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#i’m reading up on a lot of stuff actually. ofc a lot about the liberation war and the genocide

boxwinebaddie · 2 months

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STAN HAS THAT K CHOKER RIGHT? DOES THAT MEAN KYLE HAS AN S NECKLACE? like he could totally stack his s necklace with his star of david one

aaaaaaaaa

you know i love a lil matchy-matchy moment~

and actually, i accumulated a lot of different asks actually, mostly, interestingly enough asking me about the same roundabout thing: if jersey wears rings, how he feels about jewelry, if he has any tattoos or other piercings, stuff of the like, etc.

but i never got around to answering those because i'm kind of a perfectionist and i get all worked up in my head about how i'm going to answer things because i want them to be perfect ( i keep trying to structure nsfw ask like it's a nine page research essay, smh ) buuut

basically, as we all know well, jersey is…Particular.

particularly abt himself and what is done to him/on him.

( okay, fair warning: the rest of this answer is very long and i just talk a lot about the former question about jersey/his attachments to material things and also physical-emotional things — people — you do not have to read all that...the short answer is yes, kyle does stack a stan 's' necklace with the star of david, i talk about it more at the end, but this intro part is a lot of exposition and information. so if your curiosity does not end there...perhaps i can further it below xx )

a lot of it ties into his ocd and this need to control every aspect of his life, not being able to put it in anyone elses hands but his own because he's scared of that improbability...that margin of error.

it keeps him up at night.

for that reason, even though he has a ton of health issues, diabetes, etc. he is extremely Defiant and Volatile in doctors offices. like, he will start throwing shit, rip ivs out of his arms, ask you to explain what you are giving him In Detail and will probably still refuse to take it.

tbh, the only reason he's taking any medication at all is because he really loves sheila and she is extremely worried about losing him </3

( jersey is a mommas boy, i said what i said! )

but he takes his own blood sugar, pricks his own fingers, runs all his own tests...he really does not trust anyone else w/ that kind of thing. which ties into piercings because he does...think that they're…lowkey, highkey *jersey vc* Hawt, i’m sorry; it's true.

i do think it's his...Thing.

the man really just wants a little hot topic emo boy accessory display for a boyfriend and he is right for that. cute, shiny, edgy. i respect it.

eye candy, arm candy, if you will?

( jersey is extremely partial to candy, ofc <3 )

and idk, maybe it's just a me thing, but to me, jerseykyle, specifically, is very conceptual and is intrigued by fashion and stuff, but because when he was overweight growing up, he was sort of just shoe-horned into all this oblong, ugly clothing, whatever would fit or they could afford. so he never really got to be able to wear things he wanted to, until about right now and it's been really liberating for him? idk? aaa

i love sleek, chic, dark academia, tired 1940s evil classics professor, thrift store couture jersey in his dollar store blazers and italian loafers. like my man is an off duty model, forreal. i am obsessed with him.

and actually he really Likes tattoos and piercings and dyed hair and thinks all the little rings are cool because you're like this living art form, this distinct individual, there's a uniqueness, a cool rebellion there he can’t create have within himself, so he combats/masks it as disgust and disinterest because he doesn't like to process his complicated feelings and also doesn't like forming attachments...especially...

...to things he's inexplicably Drawn to.

which is why, initially, upon even just bearing witness to raven of crimson dawn, kyle freaked out because he was like immediately Extremely Attracted to him because he checks all these little boxes in his brain, but his brain, of course, is corroded by mental illness and trauma, so he immediately projects extreme amounts of hostility in raven's direction because he is like you're all chaos and disorder, you're a mess, you throw caution to the wind, You’re Unpredictable.

when he’s actually obsessed w/ that capricious energy?

like he makes fun of stan for all his punk rock boy 'hood ornaments' and 'anarchical embellishments', but his heart starts racing every time stan winks at him and his little eyebrow piecing winks back, or he runs his tongue over that lip ring kyle got hyperfixated on, partially because it's pretty, which...rip, not even joking…

if stan comes out in the support rock, fuck a rockstar tank top, the tiny pants and sports that little lip ring chain thing that connects to the cuff on his ear...it does something seriously ( down ) bad to kyle's brain and stan is immediately getting Railed. soz if you were waiting for stan's autograph, hes gettin ky's all over his body. woops.

but!!! it's mostly bc stan had the courage and hedonism to put something through his lip and live with it. that he could get other piercings, get tattoos, let people handle him, put his life into someone else's hands, let them have control for a second, knowing they are executing the thing you want/need without you doing it...

it's literally All a control thing.

or rather, an inability to lose it.

because he's very particular, yeah, about what he likes and doesn't like, he won't wear any fabrics that itch or bother him, he won't buy something if the hem pisses him off, if he has to wear something he doesn't like, he will bitch and moan the entire day about it. and while it's good to have that level of self-assuredness, it's also kind of a self-preservation and self destructive coping mechanism for jerseykyle.

because he pushes everything out...

but doesn't let anything else in.

and a lot of that changes when raven/stan comes back into the picture, because when they were growing up, stan was this beautiful, glowing fixture of nonconformity, this pillar of strength that was twice as strong as he was, even though kyle was the fighter. because stan fought for self-acceptance and kyle fought for self-loathing.

and really...the reason why his ed developed in the first place was because gerald and society as a whole brainwashed him into hating himself and that people would only digest him if he was in small enough, beautiful, palatable enough pieces to eat so even though he acts out or throws punches: It’s All Within The Lines.

or the confines, rather.

of the person he thinks people want him to be.

but, idk, i'm talking too much. basically, gist is, kyle has a hard time handing over control to other people/being vulnerable and the final piece to that is...permanence.

a piercing...a tattoo...is Permanent.

i mean, sure, they close up and you can get them removed, but you are irreconcilably changed and altered. you are different now.

anddddd sigh, the jersey can't say i love you ask strikes again! because jersey can't say i love you because it's handing over control, because it's vulnerable because it's...permanent and he has extremely deep-seated commitment issues because of all of that.

which means he rarely, if ever, makes said commitments.

so when he Does...

it's a very special thing indeed.

because jersey has no tattoos or piercings on his body.

save for the sun/moon one he got on his ring finger for stan ( i can never decide if i want jersey to have the sun tattoo because he is the sun or if he has the moon one so he can wear rae around with him )

*** ( i also think it's possible he might get little hebrew things for his mom or idk, something very important later...i'll think about it more )

and...One ear piercing.

i was going to go at this in more comical and dramatic way in an old post, but basically, i think kenny/bebe/craig someone basically joked about there being reduced earring piercings at claire's and they should take kyle because he's the only one without pierced ears and jersey gets really defensive about it and everyone's like ooooh! kyle's scared to get his ears pierced, so the competitive and aggressive side of him that hates to lose briefly outweighs the neurotic side and is like "fuck you!!! let's go right now! i'm not scared of anything!"

and he gets there, stan's with him, and he is...freaking out in the little plastic chair with some eight year old girl next to him ecstatically getting her ears pierced for her birthday, bc he's going to have to let someone...do something to him/inflict something on him.

( which actually, i think, is what is really beautiful about j.k and r.s' relationship and dynamic, is that jersey teaches raven that you can't just let people do things you don't want them to do to you just because you feel like you should ft. his sexual trauma and stan teaches kyle that it is okay to let other people in, to do reckless things, to allow yourself to feel and enjoy simple pleasures w/o fear. ft. his ocd

lmao, is there a branch in my eye again? y is it Watering )

and ravenstan is like, mi amor, they are just your ears, you will be okay, i will hold your hand…

everything will be fine, i swear. :’) <3

and he gets hyped up, ready to go, the 16 y/o piercing his ears tells him she'll count to three and pierce on one.

...and she pierces on Three.

i'm not sure if it's bc she pressed too soon or because she thought that if she surprised him, it might make him less nervous, but it does not!!!! kyle FREAKS out!!!! his ocd goes haywire and basically has a nervous breakdown at freaking /claires/ bc she pierced his ear before she SAID she would and destroys the confidence that he built up to let himself be vulnerable.

it seems like a Silly thing...but i think it says a lot, yknow?

and though it was a serious blow to his ego, kyle only has...one ear pierced because he panicked and could not get the second one done. and it, to this day, is one of the only asymmetrical things abt him. which, i actually think is important to him coping w/ his ocd

( similar to how kyle, sorry slight nsfw, having stan have to ask for things if he wants them, helps him, in a seemingly innocuous way, build confidence in himself/not let things just 'happen' to him without his consent ) because having only one ear pierced means he has to deal with being lopsided and that, everyday the earth doesn't crash into the sun...means that he's okay.

also a cute thing about the one ear piercing is that i think kyle wears like this cute little gold sun dangly one that has a similar ambiance to the sun and moon glasses chain charms? it's his signature.

and other than showering, sleeping, etc. he only really ever takes it out when raven is going off somewhere far away :( and he switches it with a little stan silver earring ( idk kyle feels very gold jewelry bc of his orange hair and stan feels v silver bc of his blue eyes and stuff ) and stan sometimes takes kyle's with him on tour...AAAAA i'm sad

on the subject of rings, since someone else asked me, kyle does not wear rings even though he does like them/they're pretty because they're heavy, they clank against his pen when he's writing, the sound pisses him off...but he wears stan's lil silver emo boy rings when he's away and gaslit himself into liking the sound because the sound it makes against his pen reminds him of the sound it makes when stan is excitedly scribbling song lyrics and singing to him aaaaa IM :(

WHERE WAS I GOING WITH THIS AGAIN?

oh, yeah.

extreme mental illness.

so jersey never makes adjustments or accommodations for anyone, and when he does it's a big deal...but really...

it's because Stan is a big deal to him.

stan is EVERYTHING to him.

and kyle thinks it's cute that at every show and every concert, stan always wears the little spicy k charm on his emo boy choker ( and got the little even spicier inner thigh tattoo w kyle's name on it...anyways )

so, he starts wearing a little s around his neck for stan.

which, initially, i'm sure you're like...oh God.

jersey making an adjustment to his very specific cartoon character outfit alignment of things he wears every day, things he wears at home, things he wears specifically when going out depending on the environment...this sounds like a recipe for disaster. this is a big change for him. he's gonna spin out or short circuit his brain.

but...really? it feels as easy as Breathing.

because for one of the first times in his life, kyle got something that he didn't just get for him, w/ selfish intentions or bc he needs to be in control...he got it...

to make stan happy. :)

and it does make him very, Very happy, indeed.

which is really funny to me because jersey is super annoying and just starts wearing it and pretends like he doesn't know what's going on bc he's bad at ~gestures~. so stan comes home, sees it and immediately is like *big stan eyes* 'what are you wearing??'

and kyle is like, ‘oh, this? i've had it forever, it's was just in the back of the closet. why? is it wrinkled or—‘ and stan is like 'no, dummy. the NECKLACE' and kyle, playing dumb, trying to act nonchalant because he's kind of embarrassed abt having emotions is like 'oh, that. y'know. just something i'm trying out...' and stan is like

'kyle broflovski, are you wearing a necklace with my initial on it????' and kyle is like 'alright, woah there, mr. celebrity. but not eeeeverything is about you, okay? that s could stand for anything.'

and stan is like *genuine heart eyes wowza because kyle is being annoying but stan loves dumb annoying kyle that's why he wears his lil possessive emo boy k charm on his choker everywhere* 'okay, well the k on mine stands for kiss me or kiss me kyle or whatever you want just, come and kiss me please' kshdlkshd <333 eWW

anyways...they're Gay. they're in love. they having matching tattoos and earrings and wear eachother's intials around their neck. nbd.

but...in a very longwinded format, i hope this answers your question baby and hopefully some other questions you have abt jersey. i'm sorry that was a lot but i literally could talk about jersey forever, like he is so fascinating and bc he's our narrator and he's such an unreliable one, it's hard to understand how his brain works.

hope this helps. <3

uncle nina, keeper of the cryptid jersey whore-lore

#okay i am sorry #i know this barely answers your question #but i got a lot of similar questions #and i wanted to answer them in one big ask while i was feeling inspired so here is a bunch of jersey trauma lore #i hope it's fascinating i find it all super fascinating #because he presents like this perfectly in control orderly well maintained militant self-satisfying self gratified thing #but it's just a front for the fact that he's scared of change and is scared of not being in control or making mistakes #like he is put together but a breath away from falling apart #stan teaches him to sit down kyle teaches him to stand up #also sorry kyle having a fascination with edgy boy things and piercings and stuff in particular is kinda spicy to me #i luv him like he really is like that man is a satanic abomination and i want to do terrible horrible depraved things to him #like he really saw raven of crimson dawn and was like oy gevault i have never wanted to cut my lip open on anything #more than on that mans lip ring holy hell oh my god he is so shiny and ripped up and his makeup is so cool #he is a celebrity he has no original thought he doesnt think abt anything thats why he has all those tattoos and piercings #but also y do i want to trace my fingers down them every time i look at him he reveals himself more to me i want to learn more #kinsey scale gay 6 jerseykyle everyone but specifically for dramatic crybaby bisexual punk rock boys w/ piercings #which...i think is incredible bc i do not think people would expect that from kyle...but people also thinks he cannot feel #BUT HIM ADJUSTING HIS WELL REGIMENTED LIFE TO INCOPORATE STAN INTO IT I WANT TO SCREAM #HIM LEARNING TO LET OTHER PEOPLE DO STUFF FOR HIM AND BE OKAY WITH THEM HELPING HIM #I WANT TO START FUCKING SCREAMING I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS ALL DAY I LOVE JERSEYS CHAR DEV #ok final thot is he does sometimes do a gold jewelry ring moment or somethin if he's feeling like its important to the look #but they are very insignificant things for aesthetics easily taken off or removed...its the important stuff he has trouble w #and makes it all the more rewarding i think <3 #ily jers #okay last last small thing as far as like getting little piercings and random fun tattoos goes i just think he doesnt want any #boring king ik minus the ocd and stuff he just likes all his stuff to be very a-line and crisp doesnt like massive statements #like my man Is the statement like he has beautiful luxiourous curly red hair and green eyes and his nose a modern art piece #its too busy for him its distracting and u know thats what u have a hot rockstar bf for so u can pretend 2 read ur book #but the plot of the book is tracing ur sbfs sexc hip tattoos and helping him decide what belly button ring hes gonna wear #you know!!! The Plot!!! which kyles eidetic mem comes back but he does get distracted looking at stan a lot help

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buckstaposition · 3 years

Text

I cling to your lips like gloss (4)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

tags&warnings: spoilers for S3 eps1+2 mainly, some for later episodes also; mention of drug use; brief description of a panic attack; sleazy David Rodríguez is sleazy; somewhat liberal use of the f-word and also other swearing; reference to past canon character deaths; this blog is CIA station chief Bill Stechner-phobic to the max; most non-graphic, vaguest possible reference to sex (to when Javi goes home with that lady in episode 1); oblivious mutual pining; idiots with zero emotional self-awareness; domesticity

word count: 15.435 (I’m sorry, here are some snacks 🍌🥨🧁🥤)

summary: Diana goes into the lions’ den. Javier is not having a good time. No one gets enough sleep.

tag list & author’s notes have been moved to the bottom. let me just say sorry this took me so long and I hope you’re all well and healthy and happy holidays and may the new year be better for all of us

Masterlist

Prologue • Chapter 1 - The Informant • Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals • Chapter 3 - Swallow Pride and Anger

Chapter 4 - Prime Numbers

Franklin Jurado, Diana thinks, is a bit of an ass. It's not even that he happily, willingly, goes around laundering narcos' blood money, or that he gets rich off that himself. In this moment, it's mostly the way he dismissively rolls his eyes and can barely keep the contempt out of his voice when arguing with her about Maltese vs Caymanian tax loopholes. Like she's an idiot for actually reading the laws, spotty as they are.

On top of everything, it's keeping her in her office well past the time she was meaning to start getting changed and dolled up for the grand party that night, and she feels a pressure headache of annoyance building behind her temples to boot.

She's this close to bludgeoning the man with her stapler when an insistent knock sounds at the door, followed by a blonde head poking in. The blonde lady starts speaking in rapid English, too abrupt for Diana's brain to keep up with what is being said, but she instinctively recognized the tone of a husband being reamed out with righteous indignation and if nothing else, it gives her a certain kind of vindication.

"Hi, I'm Christina Jurado. Just Christina is fine. Pleasure to meet you!" The other woman now stepped fully into her office, holding out her hand and smiling just a tad too brightly.

"Diana...Galindo." Why she'd chosen to be known here under her married name is anyone's guess. Perhaps it was mostly a matter of having grown used to it. Perhaps it allowed her to pretend that this wasn't quite her, just an act to be put on for a greater purpose. That helping drug cartel bosses hide their blood money from the tax man and signing off on their henchmen's paychecks was something that Diana Teresa Artemisia Rivas Rincón would not be caught dead doing, no matter the circumstances. "Pleased to meet you."

"Franklin, we'll be late!" the other woman throws over her shoulder. Rather pointedly, too.

"We're not done discussing-"

"I don't care, Franklin!" There's a moment of very animated eye contact, the kind of wordless back-and-forth that she'd dreamt of developing with Juan Mateo but that they never quite managed. Just another little detail that ultimately spelled the end of their marriage. "Actually, why don't your ride with us?"

"I, um-" Diana instinctively reached to adjust the wire she'd been wearing for most of the day (to get used to the feeling and not inadvertently betray herself later), only catching herself in the last moment and fidgeting with the collar on her blouse instead. "I- Felipe was supposed to drive me. I need to get ready still, too."

