled he is. Defeat caught off guard but tries to play it off like he's cool.

- since his mother's death he was forced into training and studying. And sometime after that he got beat hy red and created pasio. He had had no time to grieve so it all starts to hit him after the first PML tournament. Has a somewhat tense relationship with his father.

- Rachel and Sawyer are both his best friends (though he doesn't admit that) and his only friends. He's known the two since his childhood and deeply cares about the two, despite his words. The same goes for Hoopa, a very strong bond that helps him grow as a person.

- He also deeply appreciates Cheren and the help he offered. Though he wouldn't exactly admit that theyre 'friends' (not yet at least) he still prefers him over any other random trainer. He's slowly starting to open himself up again and heal because of Cheren.

-outside of Pasio he tries to have a low profile. While being a prince is fun it's also incredibly tiring to keep that image 24/7. Also he doesn't know how to navigate a city as a pedestrian. Usually Hair down or tied up with different sunglasses. The glasses are a must.

- not a super fragile immune system but still poor in general. Seasonal allergies kick his ass and if he doesn't take care of himself he will get very sick. But with proper rest he gets over it quickly so it's usually fine.

- should he know physical defense? Yes. Does he? No. I mean he probably could fist fight team break with all his pent up anger but that's about it. Steel chair for defense otherwise his best bet is Hoopa or Rachel+ Sawyer. However would probably use his smarts as an advantage.

- slightly embarrassed about his height. The thought of lear in platform shoes is funny though.

- hates being picked up. He was fine with it as a child but absolutely despises it as of now. It makes him feel a bit weak.

- misses his family despite the tension.

- Cheren is like his only friend outside of Rachel and Sawyer. Lear calls him a 'pest' but it's just bc he's awkward. He appreciates Cheren's perspective on the situation. Two peas in a pod.

- realistically couldn't stand horror movies (he was scared by hoopa like) but I think its funny if he's just like, entirley unphased. Like he finds them horribly boring and picks out the inconsistencies. But also probably hates them lmao.

- his weak immune system is a family trait. So he definitely has to be careful and ensure strict rules around Pasio. (personal hc on how his mother passed away). Tries to play it off like he's cool but usually freaks out if he gets sick. He wears all those layers for a reason.

- not exactly a headcanon I go by but I just that it'd be funny if his sunglasses were perscription lmao

- decent spice tolerance vs low sugar tolerance. Sure he can eat spicy things but he's rarely had sweets (strict diets and stuff while training etc) so he's not really used to them. Has only had donuts because of Hoopa. He still likes it though, he just can't have a lot. Can deal with bitter things (black coffee, etc)

- only child and was incredibly lonely for a while (and still is). But definitely looks up to both Rachel ans Sawyer. The two are a bit older than him and through he doesn't admit it he fondly looks up to the two as older siblings. Also that doesn't stop him from being a brat.

- Lear, Rachel , and Sawyer all have matching earrings after the events of the PML championship. It's just a singular earring worn on either ear. Generally a red gem of sorts.

- decently long hair but puts it up for appearances etc. There's like three people who've seen him with his hair down and that's it (Rachel, Sawyer, and Cheren). Takes him over an hour to get ready rip lmao

- horrible sense of balance. Will fall down the stairs if distracted so like 🤝😔.

- while he likes being around people he genuinely dislikes loud and crowded events. Absolutely despises formal events he's forced to attend but has to keep up his role as prince and future heir. Dislikes very formal wear also because it feels very closed off.

- most of the time when he says 'friend' or 'teamwork' it's like he just ate a lemon. Still trying to get used to it but also internally cringes at it.

- not even a headcanon just a fact. He will bite you if you piss him off. That's a promise. He's like a stray cat and will attack if needed.

/hj, lh

- was taught how to make paper stars by his Mother. Still makes them to this very day and does so in his free time. (Another hc a user made that I latched onto)

- absolutely a perfectionist. If it isn't good the first time start over until it's perfect. He keeps the perfect ones sealed vs mishaped ones tossed in his room

- his room is relatively neat. Sure there are stars tossed around but he keeps after himself. When he was training his room had to be spotless so he still carries some of that mentality around. Force of habit really.

