#fallen hero rebirth imagine

[trebuchet151]

They agreed to let Anathema take ONE photo with their polaroid camera. And they got tipsy enough to forget their jacket somewhere so Ortega's helping them keep warm, that's all. Don't make it weird.

Sequel to this post

Gonna start dropping links to songs from Corey's playlist that match the vibe of the art so here's Sugar by Sleep Token

[extreme-neutral]

Aight, FHR fandom!! I've a very important question for all of you!

(don't fear the cut, it's not long)

We all know what you find while investigating Ortega and "associates" on "fansites" in Rebirth, right?

RIGHT??

[beastking-golion]

FHR SPOILERS

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I avoided to Argent’s romance because I didn’t think I’d like it but I finally played it and I was so wrong I was so wrong, she is so girly pop murder fiend “I have morals but only sometimes” ass kicking nanovore-made cupcake eating god princess

[oldsoul--newmachine]

Body horror ahead. A while back I conceptualized what look the description "a monster garbed in forbidden science" might apply to. I couldn't begin to present it visually and think it might have greatest potential in abstract imagination. Here's what I wrote down in attempt to paint that picture: A bland sort of stormy villainous grey. Subtle ragged tears of orange and blue in disturbingly natural tones, constructed in functional but bizarre ways. Like a walking flayed, but the flesh is incomprehensible. A suit with subtle and disturbing hints made to reflect the body horror of self incarnate. Powerful, horrendously real and alive. Metal/carbon suit pieces- functional -but the gaps and the textures are flayed, shaved and burnt. Smooth to the touch but looking so molten, bruised and torn, thus revealing damaged shades of orange and blue as to look akin to flesh and blood. Oddly mechanical. The ugliest most horrifying amalgamation of clearly intentional and crafted damage. It flows along the lines of the scars. A helmet reminiscent of itself tearing away from itself, from nondescript features. Where is the face? Which layer is it? Joint gaps rubbed away ragged. Half a chest piece blended into carvings like real muscle and ribbing. Built so that the suit holds up but damage purposefully shows. Each hit breaks and warps the body, seeming to bleed beneath. A force-sensitive skinsuit beneath that shows the illusion of more and more gore wherever it is hit and revealed. A basic blue that turns sickly murky but clear orange. Everything it reveals that it shouldn't, becomes a fractal pattern of orange that's different with every battle. Orange like old blood. The most fearsome person in the room is also falling apart.

[currently-evil]

Nobody understand its not about the shelf, Its about the fact that stealing food in a primal act of gathering makes it taste Better.

And yeah Rowan immediatley tattles to Rangers that all their food were licked. Both he and Argent got banned form staff room for a while.

MASTERPOST

[choiceofcrow]

more scribbly lara(s) making blorbo faces

[schlozo]

The day Connor became a villain

His heartbreak scar is "Taylor Swift stole my man"

His motivation is "Get back at the woman who stole my man"

His rival is Taylor Swift

Stay tuned for the third part of Fallen Hero: Into the Taylorverse Trilogy

Coming whenever I feel like it

who gave me access to a phone at 6am in the morning

[schlozo]

Fallen Hero Revelations - New character's introduction

Spoilers under cut

I know Armadillo probably has normal eyes but I imagined them with black sclera and it's been stuck in my head ever since. Also midway through i realized that Armadillo looks like they're entering the avatar state here.

Also I love Armadillo more than anything. I'm so glad they're on the side of crime because if they asked me to give up my murdering ways I'd do it in a heartbeat. Not even Ortega could make me do that.

Fun fact: Armadillo is perfect and can do no wrong.

If Armadillo has a million fans, then I am one of them. If Armadillo has ten fans, then I am one of them. If Armadillo has only one fan then that is me. If Armadillo has no fans, then that means I am no longer on earth. If the world is against Armadillo, then I am against the world.

Fallen Hero by @fallenhero-rebirth

[dioti]

BACK AGAIN

a fallen hero: rebirth playlist about getting angry, switching sides and thriving as your new worst self.

play in order for the best listening experience!

[ youtube // spotify ]

tracklist:

weathers - always tired

lola blanc - angry too

des rocs - this is our life

rage against the machine - killing in the name

grandson - stigmata

madalen duke - how villains are made

oshins - darkside (ft. hael)

k.flay - run for your life

8 graves - beast

ksenia lewis - left for dead

margø - the other side

kevin mcallister - play dirty

barns courtney - rather die

the phantoms - fight for my survival

panic! at the disco - emperor's new clothes

imagine dragons - natural

jonny T, foreign figures - silver screen

set it off - catch me if you can

royal deluxe - i'm back

michael bublé - feeling good

[iwrite-sinsandtragedies]

@organized-chaotic-disaster Ahhhh gotcha gotcha!! I didn’t know there were any games with poly options tbh, that’s really nice to know 😭 and yeah, I imagine it must feel really jarring to have everything just take a complete 180 like that, with everyone ignoring the past romantic tension. Some kind of acknowledgment of it would be nice, but yeah, unfortunately I don’t see that ever happening 😭 so we’ve gotta rely on headcanons and fanfic, which sucks And thanks for responding to me!! I wasn’t really expecting a response tbh, but it’s really nice to talk about stuff like this ;v; I really enjoyed reading your thoughts!! Like I said, I didn’t know any games had poly options, so I learned something new o:

[original post]

No problem! I'm usually an absolute mess about talking to people myself - despite always wanting to - but, I've committed to doing what I want on this blog in particular and I want to talk about my favourite things with interesting people! So it was actually a pleasure to swap words with you!😊❤️

And yeah, I'd love for that to happen with OL but, I do understand why it likely won't be a thing.