"Eh, he can tag along. What are you wearing? Do you have your dress here?" She did. There was no arguing with Christina, but no malice in her overbearing imperiousness either. Nonetheless, Diana tried to argue, if only for politeness' sake. How she wouldn't want to impose. That it wasn't a problem, since Miguel Rodríguez had very kindly arranged for her transportation in the form of the afore-mentioned Felipe. Mrs Jurado waved it all off. And perhaps the obvious annoyance in Franklin Jurado's eyes gave her a little push. Say what one might about the Rodríguez brothers, but at least neither of them had ever questioned her professional expertise.

Before she knows what hit her, the three of them are sailing out of the building and towards the cars parked out front. Well, Christina is sailing, while Franklin and Diana are trotting along behind her and shooting each other sour looks. It's the kind of wrathful indignation that she hadn't felt since second grade, when Bruno Moreno had pulled her pigtails and stolen her pencil. Christina seemed unperturbed, ordering the drivers around in her accented but surprisingly decent Spanish. Felipe caught Diana's eye, wringing his hands and questions in his eye.

"It seems I will be riding with Mr and Mrs Jurado. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to follow us to their hotel and then take my work clothes back to the office after I've changed? I'd hate to have to lug around my stuff or leave it lying around somewhere. You'd be a great help this way, and as far as I'm concerned, you can go straight home after that."

"Of course, ma'am." He nodded, seeming relieved by the clear instructions. Diana smiled and handed off her garment bag to the Jurados' driver.

The drive itself could have been more awkward, what with being caged in the back of this limousine with two strangers, one of whom all but openly despised her and spent his time pouting after his wife had told him in no uncertain terms that if a single word of work talk left his lips she'd shove him out the door and into oncoming traffic. Luckily she also had made it her personal mission to pack half an evening's worth of small talk into the barely twenty-minute-ride.

The Jurados' suite was grand, the lounge alone bigger than the house Diana had grown up in. She was still trying not to show how out of place she felt among all the marble and gilded edges when Christina steered her towards the back, still prattling on in a way that the DEA would have a lot of fun picking through when they got the recording from her wire.

"Ugh, this place is so... Sorry, we wanted the president's suite, but one of the North Valley people snatched it up. Their... Who is he, Franklin? That unpleasant little man - is he the leader of the pack? With the young woman we saw when we checked in. Was that his wife?"

"Salazar." Franklin muttered, his face curdling into a deeper frown. At least Diana wasn't at the top of his most hated list, apparently. "Yeah, I think so honey."

"She looked awfully young."

"I'm sure we'll meet them all at the party."

"Something to look forward to." Christina grimaced and pulled Diana into the spacious bathroom, settling her down in front of a gigantic vanity mirror.

"Alright, what are we doing with you?" Diana looked at her own wide-eyed reflection staring back at her while Christina started pulling her hair free from the simple clip she'd used to hold it up.

"I, uh-" Diana pushed her glasses back up her nose and frowned. "I have contact lenses." She gestured vaguely towards her reflection. She had also packed a small bag with the handful of make-up items she owned, but lack of practice didn't exactly serve to make her adept at using them. Christina grinned excitedly, her whitened teeth shining. "Well no, that won't do! Hang on."

She sprung up and rushed towards the door, only stopping when she reached her husband who had lingered there, leaning against the frame.

"Hey you." For a moment, they softened, stealing a small kiss amid halted momentum. Diana ached to witness it. "Hey yourself."

"Go get changed." Christina smiled, kissing his cheek as she brushed past to dive into her suitcase.

"You're telling me? Don't take too long, we're on a schedule here." The words were softened by his tender expression, and as she walked past on her way back he reeled her in for another, deeper kiss. Diana pretended to be very invested in not poking her eyeballs out. Well, half-pretended. Putting in contact lenses was another thing she wasn't exactly used to. When she'd finally managed to fumble the second lens onto her eyeball, Franklin had long left and closed the door.

Without further ado, Christina set to work. Within moments, the marble counter was covered with various cosmetics and the other woman's eager hands set to work. Diana had no choice but to submit. Thankfully again, it was Christina who shouldered the bulk of the conversation.

"So, I did notice you're not wearing a wedding band, Mrs Galindo." Diana's eyes were closed, as her eyeshadow was currently being blended, but she did stiffen and instinctively her other hand went to touch where her ring had been. "Oh damn, I hope that wasn't- He's not tragically deceased, is he?"

"No, we're...separated. Divorcing. It's... it's dragging on, to be honest. I've learned more about Colombian marriage law in the past year than I ever wanted to know." She tried to diffuse with a joke, but it didn't quite land.

"Sorry, you must think me so rude. We only just met and here I am acting like we're friends!" She bit out in a jarring departure from her hitherto genial tone. "Anyway, I admire you. That can't have been easy what with how...uh-"

"...Catholic this country is?" Diana supplied, clasping the other woman's hands in hers with a slight smile. Christina huffed in relief. "Yes, I suppose. It's just... it's so hard. Marriage I mean. Sometimes I don't even know how to bear it." Her gaze fell towards the bathroom door that Franklin had closed behind himself upon leaving. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued. "How did you even know you couldn't go on like this?"

Diana gulped, hating what she was about to do. Resenting, for a moment, women like Gabriela who only had to sell a bit of their time and acess to their bodies to these people. She felt like she was selling away her soul every single day.

"Mrs Jurado-"

"Christina. Please, you can call me Christina."

"Christina, let me be honest. I never truly loved my husband, and he didn't love me. We liked each other and it was convenient, and expected, to get married. And in the end that proved to not be enough. But from what little I have seen, that's not something you and your husband have to contend with. Even if things are hard, as long as there is love you can overcome them. You have to believe in that."

Christina choked out a tearful little laugh, like in spite of herself.

"Oh God, good thing I haven't put on mascara yet. You're making me all dewy-eyed." She chuckled, then threw her arms around Diana and gave her a tight squeeze. "Thank you. Really."

"Of course," Diana awkwardly patted the other woman's back, thankful that she wasn't currently facing the mirror, "and I would be happy to become your friend." Whatever ice had remained between the two women was broken after that. Christina perked up and returned to chatting animatedly, finishing her make-up, doing up her hair in a very elegant twisted bun, and gushing over her dress.

"Do you have any jewelry to go with it?"

"Not really, no. I only ever wear this." Diana indicated the thin silver chain around her neck. Christina tutted.

"Well, that just won't do. Wait, let me just-" An impatient knock at the door interrupted her. "Oh dear, looks like we're running late."

Diana saw a chance to get a moment alone and suggested they each get dressed quickly, and separately, lest they waste any more time and husbandly nerves with their chatter.

"Okay, but holler if you need help with the zipper or anything."

Diana had never squeezed into a garment faster, glad that she had chosen to put on the wire device that morning already. She tugged the actual wire tight around her body where it had loosened over the course of the day, then shimmied into the underdress she'd brought in the hopes that it would conceal any suspicious bumps or lines. She had almost wrestled the zipper into its final position when Christina knocked and entered, quickly getting the last inch or so with a comment of how husbands were useful for some things.

"Anyway, I thought these would suit you." Christina presented an opened velvet case. Sitting inside it was a jewelry set, sapphires with diamonds set in gold. Real ones, judging by the Cartier labelling embossed into the velvet. A necklace, earrings, bracelet and ring, all fancier and more ostentacious than anything Diana had ever set eyes on. Immediately, her palms started sweating.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly-"

"Nonsense." Christina cut her off, placing the case down and snatching the bracelet and Diana's wrist. "You'll look so pretty and expensive. You can return them to me later, we'll be in town until Tuesday." Having clasped the bracelet around her wrist, she now moved on to the earrings. "Maybe we could get coffee on the weekend or something."

"I'd like that." Diana lied. Christina smiled at her brightly. "Great! I just need to ...uh, freshen up a moment." Taking the hint, Diana gathered up her things and stepped outside, awkwardly holding her bag of of work clothes to give to Felipe down in the hotel lobby. Franklin was standing by a sideboard, boredly rifling through a magazine.

"Mrs Galindo." He acknowledged. For a split second, he looked like he wanted to add something, but caught himself. Diana followed his gaze towards the closed bathroom door, behind which low noises of shuffling and splashing water could be heard.

"How long have you two been married?" She had no idea how this information might help the investigation, but determined that wasn't for her to worry about. Franklin sighed, gaze still fixed on the door and absent.

"Seven years now." He finally tore his eyes away from the door and let them flit over her briefly, catching on the borrowed jewels but electing not to comment on it. "They say the seventh year is the hardest, don't they?"

"I wouldn't know. I never made it that far." Though if Juan Mateo didn't pull his head out of his ass soon she would spend the seventh year still technically married. The thought made her frown.

Before either of them had to search for more overburdened smalltalk, the bathroom door blessedly clicked open and Christina emerged with a wide grin and a spring to her step, her eyes just a smidgeon glassy and too bright. Diana politely pretended not to see the remnants of fine white powder that Franklin surreptitiously wiped from her nose and upper lip. --- They arrived not exactly on time but not fashionably late either. There's a line of cars already plugging up the driveway to the sprawling estate, stringed lights illuminating against the darkening sky. They got out and sauntered towards the two-storey villa, the Jurados up front and Diana trailing behind like the kid that's finally allowed to come along to the fancy family outings. Her dress hadn't felt this tight in the store, or at any point afterwards, until just now.

"Franklin! I'm so glad you're finally here! Mrs Jurado, it's a pleasure." Diana can only just contain the flinch at the sound of this voice, and before long Miguel Rodríguez turns to her with one of his bright, self-satisfied smiles. "Mrs Galindo, I'm so glad you could come. We need to introduce you to the rest of the guys! It's been too long!"

He has his arm around her shoulders within the same breath, exuberant and steering her through the scattered throngs of people at a pace that doesn't even allow for snatching a champagne flute from one of the waiters floating around. She plastered on a fake demure smile. The 'invitation' hadn't exactly been a matter of mere suggestion.

Miguel led them to a dainty pagoda that sat a comfortable distance from the pool and most of the din and chatter of the other guests, nestled between the luscious greenery of the large garden. Diana could hear the mumbled whispers of the Jurados behind her, Miguel's droning on of meaningless small talk that she barely paid attention to. She could see Gilberto's back, his stature dwarfed almost comically by that of a much larger and broader man sat to his side, with short silver hair that gleamed in the low light.

"Gentlemen, I believe we are complete!" Miguel boomed, ushering her up the few steps and into the circle.

"Mrs Galindo, what a pleasure!" Gilberto shot up and made a show of shaking her hand and pulling her close to present her to the rest of the ...associates.

"Now I believe you've not yet met these fine gentlemen. Pacho Herrera, Diana Galindo." Pacho stood and took her hand gingerly, his face impassive and tone painstakingly polite and neutral. "My pleasure."

"Mr Herrera." Diana replied, heart thumping up into her throat. They'd not so much met as passed each other in front of offices or meeting rooms a handful of times, his tightly coiled, jaguar-like energy always seeming just a smidge out of place in those blandly corporate spaces.

"And here's Chepe, came all the way down from New York especially!" The large man with the silver hair stood to his full impressive height, snatching her hand with a wolfish grin and dropping a just-too-moist kiss on the back of it with a wink. Diana did her utmost not to flinch. For just a moment, she regretted the moment she'd taken off her ring and put it in front of a shocked Juan Mateo on their kitchen table before leaving their shared apartment. It was moments like these that she missed the protection it had afforded her from some unwanted advances.

Pallomari was last, balding and skittish, with huge owl-eye glasses not unlike the first pair she'd ever had.

"Mrs Galindo, how interesting to finally put a face to the name." He greeted, sounding painfully rehearsed. Diana returned with some meaningless pleasantry, hyper-aware of the wiretap device against her skin. She wondered whether it even picked up anything apart from the thundering of her heart.

"So, about your big announcement-" Miguel began once everyone was settled into a seat with a drink in hand. Gilberto cut him off almost immediately.

"Now, now brother, let's enjoy the party a bit beforehand." A look passed between them, a challenge issued and accepted, until Miguel turned his gaze away with a barely concealed snarl. Gilberto leaned back in his seat, glass raised with a smug and triumphant smirk. "Let's just say that I have made an important investment into our future. We will continue to thrive, but more importantly, we will be safe. Our families will be safe."

With that cryptic remark, he threw back his drink, expression melting from jovial to grim. The ensuing silence made the hair on the back of Diana's neck stand up, a feat she wouldn't have thought possible with the amount of hairspray Christina had encased her head in.

"He's dead, Pablo's dead." Miguel reached over where she was squished between the two men, squeezing his brother's arm in reassurance. "He's gone and we helped bring him down."

"We did. This country should build us monuments, instead they issue arrest warrants!" Gilberto bit out, pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

"To Pablo Escobar, may he forever rot in hell!" Chepe bellowed, glass raised high. They all joined in. Diana thought of her father. How he'd done her hair and walked her to school every morning and tucked her in with a new story every night when she was a girl. How, during her first year of university when she'd been so lonely and homesick she broke down crying, he'd taken precious time off work and taken a night bus to come visit her in Bogotá for a weekend. How her heart still split down the middle whenever she so much as thought of the crash that killed him. But the gentlemen didn't need to know that she despised them just as much as she did Escobar, not yet anyway. So, she raised her champagne alongside and joined her voice in the chorus of gleeful condemnation. - She'd just escaped Christina and the gaggle of wives for a moment, excusing herself to the restrooms. What the DEA might glean from their inane chatter, she couldn't possibly fathom. She was glad that she was free of them for a moment, and that disecting the recording wasn't her problem to deal with. On her way into the house, she must have passed by at least two dozen important and powerful people. There were a few handfuls of representatives, a number of mayors, at least two senators, an attorney general and an army general. No one she'd ever voted for, at least. And those were just the ones she'd managed to get Miguel to introduce to her, or her to them - either way, she'd made sure to repeat every name as clearly as possible for the recording.

Rounding the last corner in from the veranda, she all but ran into Salcedo.

"Mrs Galindo." His tone was clipped as ever. She wasn't sure whether he might be suspicious of her in particular, or whether it was a general thing and he was just like that.

"Mr Salcedo." She nodded, tone painstakingly polite. He set her teeth on edge, always so stiff-backed with that serpent edge to him; in a ranking of people within the cartel who had this effect on her he would probably come in about third. She wondered what Javier- what Agent Peña would make of the man. "What brings you here, Mrs Galindo?" Or perhaps he just didn't like her for some reason. Which was very much a mutual sentiment. Not that she held particular sympathies for anyone here.

"To the restroom?" *Take a wild guess, buddy*, she thought, one eyebrow arching with clear condescension.

"To the...house."

"The restroom." She resisted rolling her eyes. As much as she may personally dislike Miguel's chief of security, purposely antagonizing him was probably a bad idea. And yet, petty temptation beckoned in every nook and cranny. Like the sideboard they were currently standing in front of that displayed a solid bronze statue of a very rotund dancing couple. "To marvel at the Botero, naturally."

Salcedo's eyes followed her nod towards the heavy bronze. "It's genuine, you know." He said it not in the tone of an art aficionado, but rather in the crudely suggestive one of a third-rate telenovela detective trying to be slick by not outright asking if she meant to steal it.

"Of course, Mr Rodríguez wouldn't stand for anything less." The thing was half her size and probably twice as heavy, what was he thinking? Himself a master at subtle insinuation, probably. Or that being poor and growing up in the comunas naturally meant she had sticky fingers. Uptight, hoity-toity middle class prick. Like his employers weren't internationally wanted criminals of the highest degree. The audacity of it!

His mouth was already halfway open to retort when his name being yelled from outside made both of them turn. David Rodríguez hung onto the veranda door, snapping at Salcedo that his father wanted him for something, and pronto. Diana could practically hear his teeth grind in irritation, but he schooled his face into a carefully blank facade before he gave David a nod.

"Ma'am." Salcedo gave in and moved, squeezing by David. David purposefully did not budge, instead giving her a leery once-over before following after the other man.

Diana fled into the bathroom down the hall in a manner she hoped looked urgent rather than as panicked as she felt inside. She held it together until the lock slid closed, and then she was crouched on the floor, curled up and heavy breathing into her hands. The small pressure point of the wire recorder thingy felt like a ton weight against her chest and her heart was beating so fast she could feel it everywhere.

Hyperventilating. You're hyperventilating, her brain supplied unhelpfully, and she almost laughed at herself. She wished she wasn't here all on her own, wished she had at least one of those spy devices in her ear for some moral support, tried to recall the exact feeling of Agent Peña's hands on her shoulders, warm and grounding. One hand remained up, muffling the desperate breaths and whimpers from her mouth, while the other dropped, thumb dipping underneath the fabric at her chest to brush soothingly across her collarbone. It worked...to a degree. A very small degree. What she would give to at least have the deep, comforting rumble of his voice, or the way he'd held her close after the festival. Did he even know how calming his presence was? It always seemed to work on her, in wrath and anxiety both (something that Juan Mateo had never been able to affect unless it was to irritate her more). So much so that now even just focusing on it was enough to help her pull herself together.

The guest restroom was bigger than her childhood room had been and, of course, looked more like it belonged in some fancy hotel. All warm-toned marble and matte gold appliances. The mirror was huge and its frame, naturally, also gold. What was it with rich people's obsession with gold?

