#the Colombian in me demands it

[msmacabre310]

I know there's a general agreement that Julieta doesn't fix anyone's vision because there's nothing wrong with needing glasses

but I also can't help but imagine the one guy in the Encanto who is an optometrist and probably had to go to an eight-year-old Julieta and say "Magical little girl who is putting me out of business, please, I beg of you -"

#encanto #encanto headcanons #Julieta Madrigal #these are things that keep me awake at night #SOMEBODY there is running a mid-century Colombian LensCrafters or none of them would HAVE glasses and I demand to know who they are #like they did NOT go to school for four years just to be demoted by a really good arepa Julieta please I beg you to stop

[spacecowboyhotch]

Personal Issue

summary: santi invites you to his hotel room the day after your engagement to talk. he says the unexpected— that he’s in love with you.

prompt: "Why did you never tell me?" "It was a personal issue." "You being in love with me kind of also involves me." - @creativepromptsforwriting

pairing: santi garcia x f!reader

contents: get together fic, best friends to lovers, simp!santi (he’s lowkey a lil pathetic but i love him), angst, mental health issues/thoughts of dying, cheating, kissing

wc: 1,966

an: a teeny tiny something bc i miss santi. thanks to @ivystoryweaver for the beta <3

oscar characters masterlist

"Why did you never tell me?" You demand, unable to keep the horror out of your voice.

Santi ignores the way your tone scrapes at the wound in his heart— the wound that’s always been open because of you. Always fresh, unable to heal because of you. You always seemed to be just out of reach, slipping through his fingers for one reason or another.

"It was a personal issue,” He reasons, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He can hardly look at you. It’s humbling. He’s never had an issue with charming a woman, but you aren’t just any woman. You’re his best friend. There are too many eggs in this basket.

You scoff, crossing your arms against your chest, "You being in love with me kind of also involves me."

“I didn’t— things were different before.”

“Different,” You test the word, not at all buying it. It feels like bullshit. Like a cop-out.

“Yes, different. We were kids, and then I was gone all the time.”

“No, Santi, you can’t do this to me.”

Santi smiles, though there is no humor in it. You’re right— he shouldn’t be doing this. Not today, not any day, but he’s finally reached his limit. It’s now or never.

“I don’t really have a choice, now did I, cariño?”

You glare at him, about ready to rip his head off because that‘s not true. You and Santiago have known each other for most of your lives— and you’ve loved him for at least half that. He could’ve told you days, weeks, months, years ago that he felt the same. But in true Santiago Garcia fashion, thinking only of himself and the consequences that sit right in front of him, he’d told you today.

Today wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t the day after you’d gotten engaged. No, Santi chose the day after you’d finally given yourself to someone else completely, the day after you promised yourself you’d settle and try to stop loving him. What you’ve wanted for years and years on end has finally come and now it feels like some sort of cruel joke.

“That’s one of the most heinous lies you’ve ever told.”

“The Colombian government would disagree.”

“You know what— get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see you ever again. I can’t believe that you think you can just waltz right in here and—“

Santi takes two long strides towards you, closing the gap between you so that he can cup your face. “Tell me no. Say it. You have to say it to me.”

“Santiago, please,” You plead softly with him, your eyes round with fear. Your hands reach up to grasp his, making futile attempts to pull them away. “Don’t make me choose.”

Santi leans closer, the tip of his nose ghosting yours. His eyes are darker than usual, burning into you, a little angry— though he has no right to be— and a little desperate. “Why? Why not, hmm? He’s not that important, is he? Because you know you’ll choose me, don’t you?”

“Stop. Stop. Do you know how unfair this is? How fucked up it is for you to tell me this?”

Santi’s grip on your face tightens— it’s not painful but it’s frantic. You can feel the urgency in his fingertips. “Yes. Yes, I know. And I’ve always wanted to be better for you. I want to be a good man, I want to be worthy. Not some fucked up guy who’s better at killing than he is at telling the woman he loves how much she means to him. But, I’m not.”

“You could try.”

“I have. Don’t you get it, baby, I have. Yesterday when I saw those pictures. When I saw this—“ He tangles his fingers with your own, twisting your hand so you have to stare the ring sat on your finger in the face.

It glistens and gleams like it taunting you. It’s exactly what you wanted— the right cut, the right material—sparkling even in the dark. Your stomach churns at the sight of it. You shouldn’t have said yes, that much you know for sure. When you went back to your apartment last night you sat in the shower, your tears disguised under its spray. And when you had emerged, you’d made yourself a promise. To be a good and loyal spouse to the man that had actually chosen you.

“It drove me fucking insane. I lost it because I’m losing you. I had to try. If you say no, I’ll never come back. I’ll take assignment after assignment but if there’s even a small chance, baby, that you could still love me— because I know you did…I know you do.”

“I don’t want you gone forever, Santi. I said that because I’m angry.”

“You have every right to be.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“Then what do you need, huh? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you. Whatever you want.”

There’s more than one answer to that, but you have to give him the right answer. You’d just promised yourself last night that you would move on. Who knew that he would make it so difficult.

With a soft, shaky breath you say, “I…I need you to let me go.”

Santi goes dangerously still, his breath catching. “What?”

“I need you to let me go,” You repeat gently, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face him. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

The words sound syrupy in his ears, far away and unreal. He looks at you with confusion. “You want me to let you go?”

“Yes.”

The sharp anger and desperation in Santi’s eyes fade away, leaving his features soft and round and sad. So markedly sad. He lets his eyes trace your face for memorization; lips and eyes, the slope of your nose. He leans in to kiss your forehead, letting out a soft sigh.

