#palamedessextus

[captainskells]

Saint Paul - depiction of character from Nona the Ninth of the Locked Tomb Series

[trillgutterbug]

i have Questions about both those narcos fics but call amado maybe... hello 👀

call amado maybe is the result of @lingua-mortua and i (i think she named it actually, because she’s very funny) trying to figure out the sequence of events in canon between amado and pacho first meeting each other at that very fraught summit with miguel, where amado is very clearly uncomfortable and doesn’t like him much, and then their next interaction, which is amado throwing miguel’s crusty ass directly under pacho’s huge oncoming bus. like what happened in there?? how did they decide to trust each other? when did they talk?? how’d pacho even broach the topic? and we determined that a) pacho likes phone sex, b) amado likes attention, and according to the rules of algebra, a+b=69. and in the process of these things being true, there needed to be about 30k of pacho very seductively convincing amado that a lil dick is good for him! needless to say, i never finish anything, so it’s been languishing in my narcos folder for like a year, but. it’s one i poke at every once in a while bc we’ve got a big doc of notes and Thots on the subject, and it’s pretty compelling shit. HOWever, it’s such a clusterfuck of logistics and details, i’d have to rewatch all of mexico and take copious notes, which like. aint nobody got time to suffer through that much miguel angel. anyway, here’s the first scene.

“Amado Carrillo Fuentes,” said the voice on the line. 

Amado blinked. “Hello…?” He knew that voice, the warm, flip familiarity of the words. It made a little alarm bell ring in the back of his head. Belatedly, the pieces clicked. He scowled over his shoulder at Aguilar, who had summoned him for the phone call without saying who it was. Aguilar wasn’t paying attention, whistling as he rummaged in a filing cabinet. Amado was on his own. He braced a hand on the desk, ducking his head. Something told him to keep this conversation quiet. “Señor Herrera.”

Pacho made a soft sound of tutting disappointment. “Are we not on a first name basis?”

“I don’t know, are we?” 

A chuckle. “Oh, I think we should be.” 

Amado resisted the urge to check over his shoulder again. Aguilar was a jackass, and certainly not above eavesdropping, but the defensive prickling of Amado’s nerves had everything to do with who was on the other end of the call, not who was in the room with him. “If you say so.”

The smile was audible in Pacho’s voice. “I do.” 

Although it was cooler in the trailer than out under the noon sun, Amado was still sweating, damp down the length of his spine. He plucked at the open collar of his shirt, trying to summon a breeze. “What can I do for you?”

“Excellent question,” said Pacho. There was an odd noise in the background, shrill, echoey with distance. A whistle? “Your new airstrip in Chiapas, have you broken ground yet?”

Amado hesitated. “Last week.” There was no reason not to answer truthfully, was there? If things went according to Miguel Ángel’s clusterfuck of a plan, all their business with Cali would hinge on Chiapas before long. Much sooner rather than later, in fact. Amado grimaced, rapping a knuckle on the edge of the wooden desk to be safe. "Why? Are you changing the schedule on us?" 

"Of course not." Pacho's tone was so soothing it made Amado scowl harder. “Félix said as soon as possible, didn’t he?”

Amado shut his eyes. They stung with sweat. He pressed the heel of his palm into them, one after the other. “He did.”

“And I promised to deliver.” 

More noise in the background, this time shouts and hollering, although they lacked the edge of implied violence. It was strangely familiar. “Are you at a game?” Amado blurted. 

A second of silence, punctuated by what Amado recognized as another whistle blast. “Just about to go on the field,” said Pacho.

Amado blinked his eyes clear, surprised. “You’re playing?” 

“Center forward.”

Amado tried to picture it. Pacho Herrera - infamous in his slick suits and meticulous hair, his pristinely shining shoes, his reserved cunning - sweating and muddy on a football field. It was probably a vanity project, one of those honorary positions on a purchased team where the defenders kept Don Pacho from getting a scraped knee at the cost of their own heads. “Huh,” said Amado.

“Do you play?”

Amado barked a laugh before he could stop it. “No, man. I have better shit to do.” Too late, he could have strangled himself, but Pacho only laughed as well. 

“Fair enough. But do you watch?”

Amado shrugged. He finally glanced over his shoulder. Aguilar was frowning at a fat folder opened in his hands, mouth moving as he read. “Sure, sometimes.”

More hollering, more whistle blowing. “Chiapas,” said Pacho.

“Yeah, right, Chiapas. What about it?”

“I’m sending someone to liaise with your crew there. He’ll be arriving Wednesday.”

“Uh,” said Amado. A strange, defensively guilty sensation came over him - jumpiness like a teacher had told him to open his locker for inspection even though he knew it contained no contraband. “What for?”

Pacho made a little hmm sound, a dismissive moue. “It’s nothing personal. This is a large shipment Félix will be handling for us, and assuming it goes well, not the last of its kind. Chiapas will be important for both our businesses, going forward. My partners and I would like to have first-hand knowledge of it. We don’t want any easily avoidable incidents, do we?”

Amado frowned. What kind of incident could happen in Chiapas that the Cali cartel could possibly care about? As Pacho had reminded them in Panama, if anything happened to the coke after it left Colombia, the consequences were on Félix’s head alone. Well, not alone. Amado could easily picture the maelstrom of shit avalanching downhill in his direction. On second thought, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Cali to okay the operation in advance. 

“What are you calling me for, then?” Amado asked. “Have you talked to Félix about this?”

Another hmm, this time loaded in a way Amado couldn’t identify. “I’d much rather talk to you,” said Pacho. 

A concerning little curl of uncertainty coiled itself in Amado’s belly. “Oh?”

“You handle transportation, don’t you? Why concern the king with the business of generals?”