"Okay." Diana said to her reflection, then went to work freshening up. Carefully, she wiped away the smudged mascara under her eyes and reapplied her lipstick where it had come off on her drink earlier. She stuck her hands underneath her dress to check on the recording device, concerned that a wire had shaken loose or something, but the small rectangular container still sat right snug right against her sternum. She gave it an absent tap and adjusted the microphone bit so it sat just below the seam of her collar again.

"I hope you'll get something worthwhile from this because I am never doing this again." A knock on the door nearly sent her into cardiac arrest. Diana swore under her breath, then called out that she'd only be a moment.

"Sorry," an apologetic female voice came from the other side of the door, "You've been in there a while, is all. Are you alright? I have an aspirin in my purse if you need it."

Diana stopped dabbing at her still damp eyes and tried to determine whether her near panic attack was the sole reason her vision was still a bit hazy. She could count the times she'd been out without her glasses on one hand.

"Oh no it's just-," she crossed over and unlocked the door to find a young, very pretty and very concerned looking woman on the other side, "I just had some trouble with my contact lenses. They're awfully fiddly." She stepped back and opened the door wider. "All yours."

"Oh I don't-" She looked down the hallway, further into the house, her eyes widening slightly when she caught sight of something or someone outside of Diana's field of vision. "Actually, I think I need to...uh, powder my nose or something."

The door fell into its lock the same moment the younger woman had stepped into the room, not giving Diana a chance to leave. Not that she was over-eager to get back outside and mingle with the corrupt and criminal. That and the discomfort and anxiety hung around the other woman like a cloud. Diana made up her mind, sitting down on one of the plush benches in the room.

"I'm not a big fan of parties either." She stated, voice careful and soft. The other woman stood, unsure and tugging at the short hem of her dress.

"I wish they could just open the buffet already. My husband is three drinks in and he gets-" She trembled. No, shuddered. Diana patted the space beside her on the bench, a gentle invitation.

"It's alright, we can stay here for a little bit. I'm Diana."

"Maria." She stuck out her hand, which was also still trembling slightly. "Maria Salazar." --- By the time the two of them dared venture outside again, there was indeed, finally!, food to be had. Diana pulled Maria along to the relative safety of the gaggle of wives, busy amusing themselves while their husbands dealt with their important business matters. But then, the bandleader announced that the dancefloor was now officially open and started off with a spirited selection of the finest Colombian rhythms of the past twenty years. One by one the wives were collected to fill said dancefloor, leaving Diana sitting alone at the table with the sad remnants of various canapees and salads. Here was another occasion where she didn't miss Juan Mateo. Or his two left feet. Idly, she turned the near-empty cocktail glass between her fingers and wondered whether Javier danced, or could at least be persuaded to try.

"You don't dance?" David appeared so suddenly that she almost spilled the last bit of her drink. She remembered his leering earlier, forced her face not to flinch until she had raised the glass and could hide her expression of distaste behind a sip of the overly sweet and fruity cocktail. Hummed non-committally and hoping against hope that he'd grow bored and leave. Of course, she had no such luck.

"Oh, whom with? Everyone's paired up already." Sip again. The glass had another three or four in it, if she stretched it smartly enough. "I'm afraid third-wheeling is the unenviable fate of divorcees." How old was this boy anyway? She must have ten years on him, at the very least. But apparently he'd got it into his head that he must prove to himself what a man he was, and how irresistible. At least he had the good sense not to try anything with the wives of any of the powerful men present.

"Dance with me." David stated. Ah, bingo. He might have at least pretended to ask, she thought sourly. "I insist."

Of course you do, you entitled brat. "It would be my pleasure." She lies, as most politeness is lies, here in these circles comprised of snakes. Fakes a smile the way she's been taught to by this world, so easy to act and conceal the disdain underneath. It doesn't falter even when his hand, clammy and slightly sweaty, settles way too low for comfort or propriety on her hip. She resolves to step on his feet - accidentally - at least twice.

David Rodríguez was not what one would call a skilled dancer. At first, Diana had been thankful that the band wasn't playing any slow songs yet, but it had taken approximately half of 'Bamboleo' to dispel the hope that this would keep David's hands from wandering. Well, if she was stuck here she might as well try to get some intel out of him.

...It takes about two and a half songs - the band now switching to their international collection - to determine that this route of inquiry is absolutely doomed and David completely useless. Doesn't know any business particulars, and doesn't care to. Too distracted with trying to put some moves on her, which she steadfastly ignores. Well, if details of her failed marriage and dragging divorce aren't enough to discourage him, she's got another one up her sleeve. Not to mention she's been curious ever since the gaggle of wives had made their introductions earlier.

"You're not married." She leaves the 'yet' unsaid, hanging in the air between them as heavy insinuation.

"If I were, would I be dancing with you?" A faithful husband, and in these circles at that? What a novel idea. Diana almost snorted out loud. Left it at a telling look that seemed to go over his head completely. Doesn't have the energy to dissect how a dance with a friend or acquaintance at a party isn't exactly on par with, say, the juridical definition of adultery. Which brings her mind back to the tedium of having to explain to various lawyers, notaries, judges that no, her husband wasn't a cheating pig who drank and beat her, and that there were a multitude of quieter reasons why marriages failed.

"I have been wondering, though, where the third of the Mrs Rodríguezes belongs. Besides your mother and your aunt." She nodded over at the three women in question, one dancing with either Rodríguez brother, the third being currently twirled about by Chepe and looking a bit motion sick from it.

"My mother is dead." Ah, shit. Diana faltered, and this time the graze of her heel on his shoe really was entirely accidental. Something in David's eyes shuttered and hardened, gaze for once lifting from her body and darkly fixing on his father. "They're all my uncle's wives."

"Oh. Oh!" Diana's mouth falls open. Of all things she could have expected, this was certainly not one. "That's um... That sounds, uh..." Illegal, but then again, what did a bit of consensual polygamy matter in the grand scheme of things, she supposed.

"You sound so scandalized. Didn't think he had it in him, didn't you?" David smirked, tightening his grip on her back again and leading her in a turn.

"No, I'm just...wondering...about the, um...time management...aspect." In fairness, that was one of the things she did wonder about. David laughed, bringing her in closer.

"Each gets two days per week and Sundays he has them come all together and sit there while he watches sports."

How thrilling. "Whatever works for them, I suppose."

Diana tried to subtly twist away again. She wasn't going to get anything else from this, what with David already being bored and growing increasingly impatient. And she didn't have an escape plan that didn't consist of ramming her heel into him somewhere until she struck bone.

"Damn, can't they play something from this decade?" He whined as 'Money, money, money' faded into 'Knowing me, knowing you'. "All of this ancient stuff-" Sensing another chance to subtly nudge him away from his inexplicable sudden attraction, Diana jumped. "Oh I quite like it," she remarked lightly. Now go in for the kill "Reminds me of my youth."

David harrumphed, then grunted as her heel dug into his toes again. "Oh dear, so sorry." Diana said breezily, forcing his hand up from where it had been creeping towards her ass with a deft twirl.

"It's fine." He gritted. "Did you want to-"

"Allow me to cut in." Herrera stepped up, lightly shoving David aside to take his place. "I've not had the pleasure yet, Mrs Galindo." Diana forced a smile as his hand settled at her waist. Pro: at least this one wouldn't spend the whole time trying to feel her up. Con: not being thus distracted, he might notice...something. And become suspicious. If he wasn't already. Truth be told, Herrera scared her almost as much as Navegante did. Sometimes more so.

"Right, well this is a very tight dress, so I can't do any adventurous moves." She warned, plastering an apologetic expression onto her face. Thankfully the band had changed to a faster track, though they kept with the international flair of the selection. Next up was some Brazil, if she wasn't mistaken. David stood between the twirling couples for a long moment, glaring but not daring to do or say anything that might affront his father's business partner. She shot him a fake apologetic smile, but suspected it was more the insistent raised eyebrow from Herrera that ultimately got him to scurry.

Pacho Herrera could dance, that much was undeniable. Under different circumstances she might have even enjoyed this. He was also unnervingly quiet. If the purpose of this was to unsettle her, his tactic was very successful. At this rate, just keeping her feet under her proved to be challenge enough. One could think the band had launched into a Tarantella, given the speed they were going. Her head swam from the quick succession of turns and twirls, and when he dipped her upon the song's grand climax, her heart stopped for a variety of reasons. One of them being that she thought she felt some of her concealed wiring dislodge.

"I think your dress is not too tight after all, Mrs Galindo." He pulled back up and righted her again, blessedly stilling a moment while the band segued into a mellower number. Diana gulped in a few deep, unladylike breaths.

"No trust me, it is." She was still catching her breath; meanwhile he didn't even have a single hair out of place. Unfair. "So," Diana began her feeble attempt to bring the situation back under some semblance of control, "Are you interested in... tax exemptions?" Apparently humans could wheeze and cringe simultaneously. Very interesting. Herrera didn't answer immediately, just started leading her back into a mellow sway.

"I think you're interested enough for all of us, Mrs Galindo. Miguel showed us the figures earlier. Very impressive. I see why DIAN recruited you right out of university." How he made what was ostensibly a compliment sound like a threat, Diana didn't know, just that it did nothing for her heart rate.

"Thank you." He spun her out along with a flourish from the brass section, turning her already shaky voice into a squeak. She really hoped the recording had not picked that up. After the spin, his hand slid up over her back, before settling back on her waist. To her horror, something in Pacho's expression twisted and he pulled her closer, hand splaying over her mid-back again. So much for avoiding being fondled for one dance.

"What's this?"

"Oh, I don't want to bore you with the details of women's undergarments. Suffice to say I'm wearing an insane amount of Spanx right now."

There was a prolonged moment, during which Diana tried to keep her cool while deciding how much of a scene she was willing to cause should he not let it rest. Normally none at all, then again it was her life on the line.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Rodríguez requests you make your way to the equestrian ring for the big announcement."

Never in her life had Diana welcomed an interruption like at this very moment. Herrera hesitated for a split second, expression still unreadable, before joining the throngs of people set in motion. He grasped her hand firmly, looping it through his elbow until it rested on his forearm, where he pinned it with his other hand. Just unconspicuous enough to look polite to any onlooker, just forceful enough that she knew she couldn't free herself without obvious struggle.

"He could have done this up on the other stage." Miguel grumbled when they reached him, standing off the side to the stage that had been set up in the area.

"You know how he is, Miguel. Always has to have his way." The two men exchanged a glance around her while more people filed past.

"Mrs Galindo."

Diana hummed in acknowledgement, returned the meaningless pleasantries. Yes of course she was enjoying herself. What a lovely party. The music? Exhilarating. The buffet? Exquisite. Her divorce? Ugh. She would really prefer not to think about that right now, thank you very much.

"It's next Thursday, right? Your court appointment?"

"Yes, thank you for letting me combine this with a work trip to Barranquilla. It's my personal business after all."

"Of course, we want you at your best. Undistracted. Unburdened." Diana almost laughed, barely managed to suppress the snort and cover it with clearing her throat.

"I thought that had all gone through ages ago." Herrera remarked lightly, grip finally easing up some from her wrist. Diana sighed.

"I'm divorced, as far as I'm concerned. I moved out, signed my papers. I don't know what he thinks he's doing. I'm not going back to him. This obstinate little tantrum isn't helping his case anyway." Countless hours spent arguing with various legal professionals flashed before her eyes. "It's a very tedious process."

"It's a very catholic country." Pacho said, somewhere between wistful and embittered. She used his momentary distraction to pull her arm free.

"That's true."

Up on the stage, Gilberto was fiddling with a microphone and waiting for the last few stragglers to come and fill up the equestrian ring so he could begin. Again, the two men exhanged a telling glance around her.

"You gonna go up there with him?" Pacho said lowly, hands now crossing behind his back. Miguel shook his head.

"You go. I'll stay here. Better view."

Diana stayed demonstratively rooted to the spot when Herrera started moving. He shot her a look, which she pretended not to notice in favor of striking up more mindless small talk with Miguel. Apparently Herrera decided that it wasn't worth making a big deal out of, choosing instead to let her be and weave through the audience until he reached the bottom of the stage, exchanging a greeting with Santacruz and glowering over the assembled crooks and accomplices.

Gilberto's speech was... full of pathos and grandstanding, and too many high-minded terms for such a petty crook, she thought. When did the delusions or grandeur usually start appearing, she wondered. Was it with the first million? The first billion? But it's the core of the announcement that makes her gasp and sets the wheels in her mind into overdrive, the implications just mounting up. She spares a quick glance at Herrera at the foot of the stage, his face too demonstratively blank save for furrowed brows. Miguel beside her is more expressive, but quick to reign his face back in. Among the surprised gasps and whispers all around it tells her enough. Briefly, she thought of making a comment to Miguel, but his jaw is set so tight she can hear the grinding of teeth and she doesn't have anything productive or intelligent to say anyway, so she lets it be. Swallows the bile that rises up in her throat as Gilberto proclaims 'For our children! And for our children's children!', and tries not to roll her eyes. Or gouge his out, for the sheer gall of it. Because here she stands, approaching thirty-five and still deathly afraid to bring a baby into a world they have made so violent, so toxic, so dangerous. Meanwhile Salome is without her parents, both murdered by this unending war. Meanwhile a David Rodríguez flounces around as some sort of better henchman, he and his cousins all cushy and carefree thanks to daddy's blood money. It churns the stomach with rage.

"Mrs Galindo! Just the woman I've been looking for!"

The crowd parts for him, less so out of reverence and more because people are slowly drifting away, gossip already flying about, Diana is pleased to note.

"Mr Rodríguez, what an...impactful speech." She said demurely, keeping all her sneering tucked safely away behind the mask of officiousness.

"It's the coup of the century!" She catches Miguel's scoff just in the corner of her eye. "It also means transferring our assets into the...ah, ...legitimate sphere, if you will." He's got his arm around her shoulders again, leading her back towards the dancefloor, the buffet and tables, the house. By chance and his smaller stature, he's speaking almost directly into the shoulder with the hidden microphone attached, detailing all the financial acrobatics he wants her to perform to save all their assets from both law- and taxman. There she went again, trading complicity for access. --- Just over an hour on and the gender ratio has left Diana sitting squished between Herrera and the youngest of the Mrs Rodríguezes, but at least he seems to have taken his measure of her. And swallowed her undergarment excuse. Swallowed...undergarments. She snorted semi-loudly into the cocktail she'd been nursing this whole time, the ice in it all but dissolved. Dammit, here eyes were getting heavier by the minute and it wasn't even that late, barely midnight. Then again she had been up since five and alcohol, even though she hadn't had all that much, always made her sleepy. And the guests had started trickling away, leaving behind a scene of mild devastation.

"I think Mrs Galindo needs to go home." It was Franklin Jurado speaking, Christina's head buffered on his shoulder as she slept. Diana had just enough self-control left to not tell him to fuck off. Or maybe she really is too tired to; doesn't even have it in her to get annoyed at Gilberto's patronizing tone as he agrees.

"Yes, why don't you drive Mrs Galindo home?"

She hums more in acknowledgement than agreement to Hererra's suggestion, tired eyes hazily following his line of sight to the man stepping forward from the shadows at being summoned. His gaudy shirt reminds her of one Juan Mateo had worn on their honeymoon and which she had hated half because it had been a gift from her horrible mother-in-law, and half because it was the most hideous thing she had ever seen. And then realization hits and her blood runs ice-cold and alertness slams back into her consciousness like a bullet.

"Mr Velasquez." her voice is so weak and brittle, she thinks it must give her away if nothing else did so far. She took one last sip to wet her dry mouth, and because frankly she needs the alcohol now more than ever. The suggestion to call a taxi died on her lips as she realized that there was truly no way out of this. So, she steels herself and stands on sore feet, bidding the bosses of Calí and their dependents a good night. "I would be much obliged, Mr Velasquez."

Navegante approximated a smile and stalked ahead. --- Well, there goes his progress. He'd been down to three smokes a day, four on a bad day, due in part to an iron adherence to some hard and fast self-imposed rules, such as no smoking in his office (or, in fact, no smoking inside the building at all). Tonight, however, is the night of the Calí godfathers' big announcement party, and Javier had not moved from his office for longer than a quick bathroom break or coffee run. He had also gone through half a pack of cigarettes in the last two hours, and his stomach was beginning to feel queasy the longer he spent glancing at the phone on the edge of his desk from the corner of his eye as he pretended to make his way through the mountain of paperwork that somehow never seemed to get any smaller. The fact that he'd woken that morning with the memory of Diana Turbay's lifeless body crumpled in that cupboard certainly hadn't helped.

He last looked at a clock around half past nine, when a very insistent cleaning lady had shooed him out of his office and he'd spent around ten anxious minutes hovering by the door in case the phone rang. It hadn't, and now here he was, eyes burning and brain mushy with his heartbeat a steady pulsing behind his temples. And he wondered–

Javier swiped up the phone before the first ring had even finished. "Miss Rivas!"

"I'm fine." She didn't sound fine. She sounded on edge. Rattled. Like she was trying to reassure herself. He gripped the phone receiver tighter.

"Where are you?" What was he gonna do? Drive all the way to Calí from Bogotá at half an hour past midnight? Even a flight would take hours, and raise suspisions to boot.

"I said I'm fine," she replied, nails clacking rhythmically against the plastic phone casing in what he knew by now to be a nervous tick. "I'm safe. I'm home."

Javier breathed a relieved sigh, rigid shoulders slumping a fraction. He supposed he could have ordered Duffy or Lopez to do something if push had come to shove, though what he honestly had no idea.