Santi has done wrong by so many others and even done wrong by you. But this he’ll do right. If you want him to let you go then he will. He’ll let you walk out of here and never look back. Maybe he’ll get so involved in his work that he won’t think of you or this moment ever again. Maybe something will take him away completely. He flinches at his thought— it’s been a long time since something that has floated around in his mind like that. Taking a step away from you, he lets you go, fingers aching with the ghost of your skin against his.

You rest your face in your hands for a few moments, trying to pull yourself together. And when you straighten, you’re sure not to look Santi in his, just in his general direction. You’re broken enough and meeting his gaze would surely cause you to fall apart.

“Thank you, Santi,” You whisper, not trusting yourself to speak any louder.

He gives you a stiff nod, “Anything for you.”

Why do those words feel like you’re being stabbed in the heart? If he meant them, then why did he wait so long? Why did he do this to the both of you? Your vision blurs a bit with tears and you quickly grab your coat from where it’s laid on his bed, taking deliberate steps towards the door. Your hand lingers on the doorknob— are you sure that you want to do this? To walk away from the man you’ve always wanted?

“Wait,” He calls after you.

You freeze, but don’t turn towards him— that would be asking for trouble. Trouble you are trying so fucking hard to avoid. “What is it?”

“I just— I have to say it to you one more time because I don’t know if I’ll be able to again.”

“I told you I didn’t want you gone for good, Santi. We don’t have to do this, you can just let me walk away and we can act like it never happened,” You say, though you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself more.

“I don’t think I can promise to stick around. I can’t watch you marry someone else. I’m not gracious enough, querida.”

“Okay,” You whisper, the tears in your eyes starting to fall.

“I…I love you. I always will.”

Silence falls between you two, an empty cove. Santi hopes that it’ll be enough, that somehow, miraculously you’ll turn around and run into his arms, telling him that you love him too. Instead, he hears a soft sob and watches as your hand rises to wipe at your face before you straighten up and step out into the hall.

When the door shuts behind you he feels like he’s drowning. Like he can’t breathe. His heart is thrumming loudly in his ears, and he crumbles, letting out a groan as his knees hit the ground.

What the fuck has he done? Lost you forever, and told you that he can’t stick around. That was the last time he would ever see you. A world without you is one he’s sure he doesn’t want to be in.

He’s completely paralyzed with fear. He’s not sure how long he sits on the ground like this, shocked and still, but eventually his body starts to ache so badly he’s unable to ignore it. He crawls to the bed, reaching up to rest his weight on it and lift himself onto it. Here he can rot until he can no longer. Until Frankie or Will or Benny come to bang down the door and figure out what the hell is wrong with him.

It’s not long after that that someone does start knocking on his door. Has it been days? One of them was here already. Santi feels like it’s been minutes and weeks all at the same time, time stretching and squeezing in a way that feels unreal. It takes real effort to rise out of bed and make his way to the door. He doesn’t bother to check who it is, opening it with no reservations.

Maybe he died of starvation or dehydration. He must have been lying there much longer than he thought because it’s you. You’re standing at the door, tear-stained and so goddamn beautiful. This has to be heaven— except he’s undeserving.

“I love you too,” You blurt out.

“What?”

“I love you too,” You repeat. When Santi says nothing, staring at you in a daze you start to ramble. “I tried to go home and I couldn’t sleep. And then I drove around a bunch but I couldn’t stop crying because how am I supposed to live my life without you? Then all of a sudden I was here again. I love you, Santiago.”

“You love me.”

“Yes, I love you. Are you okay?”

Santi feels like his body has recalibrated. “Am I— get over here,” He murmurs, reaching to pull you into his room and crushing your mouth to his.

He presses you against the wall, covering your body with his own as he completely devours your mouth, forcing his way in and sucking at your tongue. All you can do is melt into him, hands scrambling to find purchase in the fabric of his shirt so that you can clutch him closer. His mouth is firm and so sweet. You want to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him for the rest of your life. Something in your brain reminds you that maybe, just maybe, if he loves you as much as he claims he does you will. It has you giggling into his mouth.

He grins into the kiss. “My kissing is funny, is it?”

“Funny isn’t the word I’d use for it but just to be sure— kiss me again?”

“Anything for you,” He murmurs, his mouth capturing yours once more.

santi taglist: @jitterbugs927, @theconsultingdoctor10, @tanzthompson, @clairevoyanceee, @moonmalice, @tiffanypooh, @dearvirtualdiary-blog1, @marc-spectorr, @xbellaxcarolinax, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @missdictatorme, @whatthefishh

#santi garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santi garcia x fem!reader #santiago garcia x fem!reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #arson writes

[cherry-holmes]

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña (series)

Chapter 6

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Talking about the past isn’t easy for everybody. But when you trust someone, it can be therapeutic and healing to the heart.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: +3.3k

Warnings: Angst & comfort❤️‍🩹 Mentions of parent loss and parent abandonment. Mentions of domestic violence. Brief making out scene. Mentions of virginity/first time sex.

A/N: Chapter 6 here we go. Honestly I never thought I’ll go this further🙃 glad I did tho. As always thank u so much for your support and your comments and likes and reblogs, means the world to me!

I’m taking requests, as always!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Javier Peña was usually always angry and stressed due to the nature of his demanding and complicated work. You were used to see him walking around the office with a frown on his handsome face, leaving the base hurry, his gun tucked on his back, ready for whatever danger the next raid had to offer. He was professional and he was seriously committed with his work and his duties, he was focused on the reason that brought him to Colombia and he was certainly determined to catch Escobar.

However, every time he entered the room where you were, his whole world just lighted up. And now that you had became officially his girlfriend, he was just in a good mood most of the time.

Three days ago, you had accepted him to be your beloved one, and a sense of contentment filled Javier's from that day, a sharp contrast to his typically high-stress life as a DEA agent in Colombia. He still carried the weight of his mission, but your presence made it more manageable. The love and companionship you offered were precious to him, and he cherished every moment you spent together.

