neotropical

[neotropical]

leopardos​:

“you got it, boss.” he says, yanking the black nitrile gloves off his hands and tossing them to a nearby bin. he lends the bodies no further regard, no ounce of respect – stripped bare but for the utmost necessary fabric, they shiver unconciously in the cold of what’s essentially a metal prison cell, the skin bruised, lacetared, torn, the dermis beneath inflamed raw. 

he steps over the mass of limbs carefully and lends natalia a small smile. 

“you always say that regardless of my weight. i swear, when did you become our third mother?” he asks that with sarcasm, albeit with warmth tucked safely underneath. “comeré, pero solo porque los tuyos son mis favoritos.”

“ay por favor, si hasta te veo las costillas.” natalia laughs, clapping him on the shoulder and shaking him, as if to prove her point. “pareces una maraca, elián. you’re not on any weird diets, are you?” 

they make it out of the cell soon enough, with natalia leading him as they navigate the maze keeping the prisoners separate from the main wing. a necessary precaution, to keep all dangerous individuals sealed away from prying eyes, not too far, but not too close either.

“we got bollos too, so you can take some of them home, for breakfast. con café, como te gustan.” she smiles when they reach the busy kitchens, the smell of spices permeating the air in a familiar scent. it’s a sight that makes her heart swell, to hear the laughter from behind the pans and the pots, watch the children run past as they curiously peek at what the adults are preparing. a full house is a happy one, is what she always says.

“you will be our taste tester today, so wash your hands first.” she wastes no time in grabbing a plate for him, filling it to the brim with arroz con pollo, tajadas, and of course, a decently sized tamal.

[neotropical]

leopardos​

he scowls at the insolent nickname, staring at the kitsune’s hand as it comes and goes. he releases jun at his following statements though, dropping his weight and immediately reaching for the unconcious bodies and hauling them over his shoulders. they might be too heavy for a normal beastman, but shiro is everything but normal.

once within the safe darkness of the alley, he tips them against the dumpster and gets to work: unbuttoning their shirts, unbuckling their belts, pulling their shoes. he has no time to even be bashful of stripping next to the other man and thus he wastes none. turns out the lion’s clothes fit him just fine, but he can imagine the other uniform almost swimming on jun’s slender frame. even the smaller size might be too large.

ain’t that just grand. they will be beyond lucky if they don’t raise suspicions. 

“hurry up, fox,” he commands, buttoning the dark gabardine shirt that ties the complete security guard look together. “before they start looking for us.”

does jun stare as the wolf hauls the unconscious guards over his shoulders like it’s nothing? yes, he does. even if he can’t see muscles rippling underneath the heavy fabric of his trench coat, jun still stares. he can appreciate how effortless shiro makes it seem, feats of strength come so easy to him, and jun sometimes wonders if he does them mindlessly or if he’s trying to inadvertedly show off.

he follows after the wolf with a secret smirk, pretending to avert his eyes as he too strips and dons the guard’s clothes. the fox catches glimpses of bare skin here and there, enough to make his imagination wander, but his face remains calm and impassive whenever he feels shiro’s eyes on him. this is business after all, he can entertain such thoughts at a later time, when keeping a poker face isn’t essential to the task.

looking down at himself, jun adjusts the clothes to better fit his slender frame before rolling his eyes. a waste of effort, seeing how he pretty much embodies a caricature. this won’t do. with a snap of his fingers, smoke envelops his frame, until he steps out looking like an identical copy of the unconscious guard.

“this is just an illusion, and will fade if anyone touches me, so keep that in mind.” while he’s very particular about sharing details on how his illusory powers work, he figures that the wolf should be aware of any limitations. mantaining an actual corporeal illusion drains him far too much, which would put him at a disadvantage should they have to fight their way out. better to keep things light and easy for the time being.

“from the intel i gathered, the backdoor entrance seems to have the least eyes on it. shall we go, mr. hardrail?” he snickers at the name tag on shiro’s chest, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. “and is it just me, or are those pants actually tight on you?”

[neotropical]

“i’m surprised you sound surprised.” charmaine teases, a knowing smile on her lips. “with our network growing bigger, we need a different base of operations. a party house, if you will.” she flickers a clawed finger down the tablet’s screen as he holds it, humming as she examines the available options. 

“i want our private château to remain that: private. no interruptions, no curious cats prowling about, trying to find a way in when we’re just trying to relax."  she leans into him with no regard for personal space. “cleaning blood off wool carpets is quite vexing, as you know.” her finger continues trailing up his wrist and arm, until it stops right where his heart beats underneath her curious palm. the gesture is one she enjoys, to directly feel the raw power pumping through his veins. almost soothing, if she allows herself to admit it. a reminder of his warmth.