"Good, that's good."

"Mr Velasquez gave me a lift."

Who the hell was that? "Who the hell is that?" Javier asked.

"You probably know him as Navegante." Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Mentally he's already halfway out the door, physically at least halfway out of the office until the phone wire makes known its spatial limitations.

"You alright? Is he still there? Lock your door, double lock it, I-"

"I didn't give him the exact address, please calm down." He does, but only enough to catch his breath and not bolt out the door. There's a rustling from her end of the line, and she makes a sort of breathless little sound, somehwere between a sigh and a grunt, followed by a low but vicious curse.

"You okay?"

"It's the damn zipper again; I'm this close to pulling something. Hang on." Judging by the thud that reverberates she set the phone down on a counter or table. Javier's hand went to rub at the back of his neck, half reflex, half sympathy. "Let's focus on the real issue here. The announcement."

The way she said it was urgent, but he chose to believe this was due to wanting to get the message out and not to any concerns of Navegante lurking nearby. He had to, for his own sanity.

"Apparently Gilberto cut a deal with the government."

"The government?" Javier echoed weakly.

"The new Samper administration. I knew why I didn't vote for those clowns. No, that's ...I had many reasons for that actually, first and foremost of them being that the Liberal Party nowadays is a damn joke. And to think that this is the same party that my parents fought for in their youth! Anyway, enough of that. They get half a year to get their house in order, then turn themselves in on the smallest possible charges, minimal jail time, back out again after a few years and back into their cushy lives with all of their blood money laundered neatly away. A clean slate." He'd never heard her sound so bitter, and he'd heard a good deal of her opinions on the Gentlemen of Calí over the past year.

"So they're just going to get away with it." Javier grit out, equally livid. "Wait, you said Gilberto cut the deal? What about the others?"

"Yes, so here is where it gets interesting. I didn't get the sense that they knew. Beforehand I mean. You should have outfitted me with a camera too, because Miguel's face was priceless." Another grunt and then a triumphant little 'ha' and then her voice sounded clearer again, nearer as she picked the phone back up.

"He doesn't like it."

"None of them like it. Don't want to give up the power, if I had to guess. What is it with men and building their entire ego on how much they can make others fear them?"

Javier hummed non-committally, deciding that he had nothing valuable to add at this point.

"Yeah, you're right. So how do I get the 'ooof' ...the recording to you? Usual way?" Javier didn't even get to reply no when she went on, now audibly shuffling around her apartment and out of the rest of her clothes. "I can't believe I almost forgot! I met the money launderer. His name is Franklin Jurado. He'll be in Calí until Tuesday with his wife Christina. I somewhat promised her to meet for coffee on Sunday; if you can have one of your agents trail me you can get them."

She sounded so hopeful that he hated to have to dash it, even for her own safety, but snatching such an important cartel member so soon and with her so close would cast suspicion. She couldn't be involved. And he hadn't heard back from his agents yet, which was possibly a bad sign. Javier made up his mind, cringing while he glanced at the clock to make some mental calculations.

"I'm coming over."

"To Calí?"

"Yes, what's your address? Unless you'd rather meet somewhere else?"

She gave her address, sounding stunned. He jotted it down under the note he'd made of Jurado's name; he'd need someone to look the guy up first thing tomorrow.

"You're not leaving now, are you? It's late, you need to sleep." Javier could picture the way her brow creased in a frown just from the tone of her voice.

"No, I'll call you again as soon as I know when I'll be there." Driving the whole way would be a nightmare and eat up most of the day. Javier whirled around and pulled an atlas from the shelf behind his desk. Flying in directly was out of the question with the way the godfathers had the whole city under surveillance. Buenaventura, under two hours by plane and then about two and a half from there to Calí. Yes, that would work.

"Goodness, you're actually serious about this."

"Of course." Javier stopped in his tracks for the first time in several minutes now, taking a moment to breathe and slump in his seat. He was exhausted yet wide awake, and likely would be for some time. "I mean, if that's okay with you."

"Of course, umm...anything in particular you'd like for dinner?" Javier stopped. He would be staying for dinner, possibly the night, too. In a hotel of course, he couldn't possibly impose-

"You don't have to cook for me." His mouth said, but his stomach said bandeja paisa. Briefly, the thought of taking her out for dinner popped up, indulgent and unbidden, and was immediately squashed by the thought of the godfathers' eyes everywhere. "I can pick something up on the way."

Her protest turned into a yawn not two syllables in. Javier couldn't help the small smile appearing on his face, felt it only by how it twinged his tense jaw. "You're tired, you should rest."

"We're not finished with this." She mumbled obstinately. "You rest."

"I will." He would, eventually. "I'll call you tomor- ...today." A quick glance at the clock revealed it was now past midnight. She made a very grumpy, very adorable huffy sound, mumbling something about the inexorable passage of time.

"Sleep well, Miss Rivas."

"You too..." There was a rustle and the quiet squeak and groan of a bedframe and mattress. He waited a moment, unsure whether more was coming or whether she'd just been too tired to disconnect the call. A short silence burst into a quick curse, her voice remote but still clear enough to make out. "...God fucking dammit, fucking contact lenses! Son of a rabid-"

"Miss Rivas?" By the rapid padding of feet and the continued cursing he had to suppose that she hadn't heard, and by how either sound seemed to be at about equal distance with neither decreasing, he supposed further that the phone was still in her hand. As soon as he heard the 'thunk' that most likely meant that the phone had been tossed down on some surface, he tried again. "Miss Rivas?"

"You're still there?" She sounded marginally more awake now, but not like this state would persist for very long.

"You didn't hang up." And perhaps Javier wasn't all too opposed to having the continued assurance that she was alright and her cover intact. "You swear very entertainingly, by the way."

"I'm glad my lack of filter and ladylike decorum amuses rather than appalls you." Splashing water interrupted them for a moment, but was quickly replaced by more colorful cursing.

"Please, don't hold back." Javier commented drily, not really expecting to be heard clearly since the satphone didn't have a loudspeaker.

"Very funny. Why don't you talk to me a bit more while I try not to poke my eyes out by accident-"

"I- ...I'm afraid I don't really have anything interesting to talk about."

"And I don't have enough brain left today for anything more taxing than the weather anyway. I just need your voice; I'm dead on my feet. How was the weather in Bogotá today? I always found it so cold when I was at university there. Nothing like Medellín. They used to call me 'chompa' at uni because I would never go anywhere without one. Too cold. And of course Calí is so much warmer than either..."

"It's been quite grey here, and not especially warm either. Back home it's at least twice as warm but I've been here so long now I think I'm more used to it."

"I never asked where exactly you're from..."

"Laredo, Texas. It's right on the border with Mexico."

"Laredo..." She mused, puttering about still. "Oh like the song? As I walked walked out on the streets of Laredo..." She must really be tired and devoid of all usual inhibitions, Javier thought, to just start singing like this. Not that he minded. She got halfway through the first stanza until she faltered, the lyrics escaping her. Her voice was soft and with that same raspy edge she had when speaking. It was a voice suited best to lullabies he thought; or to yearnful ballads performed in smoky bars, or some similarly wistful thing. "Aren't I supposed to be the one talking?"

"Hmm, this works too. I'm almost done, so you won't have to humor me much longer. So, tell me more about Laredo while I brush my teeth." --- He ended up talking longer than that - divulging more than he ever planned to as per usual, of the town and the ranch that sat up against the river - until she was settled back into bed and about to doze off for good. If nothing else, it settled him too somewhat, though sleep would elude him for a a good while yet even despite the physical and mental exhaustion the day, or in fact the whole week, had brought him. No sooner had he disconnected the line with a soft 'Sleep well' than the phone rang again.

"Yes?"

"Boss, I've been trying to reach you for half an hour!" Duffy's voice sounded strained and any modicum of relaxation Javier might have gained dissipated with immediate effect. He scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes and resigned himself to dealing with one more catastrophe.

"Duffy, what is it?" Agents Duffy and Lopez had organized their own infiltration of the godfathers' party, courtesy of the intel provided by Miss Rivas as well as what Operation Cornerstone had shaken loose. At least he knew it was nothing that had blown the cover of his informant.

"Okay well, no use beating around the bush here. Our guy got made, and Calí knows we're here-" Javier listened to his agent's report with his frown deepening. Why was it that with every step forward, another wrench was thrown his way?

"Alright, close up shop. Leave as soon and as inconspicuously as you can. I'll see you back here at the embassy on Monday morning." He ordered. Hopefully the gentlemen and their security would leave it at the gesture of intimidation, especially if they thought themselves well on the way of becoming untouchable, but one could never be too careful.

---

Javier consulted the clock for what must have been the hundredth time that evening. Normally the bar down the street from the embassy wouldn't be his first or even fourth choice, but tonight he was looking for a place to wind down with the shortest possible distance to cover afterwards. The danger of being accosted by any of his co-workers was one he'd simply have to brave. If luck was on his side for once, none of the more sociably inclined would be there any more, or too engrossed in their own merriment to notice him slink in, and if not, his curmudgeonly ways were known well enough that a civil yet decisive refusal would hopefully be deterrence enough.

It was for Stoddard, but of course not for Bill Stechner, the non-drug-lord bane of Javier's existence. Ostensibly on the same side, though Javier would argue that the CIA was on its own side entirely. Or that their budget would be spent more productively by making the damn lot of them just feed dollar bills through a shredder, but no one asked Javier about these things. So, he sits and grinds his teeth while Stechner's smug voice grates on his nerves. Visualizes strangling the CIA station shief with the tie he'd just pulled off and balled up into his pocket moments ago, which does a little bit to alleviate the almost overbearing urge to smash Stechner's face into the bar top. "Oh come on, you don't care about American streets or dead Colombians."

And the deal? How the hell does Stechner know about the deal when it's only just been announced? For a split-second, he wonders whether Diana- but no, he trusts her completely, and he hasn't told anyone except a handful of his agents about her, deciding this information was so sensitive it was strictly need to know, and even they only knew her by her assigned code name. Not even the ambassador knew that he had such a high-priority informant on the inside of the cartel. Stechner must have some government source, be it an informant of his own or bugs in the offices of ministers. The way he only mentions Lopez and Duffy's operation confirms it.

"Same goal my ass." Javier muttered into his whiskey after Stechner slithered away. This had been supposed to be a one-drink-night, but now he was feeling like he might need at least three more, if only to dull the screeching of his swirling thoughts.

It's no use. He's all keyed up still, something feels like it's burrowing inside of his chest, some sort of woodland critter both desperate and unable to settle down. He's tired, too, of course, eyes heavy and burning and sore, feels like his eyeballs are coated in smoke and pitched open by caffeine. He shouldn't have had that much coffee that late; despite his high tolerance it does still have an effect on him. Thank goodness on any given day, but right now he's regretting it. His leg jumps, knee knocking painfully against the bar front. He feels eyes on him. They've been there since he walked in, furtively glancing throughout his confrontation with Stechner, but bolder now. He feels it like a prickle on his skin. Turns his gaze finally. Sees long dark hair, open, melting into the late shadows of the bar. Too long, but it'll have to do. She's... he's definitely seen her around before. The elevator? Different department, perhaps press office, or visas. Definitely nowhere near the DEA offices or he would have known her name. She's coming over now, leaning easily against the bartop, slender fingers tapping, and an easy, eager smile. Her hair isn't dark enough, and too long and wavy all the way through instead of only curling at the ends, and nothing else about her appearance quite matches up, but she's pretty and willing and he's pent up and about to crawl out of his skin. And so he lets her take him home. And he means to leave right after, he really does. If only not to give any impression of this having even the slightest potential of becoming any more than it is. But Katie (that's her name, but he's learnt a long time ago to not groan out names during, because whether the name is correct or not it always turns out bad somehow), Katie sleepily mumbles that he can stay because it's late, and truth be told? He's completely shot, feels like he couldn't move if he wanted to. And the thought of dragging himself back to his empty apartment with only his thoughts for company is the most unbearable thing at this moment. Her mattress is too soft and despite the fact that he only laid on it until waking again at first light, it messes up his back for almost a week. --- It is indeed much warmer in this side of the country, and an especially hot day in Calí itself. On the coast where he'd landed, there had at least been a breeze blowing in from the Pacific, but the further inland Javier drives the less the air seems to move. He felt the sweat start to gather at his hairline, and down his neck, as soon as he parked the rental car in front of the cluster of new-ish high rise apartment blocks in one of the north-western boroughs of the city.

Javier grabbed his one piece of luggage and the bag of takeout he'd picked up on the way, just as promised, and walked up to the first building to study the panel beside the door for the correct bell to ring. A sharp whistle made him look around, then up at the next building. Miss Rivas was all but hanging off the side of her balcony, waving down and giving Javier half a heart attack seeing as she was on the sixth floor. He waved back in acknowledgement, then jogged over to the already buzzing door, which he pushed open. Blessedly, there was an elevator, and not two minutes later he stood in front of her apartment, the door swinging open before he could raise his hand to knock.

"Hi." She sounded breathless, as if she'd run up six flights of stairs, not across an apartment.

"... Miss Rivas." In his relief, he'd almost slipped. Almost called her by her first name, but they're not there yet, strangely. Or not strangely at all, in fact. It's quite by design. It's a way of keeping himself detached; professional. Or whatever excuse he could come up with to maintain this state of perpetual denial.

"Umm, ...lunch? I brought lunch." He thrust the bag foward, watched it swing between them while cringing inwardly.

"Good! I've only been up for two hours or so; I don't even care what it is, I'm starving!" Carefully, she took the bag from him, one hand supporting the bottom like a newborn's head, the other brushing his as she looped her fingers through the handles. "Come in, come in."

Javier stood a full three seconds or so after she'd already turned around and walked down the narrow hallway, rooted to the spot and struck dumb like some sort of imbecile. His skin prickled in all the places he'd let Katie touch him the night before, which, admittedly, hadn't been too many - but still enough to be burning him with that familiar mixture of guilt and shame now. So he does what he does best when it comes to emotions: deny and repress.

He left his shoes beside the pair of strappy heels she must have discarded there the night before, probably in a hurry to get the severely uncomfortable looking things off after spending a whole evening in them. The hallway opened into an open living room and dining area, the balcony beyond that, and a galley-style kitchen off to one side not unlike his own apartment. It was a sparse place, not quite enough furniture to fill the space - a long couch and coffee table, a low sideboard with a TV on it, none of it new save for the stereo system that was of course on and softly playing the usual eclectic music mix. Javier dropped his bag beside the couch where it would be out of the way. The dining table barely deserved the name. It was a small, round, reedy looking thing, just large enough for two, or maybe two and a child, with two plastic fold-out chairs. On it stood a light blue and white ceramic fruit bowl that currently held zero fruit, just the recording device he'd given her and... some pieces of golden sapphire and diamond jewelry? Puzzled, Javier picked up what turned out to be a bracelet. He raised one eyebrow at her as she set down plates for them.

"Got a raise?"

"Ha! As if. I should have, though. What with the extra work I got saddled with last night. That's the problem with rich people. Miserly. The more zeroes on their bank statements the stingier they get." She scoffed, ranting away all the way to and fro carrying the cutlery. "No, this-" she stabbed a spoonhandle through the bracelet and swirled it around once, twice, before glowering at the gemstones darkly, "This is what Mrs Jurado had me borrow to complete my outfit yesterday. Obviously I have to return them, which is why I'm meeting her for coffee tomorrow afternoon. If you do your whole government agent covert spy observation thing you could at least get eyes on her, maybe even him, too. Franklin Jurado, the money launderer. You can just smell the entitlement on him. I bet he went to one of the really fancy schools over there, like Princeton. Or maybe Harvard."

"I'm glad to see you're making friends." Javier had followed her to the kitchen, leaning against a cabinet and watching her place the food on plates, any attempts to help or make himself useful deftly rebuffed as always.

"I think it was Harvard actually. I think he mentioned it- It's on the recording, in any case. Real smug about it too. La Javeriana is a perfectly good university, too. Older, too. Luis Carlos Galán attended it, you know? Graduated in economics and law, like I did."

"Like the new president, too." Javier dared remark, only to be leveled with a death glare that could make a man fear for his life.

"Professor Samper, oh yes," she said pointedly, thrusting the plates at him, "Don't remind me please. The whole family attended, have for generations."

Javier dutifully carried over the dishes and set them down, returning a moment later for the pitcher of water. Diana followed him, wiping her glasses with her tee-shirt in a gesture he had come to know was more about calming down than it was about being able to see better.

"Right, no politics at meal time. Tell me something interesting instead." Diana attacked her food with a frightening kind of fervor. And suddenly the only thing he could think about was what Stechner had told him the night before, how the deal would go ahead, a neat little setup by politicians whose only objective was looking good enough for re-election. Naturally, the words died in his throat. He shrugged and started digging in.

"Nothing huh? Okay, well, how about this then: How many Mrs Rodríguezes are there?"

"Is this a trick question?" There should be one only, seeing as Miguel was widowed and his little shit of a son wasn't exactly husband material - nor looking to be. "One?"

"Close. There's three."

That didn't make any sense. "That doesn't make any sense. Miguel is widowed and David- ...Gilberto! Gilberto?"

"Gilberto." She confirmed. "All three. They have a rota, apparently. On Sundays they just sit around while he watches whatever game is on which sounds thrilling. And I thought my marriage was crap."