Javier wasn't going to lie to himself; he was used to satisfying his sexual needs quite frequently. Given how much he loved and desired you, taking things slow with you might indeed be the most challenging thing he had ever done. However, he wasn't a hormonal teenager, he was a grown ass man, he could keep his dick in his man pants and he could take care of himself.

He hadn't mentioned the idea of going to his or your apartment again, as he was waiting for you to take that step. He didn't dare to ask you such a personal question, but he had also spent the last two nights wondering if you wanted to wait because you might still be a virgin. It was something he had never thought about before, as he genuinely didn't care whether you were or not. He was well aware that both men and women had the right to enjoy their sexuality freely and willingly, and that included you. When he asked you if Diego knew where you lived, and you confirmed it, his mind naturally jumped to the assumption that something might had happened.

Now he needed to know if you were a virgin, just to be aware of your needs and what you expected from him. He was willing to wait for you, he can be patient when it's worth the wait. You were worthy.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

At the end of the workday, while you were organizing the documents you had translated into their corresponding file cabinets and preparing to pack your belongings, Javier appeared in your office. He had a cigarette between his lips and was still dressed in his suit.

"Hey," he announced himself, causing you to turn around with a wide smile. You rushed into his open arms, wrapping yours around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips. "Does that mean you missed me?" he asked playfully.

"I don't know, what does this tell you?" You responded in a lower voice, leaning in again to place another sweet and gentle kiss on him. His hands encircled your waist, squeezing your soft flesh, and he deepened the kiss.

Javier and Steve had been invited to spend the entire day at the Colombian Embassy, attending countless meetings with the new American Ambassador for Colombia. You hadn't seen him all day until now. He hadn't even had time to pick you up from your apartment in the morning, so you had missed him dearly.

"Maybe I should make you miss me more often," he suggested as you broke the contact, his hands pulling you closer.

"Don't you dare," you playfully responded, smoothing his suit and adjusting his tie. "You look handsome, though" you added casually, but when you looked up at him again, you noticed a change in his eyes. They had darkened, and a devilish grin now adorned his face. His playful demeanor took a more seductive turn.

You couldn't deny the chemistry between you two. Every moment with Javier was electric, and your attraction to him was undeniable. His scent, a mix of cologne, cigarettes, and the faintest hint of danger, drew you in. Your heart raced as his lips found yours again in a passionate kiss, and the room seemed to close in around you as he pressed you against the desk, his hands firmly gripping your hips.

Reluctantly, you pushed Javier back slightly, your hands still resting on his strong chest.

"Javi, I..." you began, but he silenced you with another soft kiss.

"I know, bonita," he murmured, his voice still tinged with desire. "It's okay." He took a step back, but his eyes remained fixed on you as his hands moved to hold yours. "I was wondering if you'd like to grab your favorite arepas for takeout and then spend the night at my place."

You hesitated, your mind filled with memories of past experiences that had left you wary of such propositions. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea," you started, your concerns etched on your face.

Javier gave you the most irresistible puppy-dog eyes as he gently lifted your chin with a finger. "Bonita, it's just dinner and share my bed," he reassured. "I promise I won't do anything you don't want, unless you ask me to. Please, you don't even know my apartment yet."

His sincerity and the allure of spending more time with him won you over. A smile crept across your face as you gave a small nod. "Alright, Javi. But if you get any funny ideas, you'll have to answer to me."

Javier grinned, his eyes lighting up. "I promise, bonita. No funny business, unless you're up for it," he swore and winked at you.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The night sky was pouring rain as you followed Javier to his apartment. Luckily you had an umbrella, which you used to protect the both of you, holding onto his arm as you entered the building. However, your shoes were soaking, causing you to slipped as you tried to cross the hallway to his apartment.

After he found the key and opened the door, he stepped aside, gallantly allowing you to enter first. When he turned on the lights, you were welcomed by a bachelor apartment. The place smelled just like him: a mix of male cologne, cigarettes, whiskey, and a subtle woody undertone.

Javier's apartment had a rugged yet inviting feel to it. The living area was adorned with masculine touches and minimalist decoration. The kitchen appeared almost untouched, leather couches provided ample seating, and a center table with an ashtray took center stage. By the window, there was a small bar table, which gave you a hint that this was indeed a bachelor pad. There where photos nowhere to be seen.

Javier and you took off your shoes and then he gestured toward the living area with a smile. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll go grab our arepas. Anything to drink?" He seemed genuinely excited to have you in his space, his earlier promise of not pushing things evident in his demeanor.

"Will you have coffee by any chance?" you asked, and he nodded.

"Sure, darling," he said as he placed the plastic bag on the table and began setting up an improvised coffee maker on the stove burner. You offered to help, but he insisted you make yourself comfortable on his couch.

A couple of minutes later, he returned to you with a plate of arepas and two mugs of hot coffee. Your shared love for coffee was one of those quirky things that made your connection special. Neither of you was deterred by caffeine late in the evening; it seemed to have no impact on your or Javi's sleep.

"So," you began, sipping your coffee, "how was your day?"

Javi shook his head as he took a bite of an arepa. "Terrible," he muttered when he swallowed the food, "there were so many people. You know, the suit-and-tie assholes who act like catching Escobar is as simple as catching a fuckin' cat."

Javi's expression grew more animated as he spoke. "I swear, they sit in those conference rooms, drinking their fancy coffees, and spouting off about how they'd handle it differently, like it's a damn board game. It's frustrating, dealing with people who have no idea what it's like on the ground."

You nodded, understanding the frustration. "It's easy to have opinions when you're not the one out there, facing the danger."

He smiled, appreciating your understanding.

As you gazed at Javier, your admiration for him deepened. His dedication to his work, the pursuit of justice, and the fight against the drug cartels was nothing short of heroic in your eyes.