“i found some good options, but the final say is yours. go wild.” she looks up at him then, feline in the way her lips curl and sharp canines come to greet him.

@neotropical​ / closed.

“a second château. surely you are toying with me,” he states rather than asks, an eyebrow quirked, a half smile tentative pulling at his lips. before his eyes, the slim tablet she had handed him, showcasing listings for various estates in france. though they ranged in size and location, they were all equally opulent beyond belief – nothing lower than seven digits in sight. “what would we even do with it?”

[neotropical]

jun blinks, actually caught off guard for once. “hey, hey. pretty boy, you’re panicking.” he snickers, a lopsided grin on his lips as he lets the taller man fuss over him. it’s not too bad, having someone worry over him so frantically. he could get used to it even, but he knows better than to let himself hope.

“actually, i had it under control. you jumping in only made them angrier." he procures a pair of key cards and IDs out of thin air, as easy as breathing. go in, distract the guards, steal anything useful and knock them out when they’re not looking. would’ve gone smoothly if only one of them wasn’t a previous... client of his, and had a grudge to settle after the fox knocked him out and robbed him blind a few months ago.

jun deposits the stolen items inside the wolf’s front pocket with an angelic smile, patting it gently. “i’m fine, a few kitty cats ain’t enough to take me down, wolfie.” he does catch the way shiro seems almost reluctant to let him go, which makes a strange feeling settle in the base of his stomach. one he dutifully ignores, opting to shrug it off instead.

yeah, no. he’s totally not thinking about how warm and big shiro’s hands are. uh, not at all.

“before we start the costume party, help me drag them towards the dumpster. we gotta hide the evidence first, silly.”

@neotropical​​ / closed.

“vega, you’ve got to be more careful!” he admonishes in what’s almost a low growl, hands yanking jun into uprightness at the same time as he examines frantically for wounds in the neon-lit night. fortunately, there seems to be only long tears on the fox’s clothes and a handful of nasty scratches peppered throughout his body, but nothing that warrants true concern. “those lions could’ve alerted the other guards and ruined this whole op. had i been a second too slow i would be putting up with your dead body right now!”

what they have instead – a pair of brutish felines knocked out cold in the alley adjacent to the warehouse they were meaning to infiltrate – had most certainly not been part of the itinerary, but now they had to think quickly before someone else stumbled upon the dreadful scene, catching them.

“let’s take their clothes,” he decides aloud, panting still from the effort he’d just exerted, rivulets of steam trailing after every word. “pretend we’re guards.” 

just a second after declaring this, he remembers to let go of jun. though some might argue still that it was a second too long.

[neotropical]

“keep them sedated. water and food once a day, until marcelo returns.” natalia speaks simply, eyes hard, as she surveys elian’s handiwork for any missed details. as meticulous as expected, there truly is nothing else he can extract from them. not for now, at least. whatever marcelo decides to do with them, it’s his decision alone, and she will ensure el regente has ample access to the disgusting pair of weasels.

“you’ve done enough, thank you." her eyes soften once they land on him, an amicable smile upon her lips. it’s like the battered and bloodied bodies at her feet have vanished, out of sight and out of mind, not a shred of mercy for those underserving. “luckily for you, we’ve just finished preparing the first batch of tamales. come with me, you look like you’re starving.”

@neotropical​​ / closed.

“for how long should i keep them alive?”

he asks that question in much the same tone he uses to ask about someone’s new haircut, or what they should get for dinner. it bears as much weight on his mind as those pleasantries, gray eyes completely blank on all but the most languorous sort of attention. 

“it’s not like they have much to offer, but marcelo might want to talk to them anyways, when his spiritual retreat concludes.”

[neotropical]

“is that a bad thing?” rafael is genuinely curious, not because of any ulterior motives or interests, but because he values her comfort over anything else. “i don’t really mind.” he smiles, teasing.

but beyond the teasing, flor is one of his best friends... so if people saying those things about their relationship bothers her, then he will make sure there are no misunderstandings. 

“but seriously, i can tell ‘em to keep their assumptions to themselves, if you want.”

rafael doesn’t mind the gossip or people talking about him behind his back, really couldn’t care less about what they have to say, but he knows flor would much rather keep a low profile. if it’s for her, he can make the effort to clear it up.