"Huh." If Javier thought that the farcical nature of governmental - and inter-governmental - bureaucracy had prepared him for the absurdity of chasing drug kingpins he had apparently been sorely mistaken. But mostly, he was relieved to see that Diana was in such good spirits again, what with how affected she'd sounded the night before. Lunch was over in no time at all, and Javier felt his short night starting to catch up with him. He yawned surreptitiously as he helped carry the dirty dishes back into the kitchen, or what he thought had been surreptitious anyway.

"Okay, coffee or nap?"

"Huh?" Dammit, his eyes were burning. Diana took the plates and deposited them in the sink, leaving him to blink sluggishly. "I can do those. The dishes."

"You're about to keel over. Haven't slept a wink, have you?"

"About three hours, and another half hour or so on the plane. I'm fine, really." He admitted. The fact that he had to lean against the cabinets did not exactly serve to strengthen his argument. Diana tutted.

"I need to run some errands, grocery shopping and the like. If you are really determined to get to work on the recording I'll make you a good strong coffee before I go, but I would personally suggest you use the time to catch up on some sleep. The couch pulls out."

It was tempting, it really was, but Javier also knew that he'd have a harder time falling asleep later if he messed up his rhythm more now.

"Coffee it is, then." She set to work in the same breath.

A fond smile pulled at Javier's lips. "Thank you." --- Even knowing she was fine and safe now, she hadn't expected that listening to the recording would be so excruciatingly stressful. She had very helpfully compiled a list of encounters, along with time estimates (and a very evocative caricature of the chief accountant, Guillermo Pallomari), which had allowed him to fast forward through the recording to get a general overview. Even so, he'd gotten stuck on several bits, even replaying a few. The introductory round, for one. Her panic attack in the bathroom. Or the segment with that slimy little bastard David Rodríguez. Her quick thinking and clever diversion of Pacho's suspicions. He hated hearing the strain in her voice, the barely masked anxiousness that none of them even seemed to notice but that stood out to him so very clearly. His jaw was clenched so tight he could feel his teeth grinding– The lock on the front door clicked open, jolting Javier from his focused state. A quick glance at his watch told him it had been well over three hours since she'd left for her errands, afternoon now melting into early evening. In his haste to get up he tangled the wires, cursing as he he sat back down. Diana huffed into view, heavy-looking bags on each arm.

"Hey there," she threw him a quick smile before vanishing into the kitchen to set down her load, re-emerging a heartbeat later. She crossed the distance in a few strides, lightly squeezing his shoulder as she leaned over him to peer at the notes he'd taken. "How's it going? Anything viable?"

Her touch, given with such casual affection, electrified him. He'd never been, never considered himself the type of person anyone would come home to.

"Plenty." He needed to collect himself, clear his throat and mind and get a grip. "You did amazing work." And I can't use it in court because you incriminate yourself all throughout.

"Good, I'm glad. Would have been a re-"

The shrill ringing of her landline interrupted them. Immediately, Javier mourned the loss of her touch, the spot on his shoulder where her hand had lingered now turning cold. Pull yourself together, dammit!

The telephone was mounted on the wall that separated hallway and kitchen, and had a cord long enough to allow for a range of movement to about halfway into the latter. Unsure of whether he was supposed to be listening, he tried to go back to the recording. Only tried rather turned into pretended. As quickly as he had put the headphones on, he took them off again, watching Diana for a moment of hesitation. She was shuffling around the kitchen entrance, emptying her shopping bags with the phone receiver pinned between her cheek and shoulder. She was talking to her aunt, tense and worried, but managed a small smile when she caught Javier's eye. Wordlessly, he started helping her putting the groceries away as directed.

"No, I know you don't approve. No one approves except Gabriela, and incidentally Gabriela is also the only one who saw that I was making a mistake right from the start and the only one who tried to dissuade me from going through with the wedding, and if I'd only listened to her and my gut back then, I wouldn't-" She turned her back at this, and Javier put away the last few pieces and left the kitchen, giving her the pretense of privacy at least. It wasn't like the apartment was so vast that her voice wouldn't carry. He walked over to the stereo system he'd turned off earlier and switched it back on, fiddling with the volume by way of looking distracted.

"...No, and I don't want to talk about it any more. I don't care what the Pope says; the Pope was never married! ...Yes, put her on; I think that's better for everyone involved."

Immediately her voice and stance relaxed, became softer and warmer, and the conversation a lot more one-sided as Diana talked to Salome on the phone. Javier's knees were starting to protest at his half-kneeling by the sideboard, but he was too transfixed by trying to determine whether the little girl would perhaps say a few words today. She sometimes did, though very rarely, and Javier had yet to witness it himself.

"Okay, my little darling, you be good for granny, alright? Sleep well, sweetheart. I love you. Bye-bye."

Diana hung up and shuffled over, taking a seat on he edge of the coffee table closest to him. Javier gave up on the volume dial and turned towards her.

"Everything okay?" She nodded and took off her glasses to rub at her eyes. Cautiously, Javier placed his hand atop hers where it laid in her lap, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the top of it soothingly. "And are you okay?"

"I will be; I just- ...I try that she at least hears my voice every day, even if I can't be there and- She's so little and has already lost so much, and every time I have to leave I feel like I'm just making it worse and like maybe that's why she still barely talks. And it's so unfair! She's just a little girl and she needs her mother or at least she needs a mother and we try - my aunt and I try our best but we're all that's left of this family." Her voice got quieter with each word, fading to a whisper before ceasing. Javier didn't know how to respond; all the obvious things seemed like meaningless phrases, frivolous and unhelpful. Diana deflated, her whole frame drooping like misery personified. She let out a single, quiet sob, gripping his hand in both of hers like he was her anchor. "I just wish I at least knew what I was doing."

She wiped at her eyes angrily, blindly grasping for the glasses on the table behind her until she found them and shoved them back on. She stood abruptly, but did not let go of his hand, instead tugging him up, to which his beleaguered knees only objected more.

"Sorry, forget that. Let's sort out dinner." She stalked back into the kitchen, and Javier could only follow of creaky knees, the blood rushing back down into his feet and making them prickle and almost falter. She finally let go of his hand in front of the refridgerator, throwing open the door of it like a shield between them.

"So for dinner I was thinking-"

"Miss Rivas." She didn't even hear him, just went on explaining what was possible with the ingredients she'd picked up earlier. Javier laid his hand on top of hers gently, feeling the tension in her fingers, the tremble in them as she gripped the fridge door tight. Gently still, he eased her grip and shut the door. She didn't even look at him, obstinately staring down at the tiled floor instead.

"I'm in control of my emotions." She declared defiantly. "I'm not a liability to your investigation."

"I know." Javier took both her hands in his now, squeezed them once, still gentle. Kept his voice soft too; soft and low and for her ears only. "I know you ...aren't. It's okay. You're doing so good. You're doing amazing. It's okay." On the last few words, he raised their entwined hands, nudging her chin up to look at him. Took in her reddened but stubbornly dry eyes, her lips pressed into a painful line, and the hard set of her jaw and brows. All she needed was one final push to let go, one word of permission, and he gave it gladly. "It's okay."

He'd expected an outburst now, an explosive outpouring of grief or at least wrath. Instead, Diana squeezed his hands back once before letting go, leaving him standing in the kitchen while she went into her bedroom. He heard her rummage around for a moment, then she returned with a small photo album in her hands which she carefully set down on the counter before throwing it open and flipping through the pages until she found the picture she was looking for. It showed what he assumed was her family. He recognized only her and Maritza, both noticeably younger then. Side by side, the family resemblance became more apparent, especially in comparison with the respective parents. Wordlessly, she flipped through the pages. In the next one Maritza's father was missing, the one after that, her own father was no longer there. The one after that showed the addition of a young man and what must have been a newborn Salome, him holding the baby with a broad, dimpled smile that his daughter had inherited. He was gone in the following picture, Diana's mother vanished in the one after that, until the last photograph showed only Maritza's mother, Diana herself, and little Salome.

"Some time after we cleared out Maritza's apartment, I went to Escobar's grave. If I was looking for some kind of satisfaction, I didn't find it there." She closed the album with a sharp snap. "The whole drive back, last night, I was sure I was about to end up fish fodder, and I just thought... with how my aunt's health is failing, will Salome be all alone in the world before she's even five?"

Javier swallowed hard, choking on the words that had sprung up onto the tip of his tongue. That he wouldn't let that happen (but it could have happened not twenty-four hours prior and there would have been nothing he could have done about it). That he would make sure the little girl was taken care of (How? He wasn't kin and Diana's aunt didn't know him. And he wasn't exactly prime fatherhood material, so what exactly did he think he could do?). And in the back of his head, he still heard the desperate shallow little breaths she'd heaved during her panic attack. So different words jumped onto his tongue instead, tumbling out before he could ever think through the implications.

"Do you want out? You don't even have to go meet Mrs Jurado tomorrow, I can organize to have you pulled out within the week. And your family too. You'd be safe." 'I am never doing this again', she'd said. Well, he wouldn't make her. And considering what he knew now, that his whole investigation was just a front? What was the damn point of it anyway?

Diana smiled, just a slight quirk of the corner of her lip, but the first in what felt like hours now. "Now? No. I don't want anyone else having to go through what my family and I went through, here or anywhere. This kind of...lust for power - it's grasping. It never stops, it is never satisfied. And it doesn't care what stands in its way."

"You sure?" He ought to tell her, he really ...but even though the betrayal isn't his, just his to hand on, he hesitates again.

"I am. Starting with meeting Christina Jurado tomorrow. Besides, you'll be with me all the way through."

"Yeah," his voice creaks like a rusty hinge, "Yeah, of course I'll be. Just a stone's throw away." --- "Goodness, does she ever shut up?" Javier shut the door behind himself, hanging up the spare key on the hook by the door. They'd just returned from Diana and Mrs Jurado's coffee and lunch date - separately for safety purposes - and Javier's head was still swimming. Diana might be reasonably called talkative, but at least she had things to say. Christina Jurado, it turned out, could talk a mile a minute without saying much of substance at all. Diana had been all but steam-rollered by the barrage of conversation and Javier, who had listened closely to all two and a half hours of it, was starting to feel the beginnings of a pressure headache building.

"Without being condescending, Agent Peña, there is so much that men don't understand about the way women talk with each other." Diana peeked out into the hallway with a raised eyebrow. "Besides, she may well have been... uuh-"

"May have been what?" After discarding his shoes, he walked into the apartment fully. Diana frowned, then touched a fingertip to the side of her nose with a meaningful look. When he didn't light up with sudden understanding, she gave a good-natured yet long-suffering sigh. And Javier really thinks he should probably have slept more than four hours, but his back was now paying the price for his stint on that marshmallow fluff that passed for Katie's mattress, and also his mind liked to give him trouble when it ought to quiet down.

"She may have been what, Miss Rivas?"

"Mrs Jurado, I have good reason to believe, likes to uhh... sample the product." The penny rolled around Javier's exhausted mind a moment longer before dropping.

"...You mean to tell me she was high on cocaine the whole time?"

"Yes. Why are you whispering?" Why indeed. Javier cleared his throat and wondered why this revelation left him so scandalized. "She did use on Friday night, too, which is a frequency I honestly find alarming. I hope it's more of a weekend thing- Franklin knows, but I don't think he has any idea what to do about it. I'd reckon it's something they're both keen to keep under wraps, though for different reasons. I don't imagine the gentlemen would be overly thrilled, especially the brothers. They like to keep a pretty tight hold on everything even remotely to do with the business."

"Huh... what the hell are you do-" While he had been musing on this new development in his sluggish mind, she'd stuck one hand down her blouse from the top and the other up it from the bottom, fumbling around for a moment before pulling the wiretap she'd been wearing for the meeting out and handing it to him non-chalantly.

"When's your flight?"

"Uh, late. Later. Ten-ish." He'd be back in Bogotá before midnight, but there was the drive back to Buenaventura to consider. Even so, it was only mid-afternoon now. Javier rubbed his hand over his burning eyes. His brain was no longer in a state to be doing that kind of math and he sighed, the coffee he'd just had clearly not doing anything.

"You have at least an hour to get some sleep. Come lie down." She was out from in front of him and across the room before he could blink tiredly, already pushing back the coffee table and bending to pull out the couch. Javier meant to protest, he really did. But. Sleep beckoned. And so, with heavy feet dragging across the laminate floor, he acquiesced.

"Thanks." He mumbled, gratefully receiving a pillow.

"I'll wake you in an hour, hour and a half tops." She already sounded further away than she should be, considering she was by the sofa-bed's - and his - head still. Javier hummed a reply, more affirmative sound than any proper words. As he drifted off, he thought he felt gentle fingers brushing the hair back from his forehead. But surely that was just wishful thinking, for what else could it be? ---

So, six more months of looking busy and doing nothing while the Calí godfathers revved up operations to squeeze as much money as they could out. He'd had to send his agents home after they'd been splashed all over the front page of the Espectador, so not only did the DEA not currently have any presence on the ground in Calí, it also left Diana without even the faintest layer of protection. And with the massive stink the Colombians, fronted by General Vargas, had kicked up about it, he couldn't send in any replacements, no matter how eager or indeed fastidious Agent Feistl was. And now the incident in Yumbo. The youngest of the dead had only been six years old. Javier glowered at the TV report where the safety inspector was giving his final report. Natural gas leak... yeah, sure. This thing reeked; he felt it in his bones that the cartel was responsible somehow. And he couldn't go after them. The desire to go find Stechner and smash his stupid smug face through the screen became near unbearable. He turned the TV off before the urge manifested into action.

He sat down behind his desk, taking a moment to look around the largely dark and empty office space around him before opening that particular drawer on the top right and taking out the arrest warrants. Their money and power and the influence both bought meant that the Calí bosses could move comparatively freely, but they still hid away. Carefully so, with the kind of tight-knit security that most heads of state could only dream of. Even if he did find a way to get at them, his hands were now unofficially bound. Well over a year's work, two good agents sent home, his informant risking her life every single day, more innocent dead who would never get justice, and what for? He hated it. He still hadn't told her. He thought about quitting.

The phone rang. He knew it was her. She didn't even try his home landline first now, knowing he spent his evenings at the office more often than not. Javier let it ring once more while mustering up the courage to come clean.

"Miss Rivas, good evening."

"Decidedly not. Did you watch the news?"

Javier scrubbed a hand over his face, squeezed his eyes shut so as to not have to look at the warrants spread out on his desk. There was only so much mockery a man could take. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"It was them. David specifically, that self-absorbed buffoon. They chewed him out for over half an hour over it, which is far less than he deserves."

"I figured." His throat felt tight; undoing another shirt button did precisely nothing.

"Gilberto worries it will give the government leverage to go back on the deal. I hope it does."

So did Javier, but knowing the special interests being at play here he didn't hold out much hope.

"And you have been made to recall your agents from Calí."

Javier gulped. "Yes."

"But they'll be replaced, right?"

Well, here goes nothing then. "...No."

Silence. She's not one to raise her voice even when upset and right now she must be livid. But perhaps she's shocked before anything else. Shocked into silence, into disbelief. He hates this, too. He wishes she would scream at him. Instead all he gets is a brittle quiet little '...What?'

And it's so unfair, all of it. Stechner doesn't have to face her with this, the bastard. None of the politicians who are oh so invested in this little vanity project do either, the consequences aren't real to them. They get to collect the empty symbol of a supposedly bloodless surrender, some good publicity, and don't have to do or face any of the ugly truths on the ground. He thinks about quitting again. Pats his pocket for the reporter's business card. If he's leaving, he thinks, he'd do it with a bang. Burn all bridges with a mighty barrage of his personal J'accuse. But for now that's all idle thinking.

"The surrender deal is going ahead as planned, because the powers that be will it so." He explained, truly understanding the sentiment of shooting the messenger at this very moment. "My hands are bound, there's nothing I can do."

"Bullshit!" Yeah, agreed. He tries saying more, justifications that turn to dust on his tongue before the words even leave his mouth. His heart's not in it, and it only serves to stoke her wrath, fearsome even over the distance of the phone line.

"What else will they get away with? If you're rich enough you can buy impunity? A blank cheque for murder? How many more people must die? Every day I go in and make myself complicit in it all on the promise that it will take them down!"

The worst part of this, perhaps, is that he knows she's right. If any of those senators in their cushy Washington offices had even a bit of her bravery, her steadfastness, her moral clarity–

"I'm sorry." His mouth is so dry. At last he opens his eyes again, glaring down at the warrants. Gilberto Rodríguez Orejuela. Miguel Rodríguez Orejuela.

"You're sorry?" Even now her voice is still level. Full of venomous disbelief and cold with rage, yes, but it has not risen even a single decibel.

"Miss Rivas, I-"

The line went dead with a click. She'd hung up.

--- --- ---

author’s notes:

*me, an idiot* this chapter will cover episodes 1 through to 4. this is a thing that is feasible and realistic

*me, 7000 words in and still at the party* ah. oh no.

in other words: remember last chapter when I cut things off because I wanted to keep it below 10k? yeah, that won’t be happening anymore. It takes as long as it takes. *shrug emoji* stay hydrated.