You marveled at his unwavering commitment to making the world a better place, even in the face of danger and uncertainty. He was a symbol of bravery and hard work, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride to have him in your life.

His strength, both physically and emotionally, resonated with you. You couldn't imagine the weight of the responsibilities he carried as a DEA agent.

"Your parents must be so proud of you," you said, as you felt a pang of jealousy. You wished you had that kind of affection.

However, you noticed how his eyes suddenly saddened as he bit slowly into his food and looked at you as if he were deciding whether or not to tell you something related to your mention of his family. You and Javier had talked about a lot of things through the time you had known each other, but family hadn't been part of the conversation yet. Both of you had a dark side to that soft spot.

"I hope so," he said finally, "I had to leave my father alone at his ranch back in Laredo, my mother passed away when I was fifteen," he explained. "I can only hope that everything is worth it."

You felt regretful for mentioning his family as soon as you heard him. You could see the pain in his features, memories returning to his mind.

"Oh, Javi, I'm so sorry," you said, suddenly losing your appetite. "I had no idea..."

"Don't worry, bonita," he assured you, softening his eyes, taking your hand to plant a kiss on it. You wouldn't push him to tell you something he wasn't ready to share with you.

However, Javier leaned back on the leather couch, his eyes distant for a moment.

"My father inherited the family business his grandfather started," he began, lighting a cigarette, "he runs a cattle ranch. He was a strict but loving father." He let smoke escape from his mouth, the movement accentuating his sharp jaw. "My mother, she was the real heart of the family, always caring for everyone. There was just the three of us on a big and prosperous ranch. They gave me a beautiful childhood. I learned from them the value of hard work."

A lightning bolt struck in the distance as he continued to open his heart, and the room filled with the smoke from his cigarette. "That was until she was diagnosed with cancer, and she didn't make it within the next six months. Her loss was so sudden, unexpected. It was a tough time, and after she was gone, things changed. I had to grow up fast and take on more responsibilities."

You listened intently, your heart going out to him as he shared a part of his life that he had kept hidden.

"I've always had a good relationship with my father," he admitted, a hint of guilt in his voice. "I felt torn leaving the ranch, but my father encouraged me to pursue my career, just as my mother would have wanted. We talk on the phone regularly; he's the one who keeps me grounded."

You nodded, understanding that the ranch was more than just a place for Javier; it was a part of his identity and a connection to his family. The ache of missing his mother and the responsibilities he had shouldered at a young age had shaped him into the man you knew today, strong and compassionate.

There was a moment of silence, announcing the end of his anecdote. Having shared a significant part of his own family story, he wanted to know more about you. "What about your family, bonita?" he inquired, looking into your eyes with genuine interest. "If you're comfortable, I'd like to hear about them."

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to open up about your own family experiences. Eventually, you decided it was the right moment to share a piece of your own past.

"Well, I have two lovely older sisters, Sara and Silvia" you began, your voice slightly trembled, "but my relationship with my parents was complicated. We were the ideal picture of a perfect, happy family only when we were in front of others.'' Your voice quivered as you continued, and Javier sat closer, his presence a source of comfort, but he maintained a respectful silence as you shared your past.

"The truth was that my father was a violent, drunk man, and my mother was a strict and very religious woman," you explained, your eyes reflecting the pain of those memories. "She always hoped that our faith would save us from our struggles, but it wasn't that simple."

"As for my father, he left us when I was ten," you continued, your fingers toying with a strand of your hair. "But my relationship with my mother remained strained. She blamed me and my sisters for our father's abandonment. The pressure of her faith and our family's problems made things more difficult."

Javier's gaze remained fixed on you, his brown eyes filled with empathy. "Mi abuelo, my mother's father, was also very religious," you continued, a touch of warmth in your voice as you remembered your grandfather. "But he was so kind and cared so much for his only granddaughters after a family full of boys. He took care of us, and despite my mother's refusal to allow us to study, he paid for the three of us to go to university."

His hand reached out to gently touch yours, offering silent support.

"He and my sisters encouraged me to leave home and follow my dreams, although my mother still doesn't speak to me. She thinks I'm a whore and a stray for having left home 'without getting married,'" you explained. You got lost in the memories of your parents' fights and how you used to hide in the closet with Sara as Silvia played loud music in your shared room to shield her younger sisters from the screams and blows. ''I heard my father remarried and has two sons, but I can't be sure, he never came back to look for us.''

Javier listened to your story with understanding. He could see the pain in your eyes, and it made him want to protect you from the world. You had both shared your deepest scars, and the connection between you had deepened.

After a brief moment of silence, he gently whispered, "Thank you for sharing that with me, bonita."

"You too, Javi. I'm glad that you trust me," you said, leaning in to place a kiss on his soft lips. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while, the rain outside providing a soothing backdrop to your intimate conversation.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You weren't sure how things began to heat up. It began with innocent caresses, leading to deeper kisses, and then you found yourself reclined on the length of his couch, his body almost over you, kissing your neck as his hands squeezed your thigh.

Javier was waiting for you to stop him. He would stop immediately if you just pushed him back or said "no." He was waiting for you to take the next step or to put an end to it. And when you didn't, he simply decided to go further and see what would happen.

One of his hands reached to cup one of your breast over the fabric of your dress. You moan in the middle of a kiss as he massaged your soft flesh gentle but confident. Then, he workshiped your body along your waist and hips, until he reached the hem of your dress, lifting it just enough to travel on the soft skin of your bare inner thighs. You whimpered in his ear, causing a shiver to run down his back.

But as soon as you felt his broad hand cupping your core, you gasped and gentle pushed him back.

"Wait," you pleaded as you tried to sit up straight again, catching your breath. He gave you space, pulling back. "Javi, I can't..." you said, trying to find the right words. You noticed how he tried to cover the bulge in his pants with a knitted blanket as if it was nothing. But you knew it was something. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... you know, I..."