@neotropical / closed.​

“that makes the third person that thinks you’re my boyfriend. i mean, just from today.” her eyes bug out, exasperation as second nature to her as breathing. 

even then, she’s not usually this mouthy, but we’re in confidence, here, rafael among the rare few who has the privilege of seeing flor past the reserved outter layer.  “it’s 2021, but it’s like we’re frozen in time when it comes to stuff like that, don’t you think?” just because her first instinct when something startles her is to cling to rafael’s arm, does not mean she wants him like that! 

[neotropical]

in honor of gaylloween i gotta talk about the differences between horror concepts in warm climates vs. cold climates

cold climate horror is focused on despair on a psychological level. the cold, and vast expanses of frigid, lifeless scenery, force the human mind to become hyperaware of concepts such as loneliness and desolation. it’s not only limited to physical locations, but the absence of warmth has a very specific effect on the human psyche that heightens fear. it’s why space horror is very much related to the cold, how these technologically advanced, albeit frigid and lifeless environments evoke the same aesthetics and emotional reaction as being stuck somewhere in the middle of a particularly bad winter. cold climate horror brings forth long-buried primal fears that we thought were long forgotten. time stands still. you are alone.

warm climate horror is focused on altering reality and physical matter. overwhelming fear of pain, of senses failing to recognize changes in the surroundings, or the mind breaking down. it’s brutal not only because it’s physically painful and overwhelming, but because realizations are forced upon you and time seems shorter, the total opposite of cold climate horror. the fear blooms from the inability to control a wild, everchanging environment that does not bend to human will. it’s not knowing what to expect next, it’s anxiety and instincts taking over, and survival seeming attainable but out of reach at the same time. time does not stand still, and nature is as much of a friend as it is an enemy. you are not alone, but is it good company?

[neotropical]

The hunger in her alone could swallow up every God, every woman, every man, every person, the whole universe.

Nikita Gill, from “Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths & Monsters,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[neotropical]

armsdealing‌:

the god stares intently at her reaching hand, his eyes following her fingertips as they graze naked, scorching skin. then they move onto her eyes and narrow while she speaks. here’s the law of revolt herself, using language like friends and favors, and fooling nobody - but clearly enjoying it nonetheless, as demonstrated by her blithe disposition. he’s about to dismiss this entirely when he sees the serpents; certainly they wouldn’t be here if this were just a preamble to some casual sex.

… and true enough to that hunch, she mentions the sightless being that’s known to give her problems from time to time. his brows raise, his voice cool and blunt. “huh.” he puts the cloth in his hands to use, drying off the sweat running down his shoulders onto his biceps, the whole time still looking at her with an intensity that would make most uncomfortable. “you want me to track ‘em, that it?” he’s used to tasks like this, and she’s not the only being that’s ever requested his skillset. the poor bastard could be in any realm – could even be in any other reality. and as powerful as deities can be, they often lack the patience of a proper hunter, or they just don’t have the time; enter him. “or do you want me to bring him to you –”

Her finger is on his lips in a second, effectively silencing him. But more than that, it’s an excuse to touch him. “Nothing of the sort, actually.” Her smile falls, adopting a more business-like disposition. But her gaze retains an intensity equal to his own. “He will come to you. And he will pull the threads of fate in order to manipulate you.” She waves her hand, releasing him and turning around, taking in their surroundings. It’s exactly the kind of place where you’d expect to find someone like him. A repetitive routine, as if he’s bound. And he is, in more ways than one. Which makes him vulnerable, more than he would care to admit. 

When she speaks again, she’s looking at his hands. “He may not be willing to go against me as he is now, but he’s resourceful. Many have fallen for his promises, all of which sound too good to be true." She’s closer to him now, enjoying the shared body heat. It’s indeed rare for her to dole out warnings in person, but special cases, such as this one, require her full attention. “So, consider this both a friendly request, and a warning.” The spell is broken then, and time flows as it normally would. Her lips curve into another smile, this time more genuine than the last. She lets the silence between them settle, allowing him to mull it over at his own pace. 

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Fenrisúlfr.”

[neotropical]

armsdealing‌:

because i missed you – his features crinkle at the poke and just as quickly soften under the sway of her words. the rum flares in his throat but it doesn’t stop him from smiling. it’s been a while since they’ve talked, let alone since they’ve seen each other, and she still remembers exactly what he likes. it comforts him.

“i might have,” marcelo concedes, his voice all molasses and silk, but underneath it all: something different, something tender. it doesn’t sound as happy as it could – and his next set of words strike more accusatory than flirtatious: “i was worried, mostly,” he says, not directly at her but at the glass in his hands, avoiding her gaze.