- his training really took a toll on him and he still carries the scars on him. Tries his very best all the time but is starting to get tired of it. Occasionally he has his quiet days. Not exactly sulking but moreso reflecting on his past. He does this on the beach at night.

- Still can be really rude and snarky. He's trying to be better and get out of those habits so it mostly comes out when he's frustrated. Just give him time to cool off.

- once he gets into it, he's very flirty and will be incredibly extra. Whether he does so purposefully is up to the situation. Though mostly it's just things he says that turn out to be flirty. You will know when he's flirting with you, that's a promise.

- has to break up Sawyer and Rachel from fighting. It's cute that the two care for him this much but also this is the fifth time this week the two have fought over 'who cares for Master Lear more and who he cares for more' etc.

- tries not to publicly or audibly cry. Just a thing he learned while training. Very quiet and curls up into a little ball. Hides away in his room unless something is very urgent and he has to attend to it that moment.

- has had to research about all the legendaries that appear on Pasio, along with Hoopa (both forms). He has to keep tabs on the legendaries, if they're in sync pairs, and what they're capable of (mostly to ensure Pasio's saftey)

- flirt with him and he dies on sight. It usually catches him off guard so it's mostly him sputtering out words and suffering. Occasionally he hides his face (as red as his shades lmao) or hides in his coat fluff.

- Thinks of both Rachel ans Sawyer as family. Not exactly his only family (bc his relationship with his father is... tense) but closer than anyone. He's an only child so they two were like older siblings to him who guided him.

- It was a horrible experience for him. To have his mother pass away and then be ripped from both Rachel and Sawyer. It deeply scarred him and though it made him 'stronger',, he still resents his father to some degree.

- He desperately wants to be king. At first to show his father that he's finally strong enough to be considered a proper hier and to be 'worthy'. As of now it's moreso to prove he can be a much better and caring king than his father currently is.

- Though he doesn't act like it, he deeply cares for those around him. He tries to look out for them without making it too obvious. Very bad with words of support so hopefully his presence can help. Stays quiet, mostly out of respect and fear that he'll say the wrong things.

- not used to physical affection and very not used to actual pda. He will explode. Suffers trying to keep his image while also desperately trying not to get flustered. Denies anything and everything. He's a horrible liar when ut comes to this.

- very mild and neutral when alone. He has no need to put on that act 24/7 so it's like a breath if fresh air. Catch him like that and you'll catch him off guard. Will be very flustered and immediately continue his normal act. Resting bitch face (same).

- extremely stubborn. His way until he's forced to accept help or try something else. Will rarely listen to others or accept their help (unless it's forced bc then he has no choice)

-besides the paper stars littered sound his room he has one hidden stuffed toy from his childhood. You can only guess who gave him that considering he doesn't have any others (rip)

- not exactly a headcanon but if you gave him bubble tea he would choke on the boba. A funny drawing prompt whsg

- has never had a snowball fight or actively been in snow. Hashtag Island problems. Would do great in a fight considering he can throw pokeballs well

(🤝 except unlike him I've been in snow. Just no fights rip)

-

- besides the steel chair he will just knock you out with a pokeball. Good throwing arms on that twink. (This is a joke this is a joke this is a j-

- has gloves because he keeps getting papercuts on his hands from folding paper stars. His hands might as well be covered in bandaids

-played with a lot of pokemon as a child and was raised with some. The three (as in Rachel, Lear, and Sawyer) would often run around w them.

As of now those are all my personal headcaons and opinions on him. So yeah

[bitimdrake]

What do you think would happen if Tim fell to his death in rr 12?? Would he consider reviving him via Lazarus pit?

anon you have left me with a pronoun where I need a proper noun. But I think the only likely candidates here are "Ra's" or "Dick," so let's just do both!

I don't think Ra's would. It's a very fun hypothetical to imagine. You only need to nudge things a little bit, and then you get to figure out what that would look like. How would Ra's use this for some convoluted master plan of manipulation? How upset would Tim be about it?

But if we're going canon, I find it unlikely. Red Robin ultimately reveals the whole thing functioned as a test from Ra's to prove if Tim was worthy of making a new heir for him. (In the same way he once wanted an heir from Bruce and Damian; and so presumably this also means "an heir he can later body snatch" more than "an heir to take over the league.")