"No, I am sorry," he said, his voice doing its best to sound composed. "I promised you there wouldn't be any funny business. I just let myself carried away."

"It's not that I don't want to be with you," you began to explain, "I do, Javi, but I don't feel I'm ready in this moment... I've never been with anyone before, it's just complicated..."

Javier's expression shifted from intense to soft and understanding. "First of all, you don't have to explain anything to me. Secondly, thank you for trusting me enough to share that with me. I don't want you to feel pressured in any way, mi vida. I respect your choices."

You met his eyes, relieved by his response. "I appreciate that, Javi. I've just had some complicated experiences in the past, and I wanted my first time to be with someone special, someone I really care about." Your hand reached for his cheek, brushing a thumb on his growing facial hair. "I care about you and I want to be with you eventually, I just need a little more time," you assured.

A tender smile spread across Javier's face, and he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I'm honored that you've shared this with me. I promise to be patient and to take things at your pace," he murmured, showing his understanding and support.

"Javi," you said, cheeks burning red, as you noticed he was having a tough time trying to conceal his desires. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

Javier chuckled softly, clearly appreciating the humor in the situation. "Yeah, maybe I should," he replied with a lighthearted grin. "I'll be back in a minute. Don't go anywhere."

You flushed. "Don't worry, I'm not planning an escape."

He disappeared into what looked like his bedroom, and you couldn't help but giggle to yourself. The situation had shifted, but it was comforting to know that Javier respected your boundaries and was willing to take things at a pace that made you comfortable.

A moment later, Javi returned with his hair wet and dressed in sleeping pants and a t-shirt. You realized that you had never seen him like this before: so homely, relaxed, vulnerable, simple.

You couldn't help but smile at the contrast between the fierce DEA agent you knew and the cozy, relaxed man he was right now.  You were used to seeing him in his usual shirts, jeans, and boots for raids, or suits and business shoes for meetings. The man in front of you looked like he had never used a firearm before, like he had never chased a drug dealer. He looked just like an ordinary early-middle-aged man.

As Javier settled down next to you on the couch, he let out a contented sigh. "This feels good," he admitted, looking around his own apartment as if he was appreciating it in a new light.You nodded in agreement, appreciating this intimate moment of vulnerability. It was a side of him you cherished, and it only made you feel closer to him.With a sense of peace, you snuggled up beside Javier on the couch, and you both enjoyed the simple comfort of being together in his cozy apartment, where for a while, the challenges of your lives were left behind.

NEXT CHAPTER

#pedro pascal #fanfic #narcos #pedro pascal x reader #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier pena imagine #javierpeña #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier peña scenes #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javierpeña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x y/n #javier peña smut #javier peña fluff #javier pena x y/n

[anti-spop]

i remember i used to be on twitter a couple years ago, and i was... sort of part of spop twitter. i even followed nate iirc.

wooooow.

yes, yes, i know a lot of spop fans are kids (mostly teens). but i dunno. i feel like ppl were so obnoxious. in fact, sometimes they reminded me of the annoying kpop stans that will spam threads with their fancams or whatever. sometimes kpop stans were also spop stans. and i definitely hated them spamming nate's account by demanding a spop movie (i'm pretty sure they made a fucking petition for it).

again, they're just teens enjoying themselves, that's cool.

problem is that they treated nate like their god, everything nate said was like part of the bible, and if you disagreed with it, you were just a homophobe. god, it's like that time nate said he was colombian bc his grandma was colombian, and literally all the comments were like "OMG NATE!!!! WE LOVE YOU SM!!!!". though there were a few ppl who were like "lmao you're not colombian, dude". i must have screenshotted that but idk if i still have it.

i mean, you guys hate when white ppl claim they're black bc their past relative is or was black, which should totally be called out, but why do you keep excusing nate? like just bc he created your childhood or helped you feel welcomed with your identity, that shouldn't excuse anything he does wrong. he's still a person that will make mistakes, not a flawless angel (i think the fact he's white probably reinforces this logic, but idk, i could be wrong).

NO, do not harass nate, okay. i do not condone harassment. i just find the spop fandom so hypocritical that they will send you death threats or actually be racist to you when you dare criticize spop or nate for those things, and yet they keep excusing nate when he says the same dumb shit white ppl say all the time. i'm not saying you're not allowed to like spop or whatever, but PLEASE have some critical thinking.

#i post #anti stans #spop critical

[addaxus]

Hello everyone, big news! After much deliberation me and my dear partner have decided that the current timeline is simply too bloated. There is too much fat so we have decided to streamline it a bit by trimming said fat. That way we get to the main story a lot quicker. Please note that as a result of these changes, certain posts related to the previous Unforeseen will be labeled as outdated!

Unforeseen Timeline (Revised)

Once Upon A Time In The Wild West

1856 (Birth)

Pedro Madrigal and Alma cross paths in the American West. Pedro, a bottom-feeding bandit, and Alma, a painted lady (prostitute), are both Colombian immigrants who have found themselves in difficult positions. They marry and have three children: Julieta, Pepa, and Bruno.

Soon after their children are born, Pedro goes on a heist with his gang—which he betrays—stealing the loot to give his new family a better life. In the hopes of evading reprisal, the Madrigals move towards Mexico. They join a group of travelers who are also attempting to cross the border. However, as they cross the Rio Grande River, Pedro's former gang members follow and attack them. Pedro makes the ultimate sacrifice to give the party ample time to depart. His death and Alma's anguish imbue the Miracle Candle with magic, repelling the intruders before building Encanto, a mystical haven reminiscent of their home country of Colombia bordered by high mountains.

Alma is left with a strong urge to safeguard their magic above everything else in the aftermath of Pedro's death.