On the topic of other games with polymance options though!

So, as I formerly mentioned. The game FH, or Fallen Hero is my primary example of a well done poly-capable romance route that's built into a good story driven game. It's a text-base 'build your own story' series that has a word count in the hundreds of thousands per book [steam link here] and is, in fact written by only one person!

It's, of course, the exact opposite type of story of Our Life, mind you😂and deals with a lot of dark subjects regarding mental health, dehuminization, trauma and morality/ethics. So, it's best to keep that in mind before choosing to play it. I would personally rate it at an 11/10 on a quality chart though! It's an absolutely superb game and the creator spends years putting their heart and soul into making sure each path you take is fleshed out and organic and that all your choices matter. They do actually have a tumblr here too, if you want to look into it more [fallenhero-rebirth] just be mindful that it might have spoilers.

As for other games with poly-romances, well... Unfortunately, most of those are purely in the 'R-rated maturity' kind of space. They're either dating sims with a heavy sexual focus or just straight up p*rn. Which is why I don't really include them so much, since it's kind of defeating the point of what I'd want poly-routes to be in, which is genuinely normal and story driven games like OL. Many of these games are simply PWP and so I wouldn't really consider them at all, unless you just wanted something spicy and exciting (which is absolutely cool! I'm such a ho, I have so many of these games honestly lmfao).

Overall, your best bet is really just searching for them😂it's not surprising at all that you didn't know they were an option because, truthfully, there aren't that many out there. I have heard the names 'Creme de la creme' and 'Tally ho!' thrown out there though, so maybe give those a peak and see if there's anything worth playing? I know nothing about them, honestly.

Personally, finding new games only partially scratches that itch for me, tbh. Only because it's not fulfilling my desire to have that polymance in the other games I wanted in the first place lol. I totally agree that it sucks having to live off of headcannons opposed to legitimate official content🥺Man, what I wouldn't give for that OL polymance... Still, at least looking into other games gives us an outlet and allows for some validation😭

[wonderlesscomics]

Green Lantern: Geoff Johns

Issues

- GL Rebirth 1-6

- GL 1-52

- GL Corps 1-47

Read January

Story: 8.5/10

So it’s hard to review because it’s an entire run and in retrospect I should have done a review for each arc but in reviewing this as a whole I really fell in love with the green lantern corp and it’s mythology. The spectrum of corps are fascinating and led to really well crafted stories and characters. The main cast is lovable and flawed and I cared deeply for all of them. The massive events hit like trucks with massive scale and scope, and the small stories in between all led up to amazing character development and revelations. Twists were abundant and well crafted, and plot points were layed out so far in an advance that it actually blew my mind that Geoff was allowed the time and resources to actually pull it all off. A complete reinvention of the character that is the foundation for this entire mythos for the rest of time.

Art: 7.5/10

The art in these titles varies wildly from not so amazing to stellar! Ivan Reis is the standout and is a lynch pin of the series. Whenever his name was on the book you knew you were going to get beautiful full page spreads, dynamic composition and sexy heroes and villains.

Special Notes:

- I can’t believe how many of the lanterns I’ve fallen in love with. Natu, Laira, Sinestro, Kilowag, Guy, Rayner, and so many more

- Geoff is so talented at setting up and paying off later on that it’s so inspiring to see such well crafted world building and dedication to long term storytelling

- The secret origins arc is fucking phenomenal and might be the greatest superhero origin story ever told

- The blackest night is one of the greatest comic events of all time. It was so powerful and I only wish I could have read it in the time it came out because I can’t imagine the impact it caused.

Overall Rating: 8.5/10

I honestly needed to take a break from this series it was ALOT of reading. Tons of spinoffs I didn’t list, 2 different concurrent series. But I will say it was worth it to learn and explore the foundation of a character. I will continue to read through this series and its conclusion. And I would love to read and explore the further mythos with this character into the new 52, and rebirth. I personally thank Geoff Johns for dedicating himself to this character and giving him real weight and depth, as with his entire mythology.

[increduloussausage]

im gonna rant to myself here i just like the formatting makes me nngh

Xie lian as a fool, (talked about in varied depictions of the fool, from contrasting backgrounds, talks about don qixote, the idiot, ivan the fool, etc) Xie lian as the fisher king, (parsifal)

Elaborate?