Amado heard the mocking emphasis on the word king. He almost smiled. “Are we generals, you and I?” 

Pacho chuckled. “I understand how things work.” Unspoken, the sentiment that Miguel Ángel did not. 

Amado chewed his bottom lip. “Alright,” he said at last. “Wednesday. But the airfield isn’t ready for planes, yet.”

“Of course. I’m sending a flight to Corazón de María. It’s arriving at noon. He’ll need to be picked up.”

Ah. Amado saw where this was going. “And I suppose I’ll be doing that personally, huh? I might be busy Wednesday, I don’t know if I’ll have time to fly to Chiapas.”

“I wouldn’t dream of telling you how to run your operation, Amado.” 

The uncertainty in Amado’s belly curled a bit tighter at the way Pacho said his name. It was as casual as it was intimate, the menace implied. “Sure,” said Amado. 

On Pacho’s end there came a wild, roaring cheer and a flurry of exuberant sound. A goal, maybe. 

“I’m up,” Pacho said. “It’s been a pleasure talking to you.”

“Yeah.” Amado hesitated. “You too.”

“Oh,” said Pacho. “The man I’m sending. Navegante. Be respectful to him.”

Amado frowned. What the hell did Pacho think he was going to do, ditch his sicario at the airport and call his mother a pigfucker? “I understand how things work,” he echoed. 

“Certainly.” There was a definite edge of humor in Pacho’s voice. “Have a lovely day, Amado.” He hung up before Amado could respond.

Amado stared at the phone in his hand, blinking. “What the fuck, man,” he muttered.

“Good talk?” asked Aguilar.

Amado turned around. He tugged his sunglasses down his nose so he could properly aim a double middle finger. “Funny joke. Give me some fucking warning next time, huh?”

Aguilar squinted innocently, the folder still open in his hands. “What do you mean?”

Amado shook his head. He headed for the door. “Never mind, asshole.”

[witch-with-a-book]

"Thoughts?” Gideon said, “Did you know that if you put the first three letters of your last name with the first three letters of your first name, you get ‘Sex Pal’?” The dreadful teens both stared with eyes so wide you could have marched skeletons straight through them. “You–do you /talk?/” said Isaac. “You’ll wish she didn’t,” said Camilla. . . Welcome the warden of the sixth house palamedes sextus and Camilla Hect. . . Sex Pal is made from a random head one I had laying about and the body is one of the Weasley's. . #palamedessextus #griddlehark #6thhouse #camillahect #thelockedtomb #bookishfunkopop #bookishpops #customfunkopop #forfunnotforsale #funkopopbookish #witchwithafunko https://www.instagram.com/p/CNzppjRJvdQ/?igshid=1xbre6csf1voz

[lilrorogirl]

This was a gift of love for some dear friends of mine who adore the 6th house, and now that they recieved it I can finally share it here! “Six for the Truth, Over Solice in Lies”

From @tazmuir 's Gideon the Ninth 💀🖤

https://www.instagram.com/p/CDSR96DJQhD/?igshid=1av8a0h1mdryc

[stardustpaste]

SEX PAL, LAY DOWN SOME NERD FACTS! #thelockedtomb #palamedessextus #shitpost https://www.instagram.com/p/CUK6D6fJzrB/?utm_medium=tumblr

[bobakick]

6 and 25 for the writing meme!

Thanks so much!

6 What character do you have the most fun writing?

Daniel LaRusso, baby! What I really love about this fandom is that I've seen so many different takes on his character, some of which seem diametrically opposed when compared side by side, but which all ring true for me in the right contexts. I personally enjoy writing him as someone who is both deeply conflicted and deeply repressed about that confliction, and it's so much fun to play around with all those layers.

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

The social aspect! I've noticed that I'm always at my most prolific when I have "cheer readers" with whom I can share my work as I'm writing. Being able to bounce ideas off of @jenpsaki while writing bring me a match has been invaluable and made the experience so much fun.

[lingua-mortua]

2 and 17 for the writing meme if you haven't done them yet!

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

As you, friend, know, I have just put together most of the pieces for a first draft of a novel I started last year. I have made a couple attempts at novel-length original fiction in the past and not been successful. This project feels like it has potential. I am terrified of it. The plot is shaky, I'm locating it in a time and place I have little experience with, I feel like a giant fraud about the whole thing.

Am I looking forward to getting into it again and trying to produce a second draft? Surprisingly, yes.

I also have a Punisher fic based loosely on the plot of The Bodyguard which I will be very excited to finally finish in the year 2086.

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

It took me a bit of time to figure out how to even begin to answer this question. Not that I think I'm an open book, necessarily, but I don't think I'm doing anything writing-wise that is out of step with how I operate as a human. Certainly since my return to fandom in 2015 I have developed as a writer (and, crucially, as a human). Some of the themes in my work have become more subtle as I've worked through Issues in my real life.

A few years ago I would have answered this question differently because I was a lot more invested in writing darkfic, and embedded in a group of people who were also doing that. So there was a sense that there were people in fandom who were hostile to that creative avenue and it was one's duty to push back against them using a common set of talking points. I stand by most everything I wrote at that time that's still posted, but as I've refined my writing I note that I feel less strongly about performing an identity as, let's say, a specifically transgressive fan writer. I think there are things I write that are definitely complex and not for everybody. There are themes that I still need to address for myself in the things that I write. I am more confident in my ability to work those into a story and defend them, if necessary, without needing to participate in a particular fandom conversation about them.

I also spent four years working in a job where I was brought into close proximity to some extremely challenging questions about harm, influence, violence, intervention and suffering. That was not only an experience that helped me refine my writing, but also made me question how I approach certain themes and how I want to do so in a way that honours my personal ethics and tells a story that might be of some value to other people.

I'm answering these writing related questions today!