DIAN (Dirección de Impuestos y Aduanas Nacionales) is the Colombian government agency that is responsible for collecting taxes

Fernando Botero is a Colombian artist and sculptor, famous for these really chunky bronze statues, though the one I reference here is a complete fabrication and does not actually exist

according to the Art and Making of Narcos book Navegante’s actual name is Jorge Velasquez

‘chompa’ according to the dictionary I used, is a term for jacket used in Colombia and some other places

yes I looked up average temperatures in all these cities. I have concluded that it gets hot af in Laredo

La Javeriana (Pontificia Universidad Javeriana) is one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in Colombia. Presidential candidate Carlos Luis Galan did indeed attend there, as did president Ernesto Samper, who is president during the season in the show. He also did indeed teach there for a while in the early 80s, which fortunately matches up with my timeline. It was indeed founded before Harvard. Thirteen years before to be exact (1623 vs 1636)

here’s the drawing Diana made of Pallomari (contador=accountant):

tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @fromthedeskoftheraven @dindjarindiaries @shikin83 @cinewhore @maddoggrahaml @javier-djarin @huliabitch @heatherbel @shestillwrites1

didn’t ask to be tagged but reblogged all previous parts and therefore I assume you enjoyed it regardless of that you reading my story made me very happy list: @asoftcollection (thank you for indulging me and brainstorming the Jurados with me it helped a lot) @holographic-carmen @dermandalorianer @oldstuffnewstuff (sry it won’t let me tag ur sideblog hope this is okay)

Next Chapter

#narcos (tv)#narcos #narcos fanfic #javier pena x ofc #series #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#like gloss tag #multipart #javier peña #javier peña fanfic #my writing #part 4

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plague-of-insomnia · 4 years

Note

Hi, would it be ok for me to ask how did you know you were non-binary? I'm questioning and would like to get some opinions, but no pressure to answer if this is too personal!!

So I got this ask months back, and with everything that has gone on with my health I wasn’t able to answer it... so I don’t know if the person who sent this will even see it, but since it’s pride month I figured it was a good time to get to the queer/questioning asks that have been languishing in my poor ask box/drafts...

First of all, I don’t mind questions like this; if I ever find an ask too personal I’ll usually just ignore it, but something like this I think is important especially since NB is such a... underrepresented concept, for lack of a better word, so sometimes that lack of exposure plus the very broad nature of the label can make the whole questioning process confusing and stressful.

Honestly, for a looong time I had no idea I wasn’t cis.

I didn’t know that you could be anything other than male and female; I grew up in pretty conservative Latin American immigrant family, Catholic, so the idea of homosexuality was bad enough, lol.

I was very involved in the (then called) “Gay/Straight” alliance back in high school, as we had quite a few gay and lesbian students and teachers. I had mostly queer friends, but even binary transgender people weren’t... as prominent back then. Ofc they existed, but I didn’t have as much exposure in HS, and I went to a catholic college where many gay students had to essentially be closeted—for example, (openly) gay men weren’t technically allowed in fraternities. I loved my school, but some of its views on women and LGBTQ+ people were pretty dark age stuff, so again I had no idea that gender was a broader spectrum than simply male/female, cis or trans.

As far back as at least around early puberty, I created a kind of alter ego. A character opposite my birth sex, who was unlike any other I ever created and who has stayed with me my whole life. They helped me survive my childhood/adolescence. They felt very much “me” and yet weren’t simply the person I was in actuality made into the opposite gender. More like the aspects of my self/identity I knew subconsciously.

Often, when I fantasized, I would put myself into their role. Imagine being the other gender, what their body would feel like, what sex would be like. I’d ask friends i was comfortable with about what it felt like to be the opposite gender. I felt I needed to know so that I could “feel” it too. So I could truly imagine being a gender other than my own, with different parts, different secondary sex characteristics.

Yet at the same time, I felt comfortable enough with my birth sex that I explained these moments away. I was just thinking like a writer. Curious, bc that’s my nature. I never thought I could be trans because despite the power of these feelings, the sometimes intense longing I felt to be other than I was, the thought of completely changing my body, abandoning my assigned gender, felt horrible. Like I would be losing part of myself.

I first heard the term nonbinary during Pride. I had never encountered this before, and being who I am immediately looked it up. I was floored. Gender was a spectrum? You could be both male and female??

I felt like I had been hit by lightning.

I immediately reflected on a lifetime of “queer” thoughts. About my alter ego and how I had clung so tightly to them, how often I fantasized about having parts I didn’t have (without necessarily wanting to take away parts that I already did). How I went through phases where I dressed very masculine in some points of my life and very feminine in others. How I related so strongly to certain characters over others, and other past experiences that I had always managed to discard or shelve away in “comfortable” boxes.

And I reflected on how I had always had this... shame about these thoughts and feelings, this fear that they made me a “freak,” which might be why I had always been so quick to file them away with safe labels.

Discovering that I wasn’t alone was liberating. I read about and spoke to people who identified as NB, and often found they had a similar thoughts and experiences growing up as I did, and that helped cement in my mind, without a doubt, that I was also nonbinary, that I wasn’t purely male or female, but both.

I’ve suffered with depression my entire life, and am likely bipolar (something my current therapist agrees with, though I haven’t been formally diagnosed for various reasons). And once I opened my eyes and began questioning, I discovered that a significant part of my depression was actually tied to my gender dysphoria.

Exploring my gender identity in various ways, and finally accepting that I am NB/gender fluid has made me much more content.

Now, ofc there is no one way to be non-binary. So just bc my experience doesn’t align with what you’re feeling, doesn’t mean you’re not NB yourself.

Some people don’t feel any gender at all, and wish they didn’t have any secondary sex characteristics. Some want to be purely androgynous. Some feel mostly one binary gender or another, but maybe not “fully” male or female. Some feel a mix of both, and some shift between two or more genders.

For me, I feel like I’m always partly male and partly female, though sometimes one is more dominant than the other. Sometimes I’ll have gender dysphoria so bad that looking at cis bodies can be very upsetting, or the feeling of “missing” parts I feel I have/should have is so intense it’s almost all I can think about. Yet other times I feel pretty “stable.” Sometimes I feel like I’m thinking a lot about my gender and my presentation and others I barley think about it at all, I just “am.”

I feel freer now that I have shifted names and pronouns. Like I’m finally accepting my full self.

A huge part of why I enjoy playing Animal Crossing so much is bc I can indulge my gender fluidity by playing with how I dress my character... it brings me a lot of peace I can’t always get IRL.

I hope whoever reads this finds this helpful, original anon or anyone who might be wondering if they may be NB or not.

Feel free to send other asks if you’d like, or if you know me you can DM me and we can talk privately. 💕

Happy Pride 🏳️‍🌈

#non binary #nonbinary #questioning #pride month #poi answers #anon #long post #tw freak

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springday-aus · 4 years

Text

Rich Kid!AU with Suho [Junmyeon]

moodboard link

Group: EXO

Member: Suho / Kim Junmyeon

Genre: romance + lowkey reality check

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Suho has a black card and what else was I to do with this information?

yes, I am making Junmyeon into one of those rich ass fuckboys

you know the ones I'm talking about

the ones that have an endless amount of cars

(and prob names them)

the ones who you can literally tell has not worked a day in his life

despite having so much money, he's dressed like a hobo

but it's like the branded shit

like Supreme or Gucci or Chanel

(and whatever else is trendy)

so it’s “fancy”

unless he's gotta go to like a charity event that isn't really for charity

then he's like in a suit

hm.... when he gets dressed up

he gets dressed up

anyways

let's start from the beginning

he inherited his money from his parents, who inherited it from their parents, who inherited it from their parents.. and so on and so forth

so the Kims have like a shitload of money

LOADS

like "I can swim in my own money" loads

except he tried it once when he was a kid

lots of paper cuts

also the gold coin thing

wow did that hurt

it was not a fun day for rich kiddo Suho

and this is very stable money, i.e. old money

so you can only imagine the amount of people who are practically kissing their asses to get partnerships and whatever else rich people want

oh my god, when his mother was supposed to get married—it was chaos, literally every man was throwing themselves at her feet

tsk, tsk, tsk—it was just sad

don't get mixed up, their parents are happy together

or at least they seem like it

lowkey it was an arranged marriage and, like all rich people, his parents like to call it a "partnership" more than a “marriage”

anyways back to Suho

if he's being honest about this whole thing, he doesn't know if he really wants to (or is going to) inherit the family business

he’s not even an official heir

he has an older brother and Suho has watched enough dramas to know that the older ones are most likely to inherit the family business

so what is he supposed to do?

sure, they've been showing him what he's supposed to do

but does he actually know what he's doing?

or if he wants to do it?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

he's been living the same life he's been living since he was born

wake up, eat, shop, go home, sleep

yo, speaking of which

he legit cannot stop buying anything—he sees it, he wants it, he buys it

you know those ugly ass Gucci slippers

yeah, he got those

he bought two of them because they came in two colors

he wore them each like once and then it was never seen again

granted, he was shopping with Taehyung, one of his company managers who Suho had taken underneath his wing

Tae literally encourages people to buying stuff they don't really need

but like

he can afford lots of impulse buys

it's not like he's doing anything else

okay, that's a lie

he's also working at the office, but does it really feel like he's doing anything?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

anyways, let's get back to his horrible shopping habits

this is very important because this is how you come into the picture

he was out one day with Sehun, walking around one of the major shopping centers

just as they were leaving

there was a protest outside one of the department stores

the CEO had like 50+ charges of sexual assault and he was just let off

and wow

these people were angry

so where do you come in?

you….. you were in the front….

with a loudspeaker….

saying some things that…. no one should be saying with children present….

anyways

you were one of the people who’ve organized the event

because this asswipe was still working and got off with a warning from all of these assault charges????

you were not going to let this go

hence why you’re in the front, with your loudspeaker—spitting facts and roasting this man in front of his business

yeah, y’all were a bit of a smallish crowd

(a group of about thirty people)

but anyways

Suho saw you and

wow

his interest has been piqued

you were cute—yelling into your loudspeaker and your fist in the air

you have so much passion

Sehun has obviously noticed Suho had been staring at you for quite some time

it’s hard not to notice

just as Sehun was just going to push Suho in the order direction, that shitty CEO steps out

and……. in front of you……

you remained calm, letting his douche canoe spit as he rambles on about how these women were all over-reacting and that you were an idiot for spending your free time here and that you were nothing more than a liberal snowflake

at this point, people were all recording on their phones but this man clearly didn’t care and just went ham on you

and as he pauses to breath, you take your chance: “I’m the snowflake and yet you’re the one who needs to chill”

you see the anger just explode in his eyes and, as he continues to yell, he raises an arm

just as he was about to swing at you, Suho steps in

right between you and the CEO, blocking you and grabbing his arm

Suho: “and what is it that you think you’re doing?”

CEO: “let go of me”

Suho: “and let you hit this stranger? aren’t you just embarrassing yourself even more?”

for the first time, you can see him flush with embarrassment as he realizes the eyes and the cameras that are on him

but then he snarls at Suho: “who the hell do you think you are?”

Suho smiles, but it’s as fake as this man: “I’m heir to the Kim business, I could make you disappear in two phone calls, would you like me to show you?”

he freezes, before yanking his arm out of Suho’s hand and walking off

muttering something about millennials

he finally turns to you, as the crowd starts to disperse

Suho: “are you okay?”

You: “I could have handled myself, pretty boy”

Suho: “you think I’m pretty?”

**cue Sehun facepalming on the sidelines**

you sigh, tired from him already: “I can’t deal with this right now, that asshole is still out there and I’m not resting until he’s resigned”

you turn away, not even bothering to listen to his response and immediately head off

Sehun: “you really managed to blow that opportunity”

Suho: “shut up and drink your milk tea”

later that day, he may or not have used some of his family’s money for something other than meaningless shit

he was looking you up—you’ve done a lot of things and you have so many achievements

as well as enemies

yikes

he’s seen a lot of these people at the Kim’s charity auctions

and at business meetings

and the parties his family throws at their party mansion

oof—this is not looking good for him or these people

so what else does he do?

he does a bit more digging on you

is it creepy? yes

should he be doing this? probably not

so what does he find?

your fb, instagram, twitter—all the social media you’ve got

this is what happens when you have a lot of free time and you’re rich

he’s not really sure these accounts are your personal accounts though

there are pictures of you and the causes you’re involved with

but they’re not about you

he will admit that he’s very impressed with all of the things you’ve done

you’ve managed to make some major changes

environmentally, socially, and lawfully

(local laws ofc)

it wasn’t done without a lot of damages and enemies

but (from what he’s seen) you’re tough

next week, you’re leading another protest against a makeup company because of their false claims of being cruelty free

and their microplastic beads that’s polluting the ocean

and the high water demand due to the large amount being used in their products

jesus you have retweeted so many scholarly articles

and they’re like 40 pages long

Suho doesn’t think he’s read this much since college

(well his family paid their son’s way through, but you get what I mean)

he makes a note to shop there on the way sometime next week

just do he can see you again

the next week passes, more slowly than Suho had thought

as it comes, he goes ham on his shopping trips—he’s going to ALL the makeup department stores

never really buying anymore because he’s too busy on the lookout for you

he says it’s a “business trip”

(ignoring Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongdae + Sehun’s side eyes)

these people are really kissing up to his asses

literally getting up to his face and trying so many products on his faces

it’s like the spongebob episode when all those perfume people are spraying shit in his face

yeah... imagine that

his vision is getting blocked and his face is getting caked with every passing hour he spends

just as he was about to give up

the days roll around

and he finally spots you outside the shopping center with your loudspeaker and protest signs

you’re in a group circle, talking with some other people

who Suho is going to assume are other organizers

he manages to kind of sneak over as y’all are discussing

you were discussing the main points and what the game plan was

Suho was just…. there….

you didn’t even know until everyone was dispersed to their positions

Suho: “so what can I do?”

your eyes narrow at him: “pretty boy?”

he smiles, so stupidly bright: “yeah”

you eye him up and down: “are you lost? don’t you have a department store to get to?”

Suho: “this is a department store”

You: jesus christ

You: “okay, in case there was another misunderstanding on my abilities, I can handle this”

Suho: “I understand, I just want to help” :)

you nearly growl at him, what an idiot

you don’t realize you’ve been staring at him for a while, until a friend of yours steps up next to you and give you a little nudge

your friend whispers to you: “he’s a Kim, his involvement would mean more exposure”

you let out a deep sigh and shoo her away to deal with the stragglers who’ve just joined

You: “do you know why we’re here?”

Suho: “false claims of the makeup being cruelty free?” :)

You: “lucky guess”

You: “okay fine, we’re gonna be here for a couple of hours—he’s arriving soon and then he’ll leave, just as he always does and we’ll have to rally in case he gets aggressive”

Suho: “okay, got it”

he gives another smile and is so compliant, you figure he’ll be here for a bit and then leave

but, to your shock, he’s there the whole you’ve been there

which is like two hours longer than the others were supposed to be there

and even after the whole thing, he asks you what else is coming up

with another push from your friend, you reluctantly share the information with him from your organization’s website and facebook group and all this other stuff

but let’s be real, Suho already knew some of this stuff due to all of his internet stalking

it doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate you sharing the information tho

anyways

he comes to the next one—just as you told him from last time

and the other one

and another one

eventually, he just makes it part of his schedule to come and help out

at first, you didn’t really think he would show up

and when he does, you asked why

Suho: “I have a lot of free time”

somehow you don’t doubt that

the more he’s been coming, the more interested you were

not in the sense that “oh he’s so attractive for fighting for these causes alongside with me” interested

it’s more of the “what does this sneaky motherfucker want” interested

so you do some digging and it only confuses you more

shouldn’t be fighting his brother for that heir position for the Kim Incorporation?

why is he so interested in being part of this fight that involves… well, him?

isn’t he worried we’ll start attacking the Kims?

a lot of the other organization members notice it as well

because I mean, have you seen him?

(he is very attractive)

but also because this big name hot shot is at these small group protests, when he should be in a meeting or something

it doesn’t mean his efforts aren’t appreciated

he always gets the group things like food and supplies for strikes that last for longer than usual

for instance, you and your organization went to join teachers who were striking for a better contract with the school district

Suho came running with more posters, loudspeakers, shakers, coffee, sandwiches

the district teachers absolutely adored him—they even took pictures with him

but, you will admit that it’s nice to talk to him, despite the differences in social class

he likes talking to you too

(maybe more than he likes to admit)

it’s just

you have this fire in your eyes

the passion in your voice is clear

and you know what you want and you go for it, without any mercy for anyone who gets in your way

but you have that sensitivity and awareness and drive to help others that’s the whole point of you even being here

he wishes he had that

but, these last few weeks

he actually feels good to help you out

whether it’s running for supplies or providing donations for causes you’ve told him about

he feels purposeful

he feels good that he can help all these people and that his time is actually useful

and now, your organization is getting more exposure, which is nice

…. until the media gets involved and starts to paste Suho’s face on it

and that’s when you realize what he’s been doing

the Kim family had been using this whole thing as a reputation tactic

you feel stupid letting him into this

what you wanted to do was make a change for those who couldn’t advocate for themselves

and now all your hard work is being passed in the hands of some rich guy with way too much time on his hands

so, you did what you did best: dig some dirt on some filthy rich people

turns out there was a previous scandal with the family

they underpaid their staff

lots of people were getting low/little income and they were at a disadvantage because they were in a position where they couldn’t quit

when word got out, they said they would raise the wages

but some people say that these people didn’t

so you’re gonna find out—you snuck around their estate, talking to the staffers about the incident

most were unwilling to talk, but there were a couple of people who shared with you

they talked about they had medical bills, student debt, disabled family members, etc.

they had to work here and have to continue

apparently it was said that they would receive raises, but it isn’t livable—they only had 10 cent raises, but only after working for 5 years at a time

office workers obviously were higher up, but the servant staffers at the estate were taken advantage of

even after it was exposed, they didn’t really do anything about it

while you spent a couple of weeks snooping around

Suho had been at home

his parents were clearly upset because he’d been spending too much with the lower class

Mrs. Kim: “it’s good for our reputation, but you can’t keep spending your time with them”

Mr. Kim: “why can’t you be more like Dongkyu and spend more time in the office”

Suho: “I’m not even inheriting the company, why bother working?”