Transgression from naivety into self consciousness,

A fisher king wound is a wound that hurts but doesn’t kill

King fisher plagued with a fatal wound, yet fatality was proven futile. He was infertile, and his kingdom had fallen (just as xianle was damned to demolition, along with xie lian and his erectile dysfunction)

““A man must consent to look to a foolish, innocent, adolescent part of himself for his cure. The inner fool is the only one who can touch his Fisher King wound.”

Don quixote, quixotic, unable to distinguish reality from imagination. (jun wu????)”tilting at windmills” fighting imaginary enemies

And sancho pantha, (mu qing????) 

“Sancho’s realism contrast with his master’s idealism” AAAAAAAAAAA its tgem. Itrs them!!!! (xie lian and mu qing) the donkey can be feng xin. Lol

Fuck. the actual novel is sad… don qixote falls asleep, awaken by a dream, awakened from his madness, realising he’s spiralled down into insanity. And that he has wasted his life (lol jun wu) dies from an overdose of reality. And what did jun wu die realising? Actually idk, bro was relieved to find someone who couldve actually defeated him. 

Dsbkhdrfvgsk.j  

Ivan the fool leo tolstoy,

Ivan’s goodness piques the devil’s interest. Overcomes the devil, himself. Relies on his heart, his brothers relies on their mind. (i wish i was foolish) 

The idiot, fyodor dostoevsky, the prince is a fool. The price is an idiot. Paralleled to xie lian in the heavens. Prince myshkin, contrasts the world he lives in. he says what is on his mind, regardless of social setting “save the common people!” 

“The price assures that beauty will save the world!”

Always this fool who is the hero.

Fool, knows nothing of the world. And has no place in it.

The fool’s journey and the hero’s journey, defeat his “dragon�� (bai wuxiang) “treasure hard to attain” idk… about birth and rebirth. Return as ordinary, as xie lian does. Gasps “the fool is a wanderer, energetic, ubiquitous and immortal” XIE LIAN…..svbkgrdvb he is the most powerful of the tarot trumps. (trionfi, to trachotti, to tarot) (just info) journey to self realisation…

Carl jung… what does he say. Individuation!!! What is that. Omg… the fool is linked to the number zero. Why? Circular signifies infinity. Pleroma!! Ancient egyptian symbol of orouboros (tail devorurer) “one is all, all is one” fullness of being of past, present and future. God is an infinite sphere!! He is god.  Zero as in, no one believed in him anymore? He had no one!!! (hua chengzhu sit down you’ll be relevant soon….) (i hope….) 

Paradise. Bliss state of unconscious nature before falling into the reality of consciousness, the fool’s paradise, they call it. 

Learn about jungian psychology!!!! 

OMGGGGG XIE LIAN IS THE… what is it. THE tarot of marseilles, the butterfly one!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT HAS A FLOWER ON IT TOOVJHGJHBVNJHV>>><ML<ML<KM>>>.... Fool depicted as, insight over eye sight. (french tarot, fool) Okie. cool…. Cool….. Omh….. the rider wwaite tarot….. Is holding a flower. In his hand……….. One sword, one flower. Srvjhyrebslkf what does the cliff fall mean… hua cheng? Idk,,, fall from grace. While also BASKING IN his GLORY MOMENTS PRIOR? HNN WAIT…… pamela colman smith. Arthur edward waite, hermetic order of the golden dawn. Precursor of transformation….. Xie lian is the start of everything. Nothing would start without a fool. Bvnjhbfjjhnjhbn….. The idiot, dostoevsky, “geniuses seen as fool at the start of their career, at the end of them too” “beginner’s mind” (shoshin) “the soul demands your folly, not your wisdom” Car jung… xie lian. Xie lian… folly!!! Be foolish!!!! Omg. “it is the fear of uncertainty that scares many to the point of paralysis” good lord this video… (me and amina) rumination, < failure. Rumination, spends more time in imagination than reality. (quixotic….) failure is beyond your imagination. “In filth it will be found.” (xie lian) he keeps going. “I WONT CHANGE!!!!” 

Omg… dark side of the fool… the voice of conformity. Omg (use that now lol) omg.. We need to be conscious of the fool within, the start of the video said the wisest people are the fools who acknowledge they are foolish. The dark side is when we don’t. Child, half into the world. Madman, half escaped from it. The fool is an archetypal religious figure…. XIE LIAN IS THE HOLY FOOL. “is one who is willing to risk ridicule, scorn and rejection to pursue the path of truth and love.” not conformist out of fear, not needing to be defined by others. Be himself in all circumstances. “The most threatening to the authorities and powers” hehhehe. Saint Paul, “god has made foolish the wisdom of this world.” inferior function leads to the healing of fisher wound… (elaborate. Will do. At some point.) 

[thekrazykeke]

title: just keep breathing

fandom(s): fallen hero rebirth/retribution

pairing(s): wei chen x sidestep. ricardo ortega x sidestep. wei chen x ricardo ortega x sidestep. ricardo ortega x wei chen. 

playlist/song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMkz9JF7teY

rating: t+

summary: maybe it’s not about fixing what’s broken. maybe it’s about starting over and creating something better.

warning(s): pre poly relationship, comfort food, pining, mild spoilers for the alpha build, angst and hurt/comfort.