1861 (Age 5)

Julieta, Pepa, and Bruno are given wonderful gifts from the Miracle Candle when they reach the age of five. Bruno's gift of foresight is revealed when he has a vision of an evil figure appearing in their home years in the future.

Alma instills in her children the importance of using their Gifts for the community. But, while Julieta and Pepa are adored and appreciated, Bruno is gradually vilified and scapegoated.

Small families have found their way to Encanto throughout time. It's an occurrence that no one can explain. They claim to have been guided there by golden butterflies. The residents of Encanto, on the other hand, come to accept these newcomers because they, too, are looking for a safe haven to live away from the cruelty and anarchy of the Wild West. Alma feels the magic is responsible, and while they may not understand it, they should have faith in it.

Beginning (and End) of El Ojos Diablos

1871-1877 (Age 15-21)

By the age of 15, the triplets' responsibilities considerably increase. The locals continue to dread and detest Bruno for his Gift, blaming their misfortunes on him rather than doing anything to change or prepare for it. He also struggles to live up to Alma's expectations of him. Expectations based on his mother's idealized recollection of Pedro. She hasn't told her children about the more shameful details of their lives before Encanto.

In an attempt to assist her son, Alma requests that he perform a vision for their Familia. This attempt fails when all it reveals is a future of destruction for Encanto, with an unknown spectacled girl standing in front of a broken Casita.

Alma's relationship with Bruno suffers as a result of the vision experience. He seeks sanctuary within the walls of Casita, where he creates his own private haven. There he finds camaraderie with the rats through their mutual ostracization by everyone else in Encanto.

Julieta discovers and discloses Bruno's secret hiding location to her mother out of worry for his well-being. This escalated to an argument in which Alma physically strikes Bruno before demanding that the hideaway be sealed. Bruno yells angrily at his sisters to leave, then trashes the place in a fit of rage.

Later, a minor tremor occurs, opening a small path through the mountains. Bruno, distraught and emotional, claws his way through the tunnel, the entrance falling behind him. Alma, Julieta, and Pepa soon learn Bruno has gone missing.

Bruno struggles to survive in the Wild West. His Gift of Foresight turns out to be an essential survival tool in this hostile and lawless world. After a period of barely scraping by, a dejected and disheveled Bruno wanders into the declining town of Nuevo Fortuna where he enters a saloon owned by former mercenary and killer Clarence LeRoy. Old LeRoy takes the young Madrigal boy in.

After a few weeks of working in the saloon, Bruno gets into a fight with two cowboys, Mad Mucci and Crazy Campbell. Mucci, who is inebriated, accuses Bruno of stealing and physically beats him, with Campbell assisting in the assault. During the altercation, Bruno inadvertently stabs Campbell in the gut, fatally wounding the cowboy, who dies a slow, agonizing death asking for his mama. The young man is obviously upset by this situation. Mucci swears vengeance before Clarence dispatches him.

Mucci returns with four other cowboys on a dark and stormy night. Clarence fights them off as best he can, but the assailants do manage to set the saloon on fire with molotov cocktails. A wounded Mucci flees to the town outhouse, where he is discovered by Bruno, who shoots him three times with the cowboys own firearm. Bruno, feeling horrible and unwilling to burden Clarence any further, departs of his own accord, taking a horse from the town stables and riding off into the desert.

Clarence and Bruno are reunited two years later, in 1873, in the mining boomtown of Silver Lining, Arizona. Bruno currently lives among immigrants, led by Herr Rissmann and Madame Brancusi, camped just outside of town, the majority of whom work as cheap labor for the Silver Lining Mining Company. Given his reputation, Clarence is hired as a security guard at a local gambling institution, where he keeps the rowdiest clientele in line. Everything goes smoothly... For a while.

A group of riders raids the camp, resulting in multiple deaths. Clarence encourages Bruno to help identify the murderers so that Carey Jr., the local lawman, may deal with them lawfully. However, Carey Jr. recognizes the gang's commander as notorious gunfighter Bullseye Biehn, who is accompanied by Lapdog Lang, Cutthroat Church, Pistol Philbin, and Badmouth Burke. Carey Jr. is intimidated and refuses to arrest them. Bruno is provoked by Biehn's taunting and shoots him with the late Mucci's revolver, which he had retained since departing Nuevo Fortuna. His actions trigger a brief but intense gunfight in which Church, Philbin, and Burke are killed, with Lang fleeing and Clarence injured. Herr Rissmann ends up dead after getting caught in the crossfire.

People in town seem to want to hang Bruno. In their eyes, a goddamn Mexican runt committed cold-blooded murder. Carey Jr. attempts to arrest Bruno, but the teen is emboldened by his deeds and holds the sheriff at gunpoint. He rips off the sheriff's badge in contempt at his cowardice before fleeing with Clarence, the mob too afraid to intervene. Clarence reprimands the lad for his actions once they get outside of town. Bruno gets enraged by the old man’s scolding, wondering why everyone else does what he just did, but when he does the same thing, it's bad.

An incensed Bruno rejoins his camp, who are not delighted to see him. They explain that, as a result of his activities in Cosmatos, they must all relocate or suffer retaliation. As a result, he is exiled from the group. This causes him to have a vision in which he sees the camp being assaulted by bandits as they migrate. Rather than trying to warn them, Bruno abandons them to their fate, viewing them as no better than the people back in Encanto.

Following the Silver Lining Shootout, rumors circulate about a gunfighter with the devil's eyes and disposition. A killer who will out-draw and shoot anyone foolish enough to provoke him. No one knows his name or where he came from. Witness evidence was unreliable, and descriptions of this outlaw proved to be exaggerated. The only constants were that he was Mexican, wore an unusual green poncho, and had eyes that shone an unholy green. Such tall tales earned him the name El Ojos Diablos (Butchered Spanish for The Devil's Eyes).