Her hand is on his cheek now, but in a much more intimate gesture. Her thumb moves of its own accord, gently touching the skin, moving his chin towards her so he can face her. “Marcelo.” His name is a sweet whisper, and she sets her glass on the table, giving him her undivided attention. “I know this time I was gone for far longer than either of us would’ve liked.” 

She pauses, as if considering her next words carefully. “And for that, I apologize." There’s a subdued sort of melancholy in her apology, but it’s simply because in this time, in this life, she can’t tell him anything. And maybe, it’s better that way. “You are on my mind at all times, whether I’m here or on the other side of the world. Never doubt that.” Her face is closer to his now, and she kisses his lips gently, briefly tasting the rum on his warm tongue. “I’m here with you right now, and I’m okay. Isn’t that what matters?”

[neotropical]

“When has that stopped me before?” He’s no stranger to her presence, not here or anywhere else, but she finds the reaction amusing nonetheless. There’s no bite to his tone, and she knows him well enough to discern that he’s in one of his quieter moods. "Other gyms don’t have what I’m looking for, unfortunately.” Carmina closes in on him, an amiable, if not double-edged smile on her lips. 

She’s razor sharp in her movements, placing an open palm on his shoulder in greeting. But the gesture itself is gentle, almost intimate, a complete contrast to her usual incisiveness. It’s gone before he can even react, and with that, reality fizzles out just the slightest bit. Just enough for prying eyes or ears to be kept in the dark. 

“I’m here looking out for an old friend. In matters that concern us both.” It doesn’t particularly matter to her if he considers her a ‘friend’ or not. Whether the word friendship can even describe their relationship is up in the air, but what is she if not the Patron Law of strays? “You know I never leave a favor without a reward.” She smiles, and there’s a glint of red scales sliding around her neck, gone in an instant, hidden by the fur of her coat. He’s familiar with the vipers, any immortal is, and the sight is enough to provide the backdrop for her request. “A certain eyeless thing is brewing trouble, and I find it quite insulting that they won’t address me directly.” She sighs, as if disappointed. “I was wondering if you could, perhaps, look into it? Keep an eye out?” It’s a mean laugh, she knows, but she’s not a god for a reason.

@neotropical​ / don’t u say anything.

fenrir’s aware of her presence long before he turns to see her, long before he can hear the deity’s inaudible steps – and it comes down to her smell, an unmistakable, sweet and burning scent that turns his tongue idle inside his mouth. overworked muscles swell as he sets down the weight plates back on their racks, his chest rising and falling in heavy exhales, and he seems more indifferent than offended by the visit, more aloof than aggressive – an odd response for a god that tends to dislike everyone, regardless of whether they belong to his pantheon or not. 

still, that doesn’t mean he’ll be warm, or play nice.

“place’s closed, didn’t you read the sign?” raul ocasio owns this gym and the two locals on each side. he likes to come here at least once a week, and do so alone. she probably knows this. probably timed this just so they were alone in the vast building, as if that would make things safer. finally he turns to see her, head tilted expectantly. “there’s other gyms nearby that you can go to.”

[neotropical]

Love turned me into a liar / Lies turned me into a god

Elaine Kahn, “ROMANCE,” Romance or the End: Poems

[neotropical]

John David Washington in Christopher Nolan’s Tenet.

[neotropical]

thrum, v: 

we were lying in bed next to each other (fingers tangled together, legs tangled together) and you said you could see my pulse under the skin at my throat. what you couldn’t see was how it was flying, faster, faster, faster – a hummingbird trapped under my skin, and you, the flower –

a late birthday gift for @neotropical 

[neotropical]

mars is still a soft red candle on night’s thin sheet it’s a good day to end a war since that man did what he did the boy’s been quiet, scarred by a false god’s cross, but Lord – 

a late birthday gift for @neotropical

[neotropical]

tengo hambre, hambre de tu piel de tu lengua de tu carne ardiente en mi garganta. muero de inanición, qué hacer qué hacer con esta hambre esta sed esta fatiga de no tenerte.

a late birthday gift for @neotropical 

[neotropical]

multimuse prompt

tell the audience who your ‘flagship’ muse is (the one you use the most?) and describe them as if they were the protagonist of a YA novel. 

i tag @armsdealing @slickpoet @isolctions @apearlwrites @tribeof @amelorates​ and anyone who sees this and wants to try!!!