Listen. 

I played Fallen Hero Rebirth and rated it a solid 9, and the story initially left me crying my eyeballs out but mildly confused, wanting to understand things. So I replayed and replayed and replayed. I picked up things and the clues started fitting together. I paid for the Retribution alpha build and I’m still crying my eyeballs out at night over it but I wanted resolution. I wanted to give (one of) my character(s) a light at the end of the tunnel. 

So this is what it is. Or an attempt at it because FHR is really quite dark and not for the faint hearted. Those warning tags are not for show. 

Sidestep’s name is Tyndall Bowman in this one.

~

It happens on a Sunday. The last weekend before a new month started, technically.

Ortega frequently visits Chen’s apartment and brings food, lightly ribbing the other man for his lackluster kitchen space. Chen’s routine response becoming less and less exasperated each time. 

You think that he not so secretly fears that you’ll both starve or subsist off canned food and cheap takeout. ...Which probably isn’t a far off assumption, considering the implication day one of your temporary living situation.

It could be considered sweet, if it wasn’t so very funny. (You had to get your kicks somewhere).

Your legs are still broken. 

Progress is frustratingly slow. 

You’d tried to move to a schedule of crutches-only by the second week out of sheer boredom and the flat look Chen had leveled in your direction caused you to nix that idea stat. 

There’s a tension between Chen and you now. 

Not to say that there rarely isn’t tension, but that’s usually due to an aftermath of an argument. Now? Now, you’re aware of him. Aware of him in a way that you’d only been aware of Ortega.

Fucking hell.

Someone’s knee brushes lightly against yours, breaking you out of your reverie. You glance to the left and catch sight of Ricardo watching you with soft, worried eyes. Chen also watching, but less obvious in his concern, features more stoic, controlled. The three of you are in the living room, they are siting on the couch, you’re in your wheelchair. 

They probably asked you something and you were zoned out.

The lie is on the tip of your tongue, “I’m fine,” you mumble and grip your bowl which has half melted blueberry swirl ice cream and salted caramel cheesecake. Sweets are your kryptonite but Ricardo has pulled out your top favorites...

“You’re fine?” Ricardo scoffs, his tone skeptic. 

A muscle jumped in your jaw. “Yep, just fine,” you reply, using your spoon to scoop up some ice cream, take a bite and enjoy the flavor. Refusing to give an inch and let him win. 

The two of you had played this game many times, too many actually, and it usually ends with you being the one to fall for the prodding, and then you get angry, lash out. 

Walk away.  Only this time you can’t. 

Another scoff. “Typical. You do this every time, you know.” There’s a surprising amount of bitterness in Ricardo’s voice now. 

“Ricardo,” Chen starts to interject, the strain clear in his voice. “Tyndall. Stop.”

It’s too late though. 

Placing down the bowl on the nearest surface, freeing up your hands, you clench then unclench your fingers, trying to avoid cracking your knuckles. “And what about you, then huh, Saint Ortega?” The sneer on your face is ugly. “You’re always on about me being honest with my feelings and talking, but the truth of it is, you’re just like me, or worse!”

Ortega looks dumbfounded. As if he can’t believe you’d dare to throw the truth in his face like this, so obviously. He recovers quicker than you’d like, much to your annoyance, though. “...Maybe so,” he acknowledges, his voice softer. Enough to lull a more gullible individual into complacency or just anyone not paying attention. You know better. “That’s a topic we can revisit in a moment. I’m more curious about how long the two of you expect me to play the idiot here.”

Unwillingly, your eyes dart to Chen’s, then away. 

Not focusing on any particular point in the room. Does Ortega know that you’re Mastermind? Since when, and did Chen tell him? Or is he bluffing right now and he doesn’t know? Is he talking about something totally different than what you’re thinking about?

Quick! Think up an appropriate answer and throw him off the trail!

“....I don’t....know what you mean.”

That’s not what you should say!!

Chen sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.  He looks pretty much done with the both of you right now, not that you can blame him. “Be clearer, the two of you have a propensity for telling half truths which leads to the majority of these absurd arguments.” 

Ricardo winced and you feel the sting from that particular burn as well. 

“In response to your statement, though, no one is expecting you to play the fool.” He looks a little nervous, guilty. “ I... We’ve kissed.” There’s a pinch to his brow, the tips of his ears turning pink. “That wasn’t an example of being a good friend to you, kissing Tyndall and murkying the waters further when I knew the two of you were...” There’s a pause as he tries to find a word for what you and Ortega shared before you and he tentatively stopped antagonizing each other and bonded over Spoon. 

You snorted, lips twisting into a wry smile, “The phrasing of that sentence makes it sound as if I found it a chore to kiss you or something.” Chen cuts you an admonishing look which you temporarily ignore as you turn to glance at Ortega who’d been watching the byplay between you and Chen with an unreadable expression. For the nth time, you wish you could read his mind, and at the same time, you’re grateful that you can’t. 

“...He’s right though. It was an epically shitty thing to do, kissing your oldest friend, who’s probably had a crush on you since he’s met you, while we were kissing. Totally and unnecessarily complicated.”

