Vente, vacila un poquito

The third of the García siblings

24 years old

Moved to Japan when he was just a few months old

Diamonds player. Not because he is particularly intelligent (although he is not dumb by any means), but because he is absolutely unpredictable and extremely lucky

Finishing his master's degree in Chemistry

You never know what to expect with him, funny, easy-going, chill

Finds himself in the weirdest situations because he is always game for anything

Adores his older sisters

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Both the muses and mun are +18.

This is just something I do for fun, because I love my characters and wanted to develop them further than just a few fics and oneshots.

I am not picky when it comes to what to write, but if you're interested in romance, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, or anything of the sort I'd like it if there was chemistry between our characters. Maybe they could start off as friends and see where that takes them?

I don't like writing smut.

I am always up for talking ooc as well, so if you ever want to chat feel free to shoot me a message.

If I ever don't reply to a post/am taking very long to reply to one of our threads, again, please message me. It could be that I'm not inspired, I haven't had that much time, the thread got lost somewhere in my notifications or I just can't get into the mindset of that character in that particular moment.

ahem, ahem...my room tonight?

I-

Eh...

“Well, guess this is how I decide to introduce myself to the final Garcia sibling.”

Ah, shit, guess if I looked a little bit more like Orión we could be an item, then?

A turtleneck.

Hércules usually wore things that covered his neck when he was meeting her, afraid of exposing it, feeling like prey, like bait, like the next meal. As if baring it was equal to saying bite here, rip my throat with your teeth, with your claws something he knew very well she was capable of but hoped wouldn't happen. She wasn't a rabid wolf, but he wouldn't have been surprised to encounter her with blood dripping from behind parted lips. Hers or someone else's? Only for Irma to know.

Metal hands. Little was left of his arms now. The touch of things nothing but a distant memory, the difference in temperature from his robotic skin (grown in a lab using stem cells cultivated from a suitable donor to avoid... what had they called it? A rejection? The way his body had of screaming: no, please, no, give me my hands back, not knowing they had been reduced to bits and pieces and chunks of skin, blood, tissue. Some of his nails had been intact, surprisingly enough.) tormenting him. Every time he placed his new, shiny, silver hands on someone his only thoughts: will they find them cold? Alien? Strange? Would they give in to their touch as they would have originally?

Late. She was late. Or maybe he was early. Time was nothing but a construct and none of them paid attention to such things. Hércules had. At some point. Long before enrolling in the military and losing parts of his body he had never though of living without. Constant learning. They said that you couldn't teach an old dog new tricks, but what if acquiring that sort of knowledge was the only way this old dog had of surviving? Would he perish? He was trying, at the very least.

She appeared. Suddenly, like a ghost. Hércules was the mansion she haunted. The neon lights that adorned Tokyo's otherwise pitch black night adding colors to her blonde hair, to her grey eyes. What had he compared them to, once, in another universe, in another life? Ah, yes. The waters in which näkki lived, shape-shifting spirits of Finnish folklore that played enchanting songs and lured men, women, and children to drown. Oh, how he would have drown willingly. How he would have stepped into ice cold water and simply let the tide take him anywhere. Ignoring the warning signs. This place will become your tomb. Well, he certainly hoped so.

Wrote this for the Drug Cartel AU @cheshire-shuntaro created, in which Hérc is one of the chemist working for Hatter, creating drugs... because he has no other choice, basically. ~

When Hércules had obtained his Master's, lab safety had been the most important thing. In fact, you couldn't even start working on any experiments until you had passed a shitty little course, for which you had to watch dozens of videos of people (most likely PhD students obliged to do these kind of things in exchange for credits) pretending to be in dangerous situations.

"Oh, no! He dropped some polypyrrole in his eyes, what should he do!? Well, if you've read the SDS, the Safety Data Sheet, you would know you have to rinse your eyes with pure water (no, water from the sink doesn't really work) for fifteen minutes and...'

Y una mierda.

He guessed it was different in legal labs, but in El Sombrerero's Cocaine Factory where he was nothing but a mere Oompa Loompa, dancing to the psychotic tunes of his boss' delusions, nobody wore gloves, or safety goggles. A few lab coats could be seen here and there, but they were stained, with holes in them from chemical exposure, and most of them the wrong sizes. As if they had stole them from a factory making crazy scientist costumes for children instead of from an actual laboratory equipment manufacturer.