Mr. Kim: “of course you’ll inherit the company, alongside with your brother—it’ll be an even split”

Suho: “what if… what if I don’t want to inherit the company?”

Mrs. Kim: “what else are you going to do, if not a businessman?”

he doesn’t know why, but your face flashes in his head at that moment

in fact, you might get along with him better if he lost the inheritance

he wouldn’t be able to donate anymore

or get any supplies

maybe his support would be enough

the only question is to whether or not his family would cut him off

so, he speaks the truth

Suho: “I… I don’t know”

it’s been a couple of weeks since he’s seen you, so when he comes to the next meeting…

he was a bit excited

but when he comes

that fire is in your eyes once again… but it’s towards him

Suho: “hey” :)

You: “so when were you going to tell me that you’re an absolute douche-bag”

Suho: “what?”

You: “your face is all over our hard work and now you get all the credit?”

You: “not to mention, you don’t say shit about all these people who you work with”

You: “also your family is garbage—really? underpaying the staff and lying about it?”

he’s…... speechless

on one hand, you’re right

and on the other…. you’re right

what is he really doing here?

is he actually making a difference?

you, on the other hand, you’re….

you’re amazing

you have been able to draw attention to all these issues

and you’ve been able to make these changes

you might not be filthy rich, but it doesn’t mean you don’t have any influence

Suho can’t really say anything other than…

Suho: “I’m sorry”

You: “you think that’s enough?”

Suho: “no, it’s not enough, I just don’t know what else I can say”

to be fair, you should be really pissed—you are pissed

but he looks so dejected

you remembered talking to him about his family ties and their family history… is not pretty

so you soften up a bit

just a bit

but only because it’s him

the one who always comes with a smile on his face

the one who comes with more than enough supplies because he wants to make sure everyone is comfortable

the one who hangs around you because he knows how tired you are

the one who stays and listens to you rambling for hours about a million different social issues

you put a hand on his shoulder

You: “you don’t always have to say it, sometimes it’s a matter of doing”

thanks to you, he decided to do something

for another couple of weeks he doesn’t see you

but you?

you def saw him

on the news

he got busy

he went on his usual schedule (like his parents wanted)

but this time

he wasn’t quiet about it

I’m talking about pointing out the environmental drawbacks of these products

calling out the people during the “charity” events

cutting of trade with those who don’t give fair wages

he’s even actually been trying to actually raise those wages for the servants in the Kim house

(of course with the request of your help)

and wow

the news are just having a field day and eating it up

so that ultimately means his parents are seeing all of this

and what happens?

he gets cut off

he’s no longer inheriting the Kim fortune

Dongkyu is getting everything and he gets nothing

but with your help, he’s a successful business consultant

turns out that business degree did do some good

he helps develop local businesses and the money he makes

not only goes to good causes

but also to help promote your organization

with the rightful faces on it

as for you two?

let’s just say, you’re a lot closer than before

seeing his drive to help others

the effort he makes to recover from his blissful ignorance

you’ve grown a soft spot for him

as for Suho

he’s glad he has you

you’ve made him a better person

made him realize all the different things he can do

you two working together + practically dating?

the organization members are eating it up

(and you’re pretty sure they were betting but no one would say anything to your face)

anyways

dating a former rich kid! Suho is a lot more fun than you would have thought before

lots of dates are at your (or his) apartment

mainly yours because he’s got a studio and has a roommate

(he is broke)

anyways

you spend a lot of time working on building cases against companies

it’s mainly work bc humanity is evil

but when y’all aren’t working

it’s cuddle timeeeee

you would put shows on, but y’all aren’t watching

you spend a lot of time in his arms

or him in yours

(he likes being a little spoon and isn’t afraid to admit it)

and, as his official partner, you are always supported by him

Suho: “WOO-HOO YOU GOT THIS ANGEL”

You: “omg it’s flipping an egg, I’m not receiving a medal”

it’s cute tho

and ofc you got his back

when he was kicked out of the house, you straight up wreaked havoc

all those people were spreading rumors, you shut that shit down

when he kicked out with nothing more than a duffle of clothes, you became his safe haven

you helped him get back on his feet

found what he really wanted to do

and he was able to find someone really special

you ♡

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anarcho-smarmyism · 4 years

Note

what can someone who is young and has no real form of transportation do for direct action? i want to help but i have limited money and travel options

i used to be in your same situation; it wasn’t until i’d turned 19 and moved to a city that i was able to start volunteering anywhere, and even longer before i could make it a regular part of my life. now i have the time, money, and stability to go to demonstrations and meetings and stuff, so between work, finally enrolling in college again, and volunteering, i expect to be pretty busy for a while :> so don’t beat urself up too much about not being able to do much right now. if you make it a priority in your life, you’ll make it there.

in the meantime:

-educate yourself! contrary to the cliche, knowledge isn’t power on its own, but knowledge multiplies power explosively. the more you understand about the theory our movements are based on, the more history you read of past radical movements, the more history you read of the oppressors, the more sociology you understand, the more you understand the laws where you live and what political demands you can conceivably push for and help attain, the more you understand strategy in general, etc. the more effective you’ll be as a revolutionary once you can get started for real.

-network! you’re gonna need to start with liberals/demsocs, socialist book clubs, and pacifists -in other words, the people who can relatively safely post about their activism online. fb is good for this; you can look up ‘causes’ or ‘events’ and see stuff going on in your area. you might be pleasantly surprised to find things you can go to; if not, you can join groups and talk to people who are already engaged. hell, it’s likely you could even get someone to come pick you up for a bigger protest; they all want engagement. direct action is hard to come by in groups like these; one of the leaders of the climate crisis demonstration i went to most recently grouped the “Marxists” handing out socialist reading material and selling zines on the street with the flat-earthers and anti-vaxxers also protesting, people he wanted to distance himself from both physically and politically. be patient with the liberals, at least until you can find your comrades…they can be annoying and often obstructive, but they’re still our allies, and the most likely group of people to become comrades if given the space to. (this refers to regular ass people, not politicians. fuck Democrats.)

-educate others! spread socialist propaganda on social media, talk to people about current events and your convictions on them, maybe even make a zine of your own with a few friends, if someone’s being ignorant about something try and set them straight…or, more realistically, at least offer a leftist perspective in a way that’s as likely to be actually listened to and absorbed as you can. i’m gonna say it a second time: be patient with the liberals. one of the biggest advantages the right has over the left is that the right has no problem manipulating people and agreeing to disagree so long as they can convince them to move to the right politically, even by increments. we don’t need to be slimy and underhanded like them, but we would benefit from at least a little pragmatism in how we talk to people who are not already socialists.

-annoy and ostracize bigots and fascists! this one can be dangerous, obviously, so use your common sense; don’t pick fights if you don’t know how you’re going to win, don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger, etc. that said, most of the time when someone’s being a dipshit and repeating these talking points, you ought to speak up. having spent a lot of time around neo-fash/racist shitheads, i know from experience that if a bigot starts talking their shit and they don’t get told the shut the fuck up, they’ll just keep gradually saying more and more extreme shit until they cross a line. then next time, they’ll start at that line and toe it as long as possible, trying to get someone to “debate” them. your job is not to prove them wrong; often even if you’re 100% right, they won’t care and a lot of people around you won’t, either. so just make fun of them, shout them out if you can, dismiss everything they say as bigoted and therefore not worth listening to. (this is ofc assuming you can’t talk them down in a friendly way, report them for hate speech, etc) this is by no means a perfect solution, but it’s better to slow them down and make their hate difficult to act on, than to just ignore it altogether.

-be kind! too many leftists do it because they wanna be Smart and Right. if you’re motivated by compassion, your politics will reflect it, and you may be able to avoid some of the worst pitfalls the Left has to offer. besides, it’ll remind you what you’re fighting for, and just make your life better generally, in the meantime.

a lot of these require practice and some social skills; i’m a loud, mouthy extrovert irl, so it’s not a big deal to make a scene, or talk to new people and try to gauge whether they’d have any interest in socialism or not. experiment and find out what you’re best at, and in the meantime, do what you need to do so that you can join us in the streets as soon as possible. cause tbh, anon, we need you. badly😂

i know it’s incredibly frustrating, especially to the young and idealistic, to see all of these horrible things happening, the obvious trajectory of global politics, natural disasters that are so frequent and horrifying that they feel like…no, they are omens of the literal apocalypse. it’s overwhelming, and it makes sense why so many people just keep their heads down and say there’s nothing they can do, all the options are too small to matter. even once you’re able to do the direct action you want to do, you won’t see dramatic change right away. we’re not superheroes, but we’re grains of sand in the machinery of late stage capitalism; drops of water helping to erode the chains around our fellow human beings.

tl;dr: study. be patient. be diligent. be smart. be brave. be kind, recklessly, stubbornly, and proudly.

#anarchist #socialist #antifa #direct action #leftist #sorry this took so long anon!!!#asks #Anonymous

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stopforamoment · 6 years

Text

Before the School Year Starts: Bucket List (4 of 4)

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three)

Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OFC Rinda Parks

Word Count: 1,372

Rating: M for Language

Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this.

This is just a little story arc to tie up some loose ends from the weekend and give some more background info. This takes place Sunday night, after Bastien’s nap. The school year starts on Tuesday, September 11th.

Summary: This is basically a bunch of drabbles that wrap up the final loose ends of that weekend.

Rinda had left a note in the car for Bastien, but he waited until he got back to the palace before reading it.

Bastien,

I know you get embarrassed when I gush about thanking you, but unless you start being an absolute jerk, you have to deal with it. Thank you for the entire weekend. Thank you for giving us the tour of the palace and showing me the library—even though that made your weekend an absolute nightmare. Thank you for introducing us to Drake and for taking the time to play football with Henry and take him for ice cream. Thank you for the spumoni and for taking us downtown and ordering for me when I was overwhelmed with options. Thank you for showing us the secret garden and playing tag in the maze. Thank you for taking care of my foot when I was a klutz and stepped on a rock. Thank you taking us fishing and for checking on me after I got done swimming. Thank you for letting me share food with you when we were eating lunch. Thank you for letting me help you this weekend and thank you for trusting me enough to let me drive so you could get some sleep. Thank you for dealing with my rambles and being there for me with . . . everything.

Rinda

. . . . .

It was late, but Bastien was still going through information with Mara. “Bastien, I reviewed Rinda’s archive searches from this weekend and her previous visits. She’s . . . it’s amazing how thorough she is. And she goes down some rabbit holes with her searches--” Mara had a grin on her face. She knew enough about Rinda to imagine her geeking out and getting sidetracked with a new piece of information to explore. “But she was spot on with what she found. And didn’t find.” Mara was referring to the missing items on the list Rinda gave Bastien. “So, she asked about the Code Locusta? I’m amazed there’s a record of that anywhere.” Bastien nodded. “I didn’t tell her, but she already figured out it’s something with poison. And besides, the official story is that the Queen was poisoned, so it makes sense.” He paused. “Rinda’s going to be busy with teaching and everything with the safety reform. And Henry. But she’s good at this and I know we can trust her. You know she must be used to confidentially being married to Jameson. I mean, a police officer.” Mara raised an eyebrow but said nothing. “I think we consider asking her for help. I know she’s worried about security for the children when the king and queen visit, and she’s the type of person who needs to do something to help.” Mara nodded in agreement.

“Mara, why did you tell Rinda that she should call you if I’m working too much or being a pain in her ass?” Mara looked in shock and then started laughing. “Bastien, I gave her my number in case there was a security emergency and you weren’t available, or to contact me if she found other research. Really? Do you think I would tell her to call me if you were being ‘a pain in the ass’? That’s a 24/7 hotline.”

Bastien blushed. Rinda lied to him so he’d get some sleep, and it didn’t even occur to him to call her bluff. Mara chuckled. “Actually, I think that is a good idea. Dealing with you? That woman is going to need all the help she can get. I’m also working on giving her official clearance to drive the palace vehicles at any time. I can’t believe you were going to drive with only two hours of sleep in 48 hours instead of letting someone else drive her home.” Mara got out her phone and messaged Rinda, much to Bastien’s chagrin.

. . . . .

When Bastien got back to his room he grabbed Rinda’s gift, her copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, off his dresser. She mentioned that she sometimes left notes in books. Did she do that in this book?

He flipped through the pages and smiled when he saw the piece of paper.

Bastien Lykel’s Bucket List

√ 1. Climb a volcano

He got into bed, thinking about his bucket list. There were things that he wanted to do when he had free time . . . when he retired . . . but not an actual list. Suddenly he got up and grabbed the shirt he wore earlier that day. It still smelled like lavender.

Sleeping naked. It was the stupidest thing, but he always needed to fall asleep partially dressed in case there was an emergency. Even when Rinda screamed this weekend he was barefoot and scrambling to put on a shirt, desperate to reach her and contain the situation in time. Sleeping naked was so liberating, but he hadn’t felt comfortable enough to do that in . . . he didn’t know how long.

What else?

It was 2:00 AM. He had to be up in three hours. Fuck it. He took off his lounge pants and boxers. But just in case, he moved a chair close to his bed and draped them across, easy to grab. He laid on top of his bed, fully stretched out. The air was cool against his skin. God this feels good.

Suddenly he grabbed his phone to message Rinda. Shit, be sure it’s just a message. No accidental dick pics!

What’s on your bucket list?

Bastien was surprised to see the dots moving. She was still up?

Well, being there to see Henry grow up, maybe be a grandma when he’s a lot older. But stuff just for me?

Yes. And how is the sleepover going? Why are you still up?

If you thought I’d be sleeping why did you message me? Oh, and speaking of, I got an interesting message from Mara.

Yeah, I was just tired. Otherwise I would have seen through your deception. So how was the sleepover?

Some of the kids are still up. Henry and Phillip, of course. And some of the older ones. But we’ve threatened them enough that they should at least stay in their tents now.

So . . . bucket list?

Hmm. Dance the tango outside in some awesome city outside of the U.S. Like, how there are street dancers in South America and stuff.

What else? You should have at least five things.

What about you?

Climbing a volcano. Your turn.

You did that already. Doesn’t count. For me, see the Northern Lights in Iceland. Go to Scotland and walk across a moor when the heather is in bloom. Sorry, a part of me is still bummed that didn’t work out. Finish seeing all of the states in the United States. Seven more to go. Haven’t done Hawai’i. Could climb a volcano there LOL.

Go to Japan and have an amazing sushi dinner. I guess it’s mostly traveling and experiencing new things. Otherwise the bigger picture of figuring out what the hell I’m doing with the rest of my life.

Your turn.

Hmm. It’s classified.

Liar. I want that list filled out before Drake replaces you. It’s your homework, okay?

Yes, Mrs. Parks.

. . . . .

The boys finally fell asleep and Rinda was able to crawl into bed and get snuggled in. Mmm. It smelled like Bastien. Rinda remembered when she needed to sleep with Jameson’s shirt. She tried putting his body spray on her pillow to remind her of him. But it was never the same. There was something about a person’s scent. Something that was more than the body spray or cologne, or the laundry detergent or soap they used. It was all of that . . . and more. That was one of the reasons she always made sure her sheets had a fragrance. Lavender. Eucalyptus. Clean Linen-scent laundry detergent. It had to be some kind of substitute, so she could snuggle in and try to forget what she so desperately longed for.

Rinda hugged her pillow and breathed in Bastien’s scent.

God, I miss this.

#bastien lykel #choices trr #ofc rinda parks

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liibertus · 6 years

Text

Hey listen no one asked but I still think of these a lot

So I had linked this post introducing Lib, but there’s more and since it took me more than like .3 seconds to find these again I’m making my own reference post for introductory/promotional images for the KG kids. Will also include a lot of headcanons for this blog as well as @lvche, @khxra, @sonitvs, and @axisara.

I’m obviously biased, so first is Lib’s:

“Growing up alongside Nyx, Libertus was always the upbeat and outspoken one. When the situation turns serious, he must confront his fear and prove is valor.”

as I said before, I find it interesting, and perhaps this is an outdated observation, that Libertus was very much portrayed as the “kind of a loser best friend,” which, by this summary, isn’t true at all. To each their own, of course, but this struck me as a contrast between the two boys, making Nyx a bit more reserved and mild as a child. Or perhaps just the beginnings of the cool guy we see in the movie. But strictly from what we see in the film, I had originally imagined Nyx to be rather outgoing and popular, though it seems that, had they a group growing up, it might have been Libertus who was more the leader with Nyx’s cool demeanor at his side. And these are the headcanons I go with on this blog, unless a Nyx I am interacting with has different hcs ofc.

Next, ofc, Nyx’s, all this stuff common knowledge now, though:

“Saved by King Regis as a child, Nyx repays his debt by serving the Kingsglaive with distinction. His unique ability to wield the King’s magic and epic exploits in combat have earned him the moniker of “hero” among his peers.”

This is all pretty well known and accepted at this point, but I would like to point out the small implication as to how rare being able to use the King’s magic is. As we know from Comrades, there are far more Glaives than we see even in the background of the movie, so take from this what you will. Again, sorry there wasn’t too much else I have to say on this. Promise there’s more to come.