He just looked at the two of you for a moment. Then Ricardo sighed heavily, running a hand over his face, wearily. “Esto es un desastre.”

You say nothing, staying quiet because honestly, you agree. This is a mess, and it was poorly handled, on all sides. You’d already spilled the beans about Chen having a crush Ortega before it got to this point because you sincerely thought the conversation should have come up properly over seven years ago, your ‘death’ should have been a nonfactor. 

They likely would’ve been a couple already if they weren’t such obtuse idiots.

“Okay... okay...” Ricardo seems to have come to a conclusion. He nods resolutely, turning all his considerably intense focus onto Chen who seems taken aback by it. Leaning forward into the other man’s space, slow enough that it’d be easy to shove him back, but of course Chen doesn’t. Ricardo’s hand went to the nape of his neck, lightly urging Chen forward, the other man obeying that silent request, and in the span of a breath, they’re kissing.

Your don’t avert your gaze, as much as you want to. 

This is a private thing, you shouldn’t look, shouldn’t stare like a pervert. 

‘Isn’t this what you knew would happen?’ Of course, your brain isn’t nice. 

This is what you wanted right, for them to get their act together. 

Humans falling in love with each other is normal and acceptable. (Although your education depicted of men and women falling in love, primarily). It happens all the time. 

Such emotion is a luxury a Re-Gene cannot afford, nor can they sincerely feel it, that’s what you were taught on the Farm. So resistant to the idea of going back to being treated as an unfeeling thing, your re-education had been particularly brutal.

“Whatever horrible thing your mind is telling you, it isn’t true.”

Once again caught off guard, lost in thought, you’re unprepared for Ricardo to kiss you. He tastes faintly of blueberry swirl ice cream and sweet tea, and maybe it’s your imagination, but maybe even a little bit like Chen. It’s that stray thought that has you jerk your head, trying to turn away from him. “W...what the hell, asshole?”

He snorted. “You know you sound really cute when you curse.” 

Baring your teeth, you snap, “Tomber d'une falaise!” Although the idiot clearly didn’t know what you said in French, basically telling him to fall off a cliff, it didn’t stop him from dramatically clutching at his chest, as if he’d been stabbed in the heart; he could probably guess it was at least an insult.

“Stop teasing him, Ricardo.” Chen admonished. Ricardo mock pouted. “I mean it. Can’t you see that he’s overwhelmed?”

“I am not overwhelmed!”, you vehemently protest.

“Out of your depth then,” Chen countered and before you could complain that it was pretty much the same thing, only with differing meanings, he continued on, “What our resident idiot is clumsily trying to show instead of explain, is that he wants both of us.”

“If you want a threesome, fine. It’ll have to wait, as I’m a bit physically impaired at the moment.” You’re almost surprised by the bitterness in your voice. 

Chen stared at you for a brief moment and then he braced both hands on either side of your wheelchair. Heart slowly turning over in your chest, oddly feeling as if you’re caught in the gaze of a hunter, you stubbornly keep eye contact for a second or two, but can’t maintain it for long. That doesn’t stop him from murmuring in your right ear, “Stop being so stubborn. Stop lying. You want this. To be in a relationship with both of us.”  A brief pause. “Correct?”

Fucking hell... 

Swallowing thickly, wondering the logistics of how that would work out. Wondering if you were about to once again make a horrible mistake. Then again, since you’d come back to Los Diablos, since Ortega found you again, that’s all you’ve been doing so far, haven’t you. Making mistake after mistake after mistake. 

“Yes.” 

As Chen’s left hand buried itself in your curls, taking control, tilting your head back, idly you wondered if the next time you hit the ground, if it’d hurt less. This is after a freefall into madness, it feels like, and twice as foolish. Yet you surrender, and you stop thinking, enjoy the kiss. 

[paladinofsol]

👁👁

(click for better quality)

[impossible-rat-babies]

prompt: dancing

fallen hero / 2.5k / chargestep (nb!sidestep + m!ortega) / pre-hearbreak / cw: allusions to self harm  / mostly below the cut

It should not be this difficult, Pollux thinks, biting his lip. But of course it has to be this difficult, it’s part of being with Ortega. In his mother’s cluttered kitchen while the gritty 80’s radio plays some oldies station in the living room and the overhead fan tries it’s hardest to cut through the summer heat that’s strong enough to smell. The window above the sink is open, the small herb plants and valance billowing in the wind.

Pollux scrapes more flour into the dough with one hand because his other is decidedly needed for other things.

Like holding hands. (disgusting).

Ricardo is humming along with the radio and it’s almost infuriating with the lazy smile he’s sporting. Busying himself with the sink just as an excuse to be close. Washing dishes, he said. His mother is going to be coming in from the garden soon and needs the sink cleaned, he said. He’s just being a considerate son, he said. (Bullshit).