But I don't think Ra's is the type to give any leeway on that sort of test. If he's not giving his all, how can he truly know Tim is good enough? And imo Tim dying would be judged as a failure, even if he succeeded in the rest. That's not to mention that Tim just proved that he's not nearly as isolated as Ra's thought, and still has friends and family he can rely on, which I imagine makes him a less compelling target for Ra's' manipulations anyway.

So, yeah, I think it would be more: ah, such a pity, wasted this test on someone who lost; ah, well, moving onto the next person I can manipulate!

If we're talking about Dick...

My instinctual answer is still no--Dick laid out very clearly that he thinks using the pit to resurrect people is an objectively terrible decision in Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul when he talked Tim down from it. And Dick has lost people before, people he was close to, people he had absolutely awful reactions to losing, but he doesn't have any pattern of trying to subvert death. (Like--Donna's death absolutely devastated him and hung over his head for a long time, but even as he was reacting unhealthily, he wasn't trying to deny it or get her back. Very unlike Tim's history.)

...Except. There does happen to be that one story in Batman and Robin (not long before RR#12!) where Dick decides to throw Bruce's body in a Lazarus Pit.

And I don't like this story. I think it's absolutely stupid coming so soon after Resurrection, completely contradictory to what we just established. But that (imo) incredibly OOC feeling is absolutely compounded by (a) the fact that Resurrection isn't even brought up at all for him address, (b) the overall lack of emotion in this story to justify where Dick's head is at, (c) Morrison's typical complete disregard for contemporary continuity making me give them zero leeway.

I could maybe be convinced to imagine the version of the story that is, essentially, "Dick gets to be a little hypocritical sometimes." Yes, he just said himself this kind of thing was a horrible idea, and yes he still knows that deep down. But he's stressed, and drowning, and really fucking upset about losing his dad. And just this once, he wants someone back.

I mean, eh, I still don't like it much. But it is canon, and I can nudge it to dislike it less.

So there is precedent for Dick breaking principle to try to put a loved one in the pit regardless. And this scenario would absolutely be one rife with irrational emotion--Tim is his beloved little brother of many years, who's been missing for months, who he just almost got back, who fell to his death, and possibly did so in front of Dick if we're just pushing him to be a few seconds late. You could argue this would be just the kind of extreme circumstance to make him do something stupid, like put Tim in the pit.

On the other hand, the context of B&R may actually lead to Dick not doing this, specifically because it sets precedent. Because that incident went very poorly: the "Bruce" was not really Bruce, and not-Bruce escaped and nearly killed a fair few people Dick cares about. And the whole thing was blatantly A Huge Mistake. A very very recent Huge Mistake, that is very applicable to the question of "should I try to resurrect Tim."

So my conclusion here is no, I don't think Dick would do it.

...BUT you could justify it if you really want to see the au. And I would also still be interested in said AU.

[ghostingcrows]

Yeah and I don't think its okay when flowerbyte does it either but I'm not entirely sure how that makes it anymore okay

If it was toxic when flowerbyte did it why is it just

Okay when you did it?

And again I've said this like three times thats literally NOT what you said in your original post

Your original post doesn't include you saying you think shipping them is okay or that neither side should be toxic towards each other

You literally just insulted flowerbyte shipppers because their ship won't be canon, called them desperate, and than purposefully tagged the ship with a literal evil laugh

As for the last bit

Thats a weird thing to say

Just full stop thats a weird thing to say

Calling people who are frequently underrepresented that want to GET that representation dumb because the rep they want probably won't be canon is weird.