Next, Crowe:

“Crowe grew up an orphan on the outskirts of Lucis. Her rare gift of magic earned her a place in the Kingsglaive. Her fellow soldiers are the only family she knows.”

Okay so, again it has been quite a while since I have looked into the generally accepted fanon, but I remember being a bit shocked that Crowe wasn’t Galahdan like Nyx and Libertus. I think there is a snippet somewhere of Nyx and Libertus stumbling across a young Crowe somewhere, so someone do link me or let me know if I am crazy. The other thing that surprised me is there’s a lot of hostility toward Glaives as being outsiders. But I would think that, despite being on the outskirts, Crowe might be shown just a bit less aggression as she is Lucian, if not Insomnian. Though I doubt most people cared and just lumped her in, it is something to think about I think. What’s more is I do want to also specifically note the strong familial ties she feels toward the Glaive. There’s some mention of this in the movie too, and I am very much supportive of the idea that the group was somewhat like a rather large, extended family.

Now, Luche:

You may be suprised I did him before Pelna, but there is a personal headcanon I want to tie into their snippets here, so bear with me. Luche was also posted before Pelna’s but that’s kind of an aside. The previous three also just have named actors and actresses for image descriptions, but here we finally get an additional line.

“Respect is earned. ... A leader among the Glaives, Luche’s intellect has earned the trust and respect of his comrades.”

Couldn’t be shorter or sweeter, I think. As I will repeat many, many times I am sure, my memories of the mass accepted headcanons may have changed, but I do remember this being relatively accepted. However, I would like to point out there is no ill feelings in this item specifically. He has earned the Glaive’s respect and it seems very well implied that they choose his leadership because they trust his judgement. I think this is very important as, in the movie, I moreso got the impression that Luche was a boot-licking fool appointed as an underling to Drautos. And while there might have been some other things going on, I personally stand by his position among his peers being gained through their choosing, not Drautos’s.

And now, Pelna:

“Meet the Glaive who seizes any opportunity to fight. ... What young Pelna lacks in experience, he makes up for with his incisive mind and quick wit.”

Also very short and sweet. Now, I do like the emphasis on his young age relative to the other Glaives. I find that rather fascinating in of itself, but I’l jump right into the connection I personally headcanon. While I am sure there were many other bright and promising minds in the Glaive, Luche’s presence with Pelna’s group has lead me to believe two things about Luche’s character. I believe there was a sort of mentor relationship between Luche and Pelna, though I stress of “a sort.” I do think they treated each other more as equals a lot of the time, but the whole bit about lacking experience is something that I thought a lot about. Assuming my second headcanon as well-- which is that Luche was much more of a personal leader, liking to spend time with the different groups he lead-- I think he would have gained a lot of respect from Pelna, who we know from his insistence on repaying his debts to Nyx is one for more personal loyalty. Likewise, I think Luche would have seen Pelna’s sharp mind and asked for his input on things wherever he felt practical, both truly for his views and to deepen their relationship. Finally, I would like to go back to the first line and express my original surprise with it. Pelna never seemed to sort to seek out conflict, and truthfully it’s one of the few comments I tend to dismiss. Though, if pressed, I’d personally take it as meaning to say he’s always ready to prove himself in battle both as far as combat and strategy.

Now for the Traitorous Trio, who I will say now, I gleam far less than in previous notes. But, for sake of completionisim, here they are.

For Tredd:

“Cocksure and cutthroat, Tredd never shies away from a fight, and rarely loses.”

Another rather short and mostly known and accepted description. I would like to highlight the word choice of cutthroat. Perhaps the choice could be interpreted for it’s more audibly pleasing sense than actual connotation. I’ve always found Tredd to be hot headed perhaps, but not murderous to such a degree. I, however, like the not-so-subtle implications of just how competent he is in battle with that last.

For Sonitus:

“Meet the Glaive whose virtues seem boundless. ... A renowned man-at-arms, Sonitus’ virtuosity is exceeded only by his virtue.”

Just the slightest bit wordier than Tredd’s, but I think it’s a bit more to the point. Sonitus is exceptional in combat and has high regard for morality. I do like the stress on this latter point, though, as I firmly believe that those Glaives who betrayed the Crown weren’t evil, but only doing what they felt they had to. While Tredd seemed to express little tie to his homeland, I am a bit unsure whether or not his two companions shared these feelings. Either way, I think it was just as much of a shocking betrayal of trust to them as it was to the main four we follow. I’ll admit I am definitely not the best at wrapping around to conclusions, but generally I very much like the idea that they had their reasons, primarily that their actions followed own moral code.

Finally, Axis:

and I will say now it is rather insightful in my opinion.

“The soft-spoken Axis has always preferred letting his blades do the talking.”

I don’t think this is anything new, of course. I do like to think, though, that he takes this way of expressing himself liberally, generally letting actions speak louder than words as opposed to usually resorting to violence, but make of it what you will.

There are others I might as well add for other’s benefit, but as I personally I’m not reading into these as much. So, here you are.

Lunfreya Nox Fleuret:

“Before accepting sacred charge of the Oracle, Lunafreya was born princess of Tenebrae. As a girl she forged a bond with Prince Noctis, now her betrothed. Though she was to meet her fiance in Altissia, circumstances carry her into the crown city ahead of the peace signing.”

Regis Lucis Caelum:

“Merciful and wise, King Regis is revered by his people for all he has done for Lucis. After his son, Prince Noctis, sets forth from the crown city, the King turns his attention to forging a peace between his Kingdom and the Empire of Niflheim. “

Titus Drautos:

“As Captain of the Kingsglaive, Drautos holds his soldiers to the same unforgiving high standards to which he holds himself and trained Nyx in the art of combat. His respect can only be earned with blood, sweat and tears.”

Ardyn Izunia:

“For vastly enhancing the might of the Imperial Army, the grandiloquent Ardyn Izunia has enjoyed a meteoric rise to the rank of Chancellor. He now enters the crown city to deliver Lucis the empire’s terms of peace.”

Claurus Amicitia:

“True power isn’t bound by those who seek it. ... Sword shield and childhood friend to King Regis, Clarus is valued as much for his voice as he is his mettle. His son, Gladio, travels alongside the King’s in FINAL FANTASY XV.”

Ideolas Aldercapt:

“Just wanting doesn’t win wars. ... Wold domination’s close at hand for Niflheim’s cunning and cutthroat emperor, Ideolas Aldercapt, with only the Kingdom of Lucis out of his grasp.”

Ravus Nox Flueret:

“His homeland razed, he finds vengence the only way he knows how. ... Like his sister, Lunafreya, Ravus Nox Flueret also enters the crown city before the signing, but does so of his own free will under the auspices of the Imperial Army.”

I’ll most likely have more to say and note later, but I also intend on doing further notes on this post here.

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iwantthedean · 7 years

Text

The Charade; Part One

Summary: Two journalists strike a bargain with Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles to get the article they need, and end up getting more than they bargained for. Pairings: Misha x OFC, Jensen x OFC Word Count: 1479 Warnings: Language. A/N: Ash’s and my new collab! @d-s-winchester

Masterlist

Boden Emerson rushed onto the elevator just behind her co-worker and friend, Adeline Brooks. She switched her bag to the other shoulder, and let out a deep breath.

“Cutting it a little close, Bo,” Adeline teased.

“Shut it,” Boden smiled. “I woke up late.”

Adeline shrugged as the elevator reached the floor for Exclusive. “Just as well. I didn't feel like getting extra dressed up for this meeting with Kelly.”

“It didn't even cross my mind,” Bo snorted.

The two women made way for their neighboring cubicles, unloading their bags and whatnot. They took the time to catch up on emails before it was time to head to their editor’s office.

Kelly Clarke, editor of Exclusive, looked like she would be the editor of a big time magazine. Think Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada but just slightly less intimidating. So it was no surprise to Bo and Addy that she didn’t smile at them in greeting when they walked into her office.

“Have a seat,” she said, peering over her computer monitor at the two women in front of her. “Girls, I'm concerned. Your articles are still getting great reviews, but they're not the reason people read Exclusive anymore. A plateau in work is not something I like to see among my writers.”

Addy and Bo exchanged a glance, not sure what was coming next. They knew, however, that it was best not speak until they were prompted, and Kelly had said all she needed to say.

“Supernatural is coming up on it’s tenth season -- that's where the entertainment buzz is at. I want you to get in there, be on set, get me something good. Something I can put on the front cover of the magazine.”

Bo ventured to ask a question. “You want to know what a day on set is like?”

“I want the nitty-gritty,” Kelly corrected. “I want to know what's happening in their personal lives, the sacrifices they make for these shows and the conventions they attend. I want to know the things they don't tell anyone else -- that is Exclusive, after all.”

“With all due respect, Kelly, they film on a closed set. We have tried multiple times before to get on for interviews and stuff, and it's always a hard no.”

“I suppose that is your challenge, not mine,” Kelly responded matter-of-factly. “Don't let me down, girls.”

The two younger women took that as their cue to leave. Just outside of Kelly’s office, they exchanged a worried glance; this was going to be no easy feat.

“You want to try e-mailing the PR people for the thousandth time or should I?” Adeline asked as she sat down at her desk.

Boden sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, leaning against the entrance to Adeline’s cubicle. “I’ll give it a shot. They’re just going to say no. I honestly don’t know what Kelly expects us to do. We’ve been trying to get on that set for years.”

“Maybe if we try a different approach?” Addy suggested, “We could always contact the actors’ managers directly and try to set up an interview. That worked for us with The Walking Dead.”

“Yeah, but Reedus and Lincoln’s PR people weren’t such pains in the ass,” Bo pointed out, “but I guess it’s worth a shot. You try Padalecki’s manager and I’ll reach out to Ackles’s.”

Adeline nodded and Boden went back to her cubicle. Adeline was able to find out the contact information for Jared Padalecki’s manager easily and within minutes had the e-mail drafted and sent. Just for good measure she sent a similar e-mail to Misha Collins’s manager as well, hoping that three separate e-mails to each of the stars’ teams would work out in their favor. All that was left to do was wait for a response.

In an attempt to distract themselves from impatiently checking their e-mails for responses Adeline and Boden went about their daily routines and finished up the current articles they were working on. Finishing them well before their deadline, something they were both good at, gave them the afternoon free to figure out alternate solutions to their Supernatural problem if the management teams gave them negative responses like they were anticipating.

“Padalecki’s people got back to me,” Addy said, checking her phone as the pair walked down the street to grab some lunch, “hard no from them. Still waiting to hear from Collins. Anything on Ackles?”

“Nothing yet, but I think we already know the answers we’re going to get,” Bo replied, “I’m starting to feel like sending out these e-mails was pointless.”

“Yeah,” Addy sighed, “me too.”

By the time they had finished their lunch and got back to their respective cubicles both Jensen Ackles and Misha Collins’ management teams had given them answers. Just like the e-mail from Jared’s team the managers had declined their requests. It was starting to feel like the women would need some sort of miracle to get onto that set and get Kelly what she wanted. They may have been two of her best journalists but that didn’t mean she would have any qualms about firing them if they didn’t at least get her something.

“We should just move to Vancouver,” Bo sighed. “At least then we would have the benefit of being closer to the studio lot.”

Adeline’s brow lifted. “I mean, it's not the worst idea you've ever had.”

“I wasn't being serious, Addy. We have work here to do, too. We can't just up and move to another country.”

“Says who? We can do all of our other work from any location. We can come back here if necessary, to check in. We have to do something.”

Boden thought it over and realized there were no strings holding them down. “Should we talk to Kelly first?”

“I think our best bet is to just tell her we’re going,” Adeline replied, “because then she knows we have a plan.”

“Good call!”

When five o’clock rolled around the next day the girls had told Kelly they were going and everything else was in the works. They had managed to secure a two bedroom apartment and the only thing left for them to do was pack up their belongings and make the trip.

Misha Collins had just finished packing the last of his ex-girlfriend’s things into boxes and was preparing to move them out to the hallway for her to pick them up later that night when his cellphone rang. Hoping it wasn’t Charlotte, he sighed and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge before grabbing his phone from the counter to answer it. Once glance at the screen told him it was his friend and co-star, Jensen Ackles, calling and he answered.

“Hey, Jay, what’s up?”

“Lindsey just left.”

Misha stopped in his tracks. “Like went out for a bite to eat or she’s gone?”

“As in Charlotte called her earlier today, told her how great it was to be -- and I quote -- ‘liberated’ from the entire Supernatural fandom and family, and Lindsey took that and ran with it. I know she’s been having trouble for a while, coping and all that, but I never thought she’d actually leave.”

“Hey, I'm sorry, man. Can't help but feel like maybe I'm to blame for this.”

“Not at all,” Jensen assured. “Their loss right?”

“Yeah, right.” Neither man sounded entirely convinced. “Why don't you come by for some beers? I'm moving all of Charlotte’s shit to the hall then I'm down to forget everything.”

“Sounds good to me. Lindsey took all her crap already, so I'll head out in a few.”

Jensen told Misha he’d see him soon and disconnected the call. While he waited for his friend to arrive Misha went through the apartment, room by room, to make sure he hadn't missed any of Charlotte’s things. By the time he'd collected the few things he'd missed and put them in another box, Jensen was knocking on his door.

They settled in with a couple of beers and talked for a while about where they'd gone wrong. Charlotte had found another man to hold her attention, and Lindsey just couldn't take being in the spotlight all the time -- it was too much chaos for her. Both men felt that it all boiled down to something wrong with them; they just weren't enough.

Jensen groaned after a few beers as a new realization hit him. “My lease is up in a couple weeks. Guess I know now why Lindsey didn't want to renew or look for a new place.”

“Just move in here,” Misha suggested. “I've got two rooms anyway, and I'm gonna guess our single asses will be hanging out together a lot more anyway for a while. Might as well save some money and split the rent.”

“Can't complain about saving money,” Jensen shrugged. “Count me in.”

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dragonji · 3 years

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check in tag time ! thanks @transyebaiyi for the tag im sending u So many keeses<333

under the cut bc im very wordy hehe

why did you choose your url?

as my pinned states, my two passions in life are dragons and pretty boys of which lwj is the prettiest of them all so ofc i just had to combine them<3 i also Really Love dragon lwj content in general (as for my usual url crow-n-prince it's my semi professional one! i use it for art related things and it's meant to be a play on crown prince-> crow (one of my other fave things) and prince)

any side blogs? if you have them: name them and why you have them

none that i really use anymore! i used to be pretty active on wonhostransbf for kpop stuff and i have around 30 saved urls for various themes but i gave up and just keep everything on main.. full medley soup here on dragonji dot tumblr dot com baybee ( bonus some highlights of my saved urls are wangjimp3, yanfus, poetswordsman, disconcernings, and t4tlwj)

how long you've been on tumblr?

i?? think since early high school so.. around 6 years?

do you have a queue tag?

i actually just started one like last week! it's "i would wait for q" which i felt was suitably gay longing of me (not that i really need a queue tag rn since im online constantly anyways-)

why did you start your blog in the first place?

uhh i think mainly to post art? and keep up with my interests at the time so not much different from what i use it for currently

why did you choose your icon?

all my recent icons have been lwj for ahem kinnie reasons also i figured i should use my own art sometime and since i managed to finish some lwj art for pride it just worked out :3

why did you choose your header?

it started as a joke bc i was like oh funny haha the kfc tgcf promo pic but i actually really love the colors and got too attached... it just feels warm and also means i get to look at hualian whenever i want so it stayed<3

what's your post with the most notes?

probably this nhs art for his bday a couple years ago and honestly deserved I spent So long on that thing

how many mutuals do you have?

around.. 20?? maybe 30? but only a handful that i consider true Mutuals u know

how many followers do you have?

494 but most are inactive or from like years ago

how many people do you follow?

1300... i need to go thru bc i've never actually cleaned out my following list but thats a lot of work so i'll keep putting it off

have you ever made a shitpost?

i dont think so? i just kind of post for me if ppl reblog it thats on them

how often do you use tumblr a day?

i am quite literally always on these days unfortunately<3 during school i check whenever i get breaks and during the evenings + a good few hours before i go to sleep i'm usually hanging out while watching shows/reading other stuff

did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

besides the anon from the other day no not really. I much prefer to avoid confrontation in general and usually just block pretty liberally to cut off that kind of thing before it gets bad. it helps that im not a very popular blog so complete strangers dont feel entitled to start shit randomly lol

how do you feel about "you need to reblog this" posts?

kind of.. greasy in general :/ if it's an important issue i would rather find informative or relevant posts without that kind of phrasing but i'll rb if im short on time or energy

do you like tag games?

i think theyre fun and sweet!! however i normally do not have much energy for them so i don't participate often sigh... i tend to overthink all my responses so by the time I finish one its like paragraphs long (case in point this one) and weeks after I first got tagged so I just dont post haha

do you like ask games?

yeah!!! theyre quick and interesting and let me do one of my fave things which is sharing little tidbits of my life online<3

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

oh i know a couple of my mutuals are legitimately famous on here but im not super close to them, and i know a few have had some really popular text posts but i'm not gonna name anyone haha

do you have a crush on a mutual?

not at the moment! i have before but i'm not the type to act first on any feelings i have so usually i just crush for a few weeks and move on

i think most of my mutuals have been tagged already but if u see this and wanna say i tagged u go for it✨

#j.txt #tag games #long post #thank u again claudio this was rly fun!!!

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