It’s just an excuse to invade his space--give someone a hand and they’ll take the whole arm the saying goes--leave Pollux’s skin tingling. He can’t focus, too preoccupied on the hyper-focused thought of Ortega’s hand. It keeps him faltering. Not once, not twice, not three times, but over and over again as he kneads the dough. The touch is a good one, he keeps having to remind himself. It’s just a hand. It’s just Ortega’s hand--his thumb running over large knuckles and he forgets to breathe for a moment. Calls himself stupid for it and straightens up. And that’s all there is to this: just holding hands. No danger. 

Ortega’s emitters cool against his sweaty palms and the funny little rubber conductors where his fingerprints should be.

A few months after they first met, Pollux recalls falteringly asking if Ortega still had fingerprints underneath those little rubber conductors. Ortega had given him a curious look, an arch of the brow and a hesitant laugh. Like he was joking right? Most definitely joking, that was a good one, Step. It hadn’t been a joke and he still isn’t sure if he really has fingerprints under the little conductors.

He still teases him about asking, so Pollux figures he won’t know at this rate. Fucking jerk.

“You’ll get that song stuck in my head, asshole.” Pollux groans, looking over at the man and he gives him a smirk.

Ricardo turns back and sings instead, a smile on every note and he wiggles his shoulders. Pollux groans. The singing only gets louder over his groaning until the radio is drowned out and Pollux roughly elbows Ortega in the ribs.

“Shit—ow, Pollux...!”

“The radio doesn’t need any help, jackass.”

Pollux huffs at him, returning back to the dough in front of him with both hands this time. It’s easier kneading like this even though he feels the kicked puppy eyes of *first you elbow me and now you let go of my hand? How dare you!* boring into the side of his head.

“Don’t gimme that look.” Pollux glares without heat and Ortega wiggles his brows in a decidedly much worse expression than a kicked puppy. “Or that one--you’re disgusting.” He tacks on, seriously glaring and Ortega laughs.

“You like it--don’t lie to me ‘Lux.”

“I’m going to drown you in the sink, lover boy. Now scoot.”

Pollux dusts the flour off his hands on the apron Tia Elena decided he needed, and he picks up the ball of dough to dump into the greased bowl. He gives Ortega a light shove to the side and he clicks his tongue, moving around to Pollux’s other side.

“I thought you liked that song, ‘Lux. It’s California Dreaming.”

Pollux rolls his eyes, rinsing the flour off his hands.

“I do like it, just not when you decide to sing along like it’s karaoke.”

“You like karaoke though.”

“I don’t.” Pollux lies and Ortega knows it by the pointed way he stares and Pollux rolls his eyes. 

There’s a bit of flour clinging to his sleeves and Ortega lightly teased him ages ago about needing to roll up his sleeves. He received a withering glare in return at that--and every other time since Ortega bothers him about the sleeves. His forearms are only safe from the tattoos--but there’s still the scars. The fresh scabs, the newest bandaids and newer regrets. He can’t do that; not with Tia Elena just outside. (He can stand on his toes just barely to see her still out poking around the garden--the large sun hat bobbing between the tomato plants.)

Ricardo only gives him looks about it--the ones where he almost asks, mouth faltering and breath dying on the concerned questions before Pollux beats him to the chase with a sharp reminder to ‘keep his fucking mouth shut’ and he sharply rolls his sleeves back down.

He’s been forced to learn not to touch but Elena presses. And not physically.

Her mind is so loud.

So loud with concern, it bleeds out against his shields like a whispered yell and it crawls under his skin like warm water. She wants to help, she just wants to look out for him. She likes him so she worries. A trait her son shares and it grates. Has his teeth clenching to keep his boundaries and unclenching to remind himself he’s not in danger; she’s not dangerous to him. But, it still smothers him, chokes him under the weight like her dark brown eyes when she thinks he isn’t looking. Prying eyes all still feel the same and he’s still nothing but a deer in headlights.

Leaves his ears ringing and the palms of his hands itching. She’s got ideas about him, what she thinks this is all about--where he’s come and what he’s running from.

Pollux can’t tell her. Even about the small things. Even this one little shirt sleeve thing.

She’ll only worry worse--her fears will just get worse. She would want to take care of him and he can’t do that; Ricardo already does his fumbling bumbling best to care the only way he knows how. He can’t handle having more than one person be genuine about what he’s doing.

It’s hard enough for Pollux to look at, hard enough to do. Harder still to take care of himself--he only knows one way to do that.

Ortega’s still standing there, hand leaning against the counter with an appraising brow and Pollux grimaces.

“What?”

“You remember this song?” Ortega asks with a deceptively rotten smile he’s trying his damnedest to hide and Pollux listens.

Listens for all of two seconds before he groans loudly. The Beach Boys—I just had to be the fucking Beach Boys didn’t it?

“I hate you. So much.” 

Ortega disregards his vile tone, shimmying along with the music, creeping closer with a sly grin like a snake and he’s a mouse caught dead in that gaze.

“Ricardo…”

“Pollux, carino, come on…” 

It would be easy. Easy to duck out of Ortega’s reach and tell him that he isn’t doing this. Not this level of sheer embarrassment or even worse how close he already is—close enough Pollux can smell his cologne and the slight hint of sweat from being out in the garden earlier. There’s no uniform today—just a blush pink button up shirt that goes far too well with his tanned bronze skin. The top two buttons are even left undone, sleeves rolled up and a sparkling gold chain resting against his collarbone.