Pieces of information about El Ojos Diablos’ deeds are carried on unnatural winds to Encanto. Alma, Julieta, and Pepa are shaken by the outlaws' fanciful but sparse accounts because they sound suspiciously similar to someone they know all too well.

In 1875, cattleman McGraw employed Clarence as a cowhand to join him, his wife Audrey, and their daughter, May on a cross-country cattle drive from Tennessee to Wyoming Territory. Cattle rustlers ambush the group halfway through their journey. McGraw is killed, while Old LeRoy is wounded. Bruno is revealed to be one of the rustlers. Upon seeing Clarence’s injured state, Bruno turns on his gang and executes them all with cold frightening ease before personally slaying the head rustler.

Bruno resolves to assist Clarence, Audrey, and May in completing their journey. His seemingly innate capacity to predict danger makes him crucial to their survival. Everyone is oblivious of his Gift and the suffering it brings him. He copes with his pain by occasionally sipping booze. Bruno also shows off his revolver, Memento, which is Mucci's revolver that has been customized to the boy's specifications.

When they arrive at their location in Bullhead, Wyoming, Bruno invites Clarence to the saloon for drinks. When Old LeRoy insists on the Madrigal lad returning home, what appears to be a typical night of companionship between them devolves into an argument. Bruno bitterly refuses and attempts to retire for the evening. Unfortunately, May, who holds Bruno responsible for her father's murder, dares him to a duel, which he accepts once she provokes him. Knowing May will not win, Clarence knocks Bruno out with a bottle of whiskey before handing him over to the law. This "betrayal" stings Bruno. Bruno escapes custody one night, killing two deputies on his way out. Clarence aims to shoot the youngster with his rifle as he rides away, but realizes he lacks the nerve to do so.

In 1877, Clarence settled down as a rancher in New Mexico Territory. Sutherland, Phillips, Sheen, Mulroney, and Siemaszko, his hired workers, look up to him as a mentor figure.

Felix Freeman, a former Caribbean Island plantation slave, is apprehended while attempting to steal from the LeRoy Ranch. Felix's disheveled, downtrodden state is reminiscent of Bruno. Clarence chooses to take Felix in, intending to place him on a better path. Felix's sharp eye and attention have earned him the nickname Halcon Eye.

Rosemary, Clarence’s estranged sister, brings her son Emilio Agustin Estevez Jr. to work for him in an attempt to straighten him out. Emilio Senior, the boy's father, was a jerk who left a long time ago. Clarence finds Agustin's behavior reminiscent of Bruno. He agrees to help the boy so he does not go down the same terrible road.

Agustin is initially at odds with the other hired hands due to his near-sightedness and refusal to wear spectacles, causing him to screw up on more than one occasion. He earns himself the unflattering nickname Squinty.

Over the past two years, El Ojos Diablos' exploits have become more erratic and violent. He’s developed a bad habit of escalating situations out of sheer intemperance. As a result, every gang he rode with never lasted very long, not that he cared. Said gangs were unaware that El Ojos Diablos rode amongst them until shit went south on account of his explosive temper. From then on, even other outlaws grew weary of his name.

El Ojos Diablos suffered from frequent mood swings and terrible visions, which did little to improve his already sour demeanor. Alcohol relieved his agony, while bullets put an end to any grievances he had—as bitter and selfish as he was. Bullets delivered tthrough his two trusty shooting irons, Memento and Mori. This devil's actions gained a $5,000 bounty on his head, attracting a wide range of people eager to make their fortune. Those poor fools never found any fortune. They only found a bullet between their eyes.

El Ojos Diablos' terrible tales spread far and wide. Tales that eventually reached Encanto. This was too much for the Madrigals. So much so that Alma forbids any mention of her son’s existence. Alma, Julieta, and Pepa all deal with their sadness privately in different ways.

The LeRoy Ranch Boys eventually bond over their mutual interest in Wild West Dime Novels. When a terrible drought strikes Old LeRoy's ranch, the boys advise going after El Ojos Diablos, who is said to be lurking around Texas. Clarence quickly refuses such an undertaking upon seeing El Ojos Diablos’ poster illustration, albeit he does not explain why.

The boys decide to pursue El Ojos Diablos on their own. They buy a bunch of guns (on Clarence's tab) before riding off to Texas. On the way, they choose to call themselves the Young Guns. They arrive at the town of Rest’N’Peace and spend the night drinking, boasting, and celebrating their future prosperity. An inebriated El Ojos Diablos turns up and slaughters the novice Young Guns, killing Sutherland, Phillips, Sheen, Mulroney, and Siemaszko with eyes flashing a horrible green. Only Agustin and Felix remain, with the latter fleeing in terror while the former is left injured and at the mercy of the killer.

Clarence arrives right before El Ojos Diablos is about to execute Agustin. Their conversation reveals that El Ojos Diablos is actually Bruno: Alcohol, stress, and a lack of personal care have turned him into a bitter, resentful ghoul. Old LeRoy sees his boys dead and what the young Madrigal kid has become. Both draw on the other, with El Ojos Diablos emerging victorious. Bruno, visibly distraught by what he has done, retreats into the night, leaving Agustin with Clarence, who gives some final words of wisdom as he dies.

Felix conceals himself in a dark alleyway. He sees Bruno escaping and moves to shoot him with his Spencer 1860 Rifle. However, Freeman's nerve weakens, allowing Bruno to flee.

Agustin and Felix lay to rest their mentor and companions in the Rest'N'Peace Cemetery. Rosemary, bereaved, disowns Agustin. Egger, the village undertaker, sympathizes with the kids and advises them to make a fresh start south of the Rio Grande. Both Estevez and Freeman choose to heed the undertaker's advice.