And thats probably why people think ghfl shippers are racist because even if that wasn't your intent or how you meant it thats still how it comes across

Like lets think of it outside of a ship

I think of Gwen as trans

Because she has a protect trans kids flag in her room and because her story is coming out allegory and because I'm trans and thinking of the character I adore and love so much as similar to me in that way is fun and even if she won't be cannon I still like to write her that way and draw her with trans flags and think of her as trans

If someone made a post that was calling me delusional and complaining about how Gwen isn't trans, will never be trans, and that people who like to think shes trans are just desperate and toxic while tagging the post as like

Idfk "trans Gwen Stacy" or something so that people who like and make trans Gwen content SEE that

That would be weird

That IS weird

And I would absolutely assume and think that person is transphobic

That is essentially what you just did

Fandoms break canon ALL the time and disregard or shift canon to integrate parts they like and again they HAVE been doing that for DECADES

Especially surrounding queer and characters of color because for a long time there WAS no gay characters and there was no or were very FEW characters of color

People deserve to see themselves in media and if that means not following the canon 1 to 1 or changing certain dynamics who the fuck cares

Its not going to change the outcome of BTSV and getting worked up and insulting people for wanting the rep just makes you look bad

flowerbyte shippers are literally just setting themselves up for disappointment. like do you people honestly believe the writers will throw away two movies worth of chemistry between gwen and miles just to fuck it all up so miles can get with a girl who he’s known for like 5 seconds??

[asmrtist-brainrot]

What about poly hcs for Ollie, Aaron and Elliot? An odd pairing but I think they’d work out swell

Alright so, after the whole yandere things and the Imperium hurting my heart - this gonna be soft

Uh, Ollie canonically doesn't have any knowledge of the magical world but we're gonna disregard that for now!

Gender Neutral! Reader + Reader is a combination of Mentor/Smartass/Sunshine

~ Dari

Poly Office Dreams HCs

as young adults, it had mostly been both you and Elliot

the pair of you were thicker then thieves and as he says, "the definition of; will they, won't they"

honestly, with how everything was, it was only the pair of you against the world once he'd told you about his abilities and everything

you hadn't accounted for anyone else, especially as you entered the office field in search for work and a fiery want for changing the system

first encountering Aaron, your hot-tempered boss that you butt heads with often - never mind that you'd found him attractive

he was kind of an ass but you could understand what kind of position he was in, between the screaming matches and all - you try and take the load off of him by taking care of some of the new hires (even from other branches)

Oliver is one of them - you thought he was adorable

a bit of a mess and feels incredibly out of place, but you do your best to make sure he feels like he belongs

Elliot is at your side through all of this, interested in hearing about these work companions that you speak so highly of (or snark at)

naturally, the pair of you were already together when he hears them in the echoes of your dreams

... it isn't long before he figures the pair have a rather sizeable crush on not only you but each other - much to his amusement

and through his curiosity, meets them through their's

Eli is certainly amused to see his brother grow this soft spot for you

he also eventually concludes that does not mind that they're on your thoughts so much - something he tells you as such

it is a company party that brings you all together, to celebrate a promotion that would bring you to another branch - effectively making Aaron no longer your boss

Aaron and Oliver were somewhat dismayed to hear that you were bringing your boyfriend, who practically strutted in and began laying it on thick

he started flirting so heavily with Ollie who is certainly embarrassed by him being so forward, concerned initially but stopped dead when he saw you picking on Aaron

though the latter choked on air when he recognized him as the man that had been in his dreams as of late

Aaron is lowkey bristling that Elliot managed to pull you first

who was literally given whiplash when you told him that you knew he had feelings for you...

okay, yeah, he dragged you, Eli, and Ollie into his office after that and y'all had a long ass talk

later on, once y'all had figured how you wanted to go forward as a polycule

... Aaron immediately scolded Elliot for being so loose with covert rules and such not long after he'd told him

Ollie is likely the youngest of the polycule and absolutely milks it for all its worth, you and Eli coddle the fuck out of him and he lives for it - spending most of his time just whining and being fawned over

he's baby dammit

even your beloved former boss is unable to deny the soft spot he has for Ollie

lots of lovely, shared dreams and diverting nightmares

dates are mostly days in after y'all move in together, where Aaron and Ollie cook breakfast and you and Eli take care of chores

Eli registering you all as informed unempowered and watching the D.U.M.P. worker just get confused

"We know which is your brother, which of the others is your partner?"

"Yes."

"???"

board games nights as Oliver tries to explain the mechanics and rules of Scythe

all three of your boyfriends pulling you away from work or taking it off of you

sleepy snuggles on lazy weekends because Aaron refuses allow anybody to do work on your days off

You and Ollie being cheesy romantics and watching Aaron get so embarrassed, his face is practically boiling

Eli and Aaron bonding again