He’s aware—painfully aware in all the best and worst ways Ortega brashly invades his space. Steps into his bubble, looks--oh how he looks at him with those dark brown eyes far too intense for their own good--and dares to touch him. Dares for Pollux to touch him back at times, a slick grin like this is all just a teasing game. Like sticking a finger in an electric socket. The way his neck turns, how he’s looking at him like that, dark brown eyes too intense for their own good and oh Pollux wishes the earth could swallow him up but he’s trying his absolute damndest not to dissolve into an embarrassed puddle.

Ortega’s got no right to look at him with that look.

The hand that touches his waist wouldn’t have surprised him if he had already seen it and let it happen—fuck he let it happen and he lets it happen now as Ortega puts another hand on his waist and starts rocking him back and forth too.

“R-Really?” Pollux asks, voice cracking like it started to a few months ago and Ortega hums.

“Come on, Lux—this is classic 1988 Beach Boys. The good old days.”

“Weren’t you only six years old?”

Ortega hushes him, bobbing to the beat and he insists on dragging Pollux back and forth even as he grips the rim of the sink.

“If Margaritaville comes up next I am going to stab you.” Pollux threatens, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, white knuckled and stiff in Ortega’s hold.

“Pollux...”

“I have no idea where your mother finds these damn radio stations--”

“Pollux.”

“They’re classics, but--”

“Lux, carino--hush..”

Ortega cups under his chin and leans his head back against his chest so he’ll look at him. Pollux almost curses at him--if nothing else but to stop his throat from choking up and he hates how Ortega can feel him swallow. He can see how red his cheeks and feet the heat off his face and there’s no excuse--

Fuck. Ortega deserves to be punched.

Ortega presses a kiss to his forehead and Pollux looks past his shoulder--doesn’t meet his searching eyes.

“There’s no need to get worked up--you’re alright.” He mumbles against his skin.

“Says you, jerk face.” He still huffs and Ortega sighs, rustling a stray curl that sticks to his dark red cheeks. It’s definitely not alright--not at all and he takes a deep breath to keep his heart from rushing like a rabbit in his chest. 

“Pollux…” His voice warmed with laughter, the chuckle felt in his chest.

“Oh fuck you.” He grumbles, pulling his face out of his grip to continue washing his hands despite the continued clinging. A press of another kiss to the crown of his head and the weight as Ortega leans against him, chin in his hair.

“At least she didn’t pick jazz.” Ortega says after a long moment into his hair and Pollux groans loudly, his cheeks flushing again. That was just last week, the memories still far too fresh and he’s dead set on embarrassing him to death, isn’t he? 

Fucker.

“Oh I really would have punched you. Stole your bike and left. Good luck getting home” Pollux bites back with a bit too much force. Ortega can’t see his face to know just how serious he’s being.

“Mierda, you wouldn’t steal my poor bike would you?” Ortega bemoans and Pollux snorts bitterly. “It’s the vintage one, Pollux. I don’t even think your feet could reach the pedals.”

Oh that’s it. That was a low blow and Pollux leans his head back, a grimy angry look scrunching his brow.

“I fucking hate you, Ricardo Ortega.”

“Hey, what are you two getting into?” Tia Elena pokes her head back in, the screen door slamming shut as it’s always done. Looking between the two of them with furrowed brow, her hands are full of tomatoes and peppers from the garden, apron gathered in a makeshift basket. Ortega quickly backs out of Pollux’s space and he takes several deep breaths to calm down. 

“Nothing, Mama--honest!”

“Oh you’re a lying sack of shit--” Pollux grabs the nearby dish towel, hitting Ortega with it.

“Language!” She quickly scolds and Pollux bites his lip to keep more words at bay.

“He hit me, Mama, and you’re worried about that?” Ortega protests and Pollux pantomimes hitting him again.

“Hush both of you.” She gives them both a withering look, the only one that mother’s are good at making and Pollux huffs, tossing the towel onto his shoulder. At least she got him off her back, the Beach Boys fading off into the background.

“Sorry.” He grumbles even if he’s not that sorry at all. “Your son is a lying sack of crap though.”

“You told me you like my singing though, ‘Lux.” Ortega gives him that hurt puppy look again and Pollux can feel Tia Elena’s affectionate exasperation on the edge of her mind--the deep familiarity of this back and forth; it tastes as far back as childhood and Pollux shakes his head. She tells her son to scoot and he slides back; he doesn’t go far, just on the other side of Pollux and now he’s stuck between the two of them.

“I like it when you’re not obnoxious about it. Or dramatic.” Pollux looks up at him briefly, brushing the flour off his hands.

“How else am I supposed to sing along? I’m just having fun, ‘Lux.”

“Well maybe you can have fun singing along with the radio in the living room--you know where the radio is.” Pollux shoots back and Tia Elena scoffs, setting the tomatoes in the sink to wash them.