It was a mess. Dirty, disgusting, which made it not so different from Hatter's house, in Hércules' opinion: a mishmash of different objects that were there just. To be. To show others he could pay them, to boast.

But the coca was real pure, crystalline white, and that was what matter.

'Potassium permanganate...' Do not use for products which come in direct contact with the skin. It can cause corrosion, which produces an irreversible damage to the skin; namely, visible necrosis through the epidermis and into the dermis. Delayed or immediate effects can be expected after short or long-term exposure. Careful with how you dispose of it, it can pollute watercourses... 'Sodium permanganate.' May intensify fire, because it is an oxidizer. Do not swallow. Severe skin burns. Toxic to aquatic life. Do not eat when handling this product. Wash your hands after handling.

Hércules repeated what he had to be careful about inside his head, not out loud. Every single time he had tried to make the other chemists a little bit more aware of the dangers these products could actually pose, he had been laughed at. Well, they could be blinded, for all he cared, but that wouldn't happen to him. He was, also, one of the very few who had actually studied for this, who had a passion for chemistry and research, despite the very small success rates.

Synthesis. The creation of molecules that had never existed before. The fact that he could play God, up to a certain point. Improving the properties of already existing natural materials or creating them from... nothing.

Making things better.

Making the world a better place.

But was he doing that, really? When he was creating cocaine, a highly addictive stimulant, that could cause chronic and acute conditions in cardiovascular health, as well as gastrointestinal problems, irritability, liver and kidney damage... death?

Had he really had a choice? Did people, ever?

If his father had never gotten himself involved in the business...

If he hadn't promised Andro's hand in marriage to Hatter as a way of securing their situation before his death...

If Hércules wasn't so fucking scared of what could happen...

Then, maybe, there would be a way out.

But, they were running out of time. And the next batch needed to be ready soon. And people couldn't feed themselves and their families out of ifs...

dark stormy blue

Sinking ships, raging seas and tumultuous hearts, love isn't easy for you. It's a struggle, a constant inner fight of should I? Can I? Do I? Feelings are hard and they rumble inside you in a dissatisfied mess that begs to be let out. Your heart screams and cries inside you and you… You can't, you won't. You're scared. And love is scary, it's hard and sometimes it just doesn't work out. People leave, people hurt, people change their minds. And you and your cold stormy heart yearn for the calmness, for the distance, to be allowed and able to simply not feel. And yet, you do. It rages, it fights and storms inside you and you try to keep it down, keep it quiet, to feel pretending not to. It's the burn of childhood friends growing apart, of parents that aren't quite there, of relationships that burn out. So you snuff it down with water, cold and calming and blue, blue, blue. But being loved by you is blue too, just not in that way. It's the soothing, embracing feeling of floating, the moment when you sink down bellow the waves and become one with the water, with everything. It's the balance, the dramatic yet calming sound of waves that crash against a rocky shore. You're the good and the bad, the violence of the storm and the watery peace right after. You're the blue, blue feeling and loving you is watery tears, yelled confessions that no one will hear and burying your feelings in a deep watery grave never to be found out about. Your love is dark stormy blue, it's vast and deep and all encompassing, it's safety in the surface of danger, it's trusting the unruly abyss and yet I'd gladly risk drowning just to feel what it's like being loved by you.

-Yalina

Oh, Yalina... cool. Cool. Cool.

Cass, so...? Ah, should I just say a bit about them? Okay, good!

My personal favorite is Triceratops. As you can see in the pic below, they were about 9 m long and 3 m tall, so like almost two Hércules! In height, not in length, obviously! They weighted 12,000 kg!!!!!!!!!!!!! And they were herbivores. In fact, all of the ones I like the most are herbivores. Like, don't get me wrong, it's fine that they want to eat each other, the food chain and all that but...

Anyway, I love Apatosaurus as well. I don't know if you've seen the film The Land Before Time but it was my favorite movie when I was a kid and there was this dino called Littlefoot, Piecito in Spanish that... no! I won't tell you the details. Then we can watch it together at some point!

Anyway, other cool ones are Brachiosaurus and Stegosaurus. I'll leave you with some info about them!