“He is right, Mijo.” She gives her son a pointed look. “Now quit terrorizing Pollux and get me a pot of water.” She shoos him off and Ricardo dutifully turns away. Pollux turns back to wipe away what’s left of the flour off the counter, looking over at Elena just as she gives him a knowing look.

Pollux rolls his eyes, face scrunching up and she tsks, shaking her head with a smile. 

“Here: cut little x’s in the tops of these. Just through the skin.” She picks up a cutting board and a knife, setting them both down in front of Pollux. “They’ll need blanching.”

She doesn’t say anything, her mind just a quiet tickle in a corner of his mind--like earlier when the sunlight caught the back of his neck while they meandered through the garden--as she hums. Pollux sighs out another tired deep breath, picking up the knife.

“You know,” She leans in close to say, plucking the stems off the tomatoes before she washes the dirt from off, the sink rich with the smell of cut tomato stems. “Margaritaville is a good song.” She’s trying not to laugh and Pollux groans, heaving a grumpy sigh.

“You’re just as bad as your son.” Pollux mumbles back and Elena snorts.

“Better than the Beach Boys.” She amends and Pollux can’t help but smile and shake his head, setting the tomatoes off to the side. He pauses, giving a second to roll up part of his sleeves--enough so that they don’t get wet.

Elena looks, but she stays quiet. Even her mind is soft, busy with the tomatoes; there’s no need to ask, no reason to go prying; more than him being okay, she wants him to be safe. She wants the best for him. He doesn’t deserve it, not really. Not if they both knew the truth; but…maybe for now. If Elena doesn’t ask again and Ricardo doesnt sing again--he’ll let himself feel a bit of quiet. Some security--safety.

Ortega brings the pot back over and there’s no cutting back and forth as he fills it, or when Pollux puts the tomatoes in the water with a soft thank you from Elena. And his sleeves stay rolled up past his wrists.

[allens-chocolate-dreams]

If you're still doing these, pros and cons of dating Matheus?

I thought I had already answered this ask, but apparently I didn't, so! Of course ^_^ Let me see...

Pros:

He's very committed to what he sets up to do, and very loyal once he decides he wants to. He has an "all or nothing" approach, so either he goes all the way through with things or he doesn't. You won't have to worry about half-hearted commitment.

Will notice a lot of details about you and use that to make things comfy for you, which means he'll know just the right amount of pressure to apply when hugging or holding hands with you, if you've been together for a while. Sensory heavenly.

He'll make every baked good you could ever want, just for you. Cookies, pastries, various desserts, anything you could ask for, and you won't even need to ask beforehand once he gets to know your tastes. Might even teach you some recipes! He's a good teacher and will adapt how he explains stuff to make sure you get it.

So sweet and supportive. You can count on him with your problems, he'll support you in any way he can.

Would love it if you asked him for fashion tips. He'll respect your personal style while also helping you with what would work best for what you're looking for. Could be a fashion designer if he wanted.

Good listener. Not just in the sense of listening to what you say and paying attention, but also in the sense of trying to listen before judging, even when he's angry. Unless you happen to argue about something he's sensitive about, it's not common for an argument to escalate... unless you're Ortega.

Always prepared for various situations. Do you ever need a tissue, pen and paper, gloves, extra snacks, or even a hair tie in the middle of a walk? Your problems are over, because he always carries a lot of stuff with him in case he needs it. And if you happen to need something often, he might even start carrying it around just for you. Won't admit it, tho.

If you promise you won't laugh... he might read poetry for you. Maybe. One day. If you promise not to make fun of him.

Cons:

Represses his infodumping because he doesn't want to be annoying :( Please ask him about his interests, I promise you'll learn at least five new recipes.

Despite time being one of his special interests, he has no sense of time at all. Ask him what time it is and he'll probably think it's 2:00 PM when it's 4:00 AM. So you can't count on him to remember the time when doing tasks, if you don't set up an alarm or warn him that it's late, he'll probably just keep doing said task uninterrupted until the end.

His "all or nothing" approach also means he has difficulty stopping something he's already started doing, even if it's hurting him. He's extra hesitant to make decisions because of that; he knows he won't be able to stop easily once he starts something. He mostly would rather not risk this kind of situation. You'll probably have to talk with him about that eventually, because it's very likely it'll affect your relationship in some way.

Prone to bite himself until he bleeds when feeling too dissociative. His chewable necklace helps a lot, but if he's in too much of a bad place emotionally, he might not remember to use it and ending up hurting himself badly.

Has difficulty recognizing when his own loyalty stops being good for him. Because he can't easily stop things once he starts, he's prone to push his own limits beyond what's healthy once he commits to someone to make them happy, which is. Bad.

Also because of that, it's a 50/50 chance of whether he'll talk with you about a problem, or just endure whatever discomfort he's feeling.

Prone to overthink situations so much he'll eventually exhaust himself and go "you know what I don't care anymore" and just do whatever he feels like at the moment. Like I said, his "all or nothing" approach can be either a blessing or a curse.

Thank you for the ask!