El Ojos Diablos vents his grief over Clarence's death elsewhere. He's hiding away among rats and empty booze bottles in a run-down homestead. The weight of everything he has done buries him under immense guilt.

Agustin and Felix reach the Rio Grande. From there they are led into Encanto by a golden butterfly. Both are taken aback by everything around them. So amazed, in fact, that Agustin becomes sidetracked and has an accident, injuring his leg. Julieta heals him, displaying their magic. She and Pepa offer to assist them in becoming acquainted with the town, which he accepts. Alma eventually meets and talks with the two about their circumstances, considering the fact they both arrived alone. Agustin gives Alma the bare bones of what happened before their arrival. Hearing that they both lost their companions as a result of an unlawful slaughter is enough for the Madrigal Matriarch. She welcomes them as new members of the community.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

1877-1888 (Age 21-32)

Agustin makes frequent visits to Julieta since his accident-prone activities get him hurt all the time. This helps them get more intimate. Agustin discusses the incident at Rest’N’Peace, but he is too ashamed and guilty to continue.

Felix and Pepa become infatuated at the same time. He understands her emotional struggles and how they affect her Gift. They develop a mutual affection for one other.

Alma receives no additional word about El Ojos Diablos. She now knows nothing about her son other than the romanticized fabrications his deeds inspired.

Both couples got married in 1885. Felix and Pepa’s wedding day proved to be unforgettable when a man in a flying contraption crashes into the town church. Agustin and Julieta's daughter Isabela is born the same year, while Felix and Pepa's firstborn daughter Dolores arrives a few months later.

Agustin and Julieta’s second daughter Luisa was born in 1887.

Do Something Right

1889-1891 (Age 33-35)

La Famiglia Morricone secured a bank loan to purchase land in the autumn of 1889. They plan to establish a horse stable near the town of Second Chance, Oklahoma Territory. When they arrive at their lot, they discover a dilapidated shack inhabited by a single squatter… A now 33-year-old Bruno.

Bruno is a recluse who lives by himself. He lives off the land and avoids people. Solitude has partially improved his disposition, but he is a considerably more weary and somber man, tormented by his past mistakes.

The squatter agrees to leave for the benefit of the Morricones. He doesn't want to burden or trouble anyone else. Signore and Signora Morricone's daughter, Maria Morricone, understands Bruno's circumstance. She offers him the opportunity to reside on their property in exchange for working as a hired hand. Bruno hesitantly accepted this offer. Alonzo Morricone, Maria's brother, is suspicious of Bruno.

By December 1889, the Morricone Stables were operational. However, winter arrives early when a terrible blizzard sweeps through the territory, causing great hardship for the town of Second Chance and everything that surrounds it. Signore Morricone contracts tuberculosis and dies from overexertion. Signora Morricone dies soon after of heartbreak. Maria and Alonzo are left to pay off their remaining debts or lose their home.

Bruno develops a fever. Whilst being brought over to the main house, Bruno has a vision of Maria's future in which she has a child. This astounds the Morricone Siblings. Bruno ends up being confined to the main house due to his failing health and the harsh winter conditions.

The former outlaw opens up to Maria while in her care. He finds her easy to talk to, and she listens in genuine silence, offering her own words of empathy. Her compassion and understanding soothe the lonely, bitter boy buried deep within.

Bruno recovers and helps the Morricone Siblings pay back their debt. A mutual attraction develops between Bruno and Maria. The two do eventually marry with Bruno choosing to take on Maria's maiden name.

That same year, Isabela and Dolores both receive their own wonderful Gifts. Isabela is endowed with the ability to conjure and control plants, while Dolores gains super-hearing. Alma is especially proud of Isabela's Gift, but she is concerned when Dolores' Gift becomes too much for her. Her reaction reminds her of He Who Must Not Be Mentioned. Alma, concerned about what her granddaughters might become, shows them both a book with articles and scraplets describing Bruno's numerous crimes. This serves as a warning to both granddaughters to always be grateful for their Gifts and to never be hesitant to serve the community, lest they end up like their cold-blooded uncle.

Bruno Morricone became well-regarded by the town of Second Chance. Everyone recognises him for his abilities and patience with animals. Because of their love and concern for Maria, he and Alonzo have created a strong brotherly bond.

Maria develops morning sickness. A trip to the town doctor reveals that she is pregnant. When Maria breaks the news to Bruno, he panics and has a vision. He envisions their child, revealed to be a girl, killing someone with a double-barreled shotgun. Maria quickly reassures her husband, telling him that instead of fearing the worst, they should focus on raising their daughter to be a decent person. This calms Bruno down a little, but he's still nervous.

On her fifth birthday, Luisa Madrigal receives her gift of super-strength. Alma shows her the book of El Ojos Diablos. Has about the same effect it had on Isabela and Dolores.

Richie Spait, a wounded and on-the-run bandit, bursts into the Morricone home one night and takes a visibly pregnant Maria hostage. He demands everything valuable in their home, as well as a horse. Richie has no idea whose house he broke into. The house rats divert his attention long enough for Maria to flee and Bruno to strike. Spait tries to flee, but Bruno shoots him with a shotgun. The outraged husband and soon-to-be father strangles Richie to death before flinging his body to Alonzo’s hogs. The experience disturbs him because of how swiftly he reverted to his old ways. Alonzo consoles him with the fact he had acted in defense of those he loved. Something anyone else in the same position would do.

Mirabel Morricone was born in the month of March, 1891. Camilo Madrigal, Felix and Pepa's second child, is born around the same time.

A sinister force stirs within Bruno's sealed tower.

1896 (Age 40)

Bruno has kept his distance from Mirabel for the previous five years due to his anxieties about the prophecy he had regarding her. He believes that being around her will bring about the future he predicted. Mirabel spends most of her time with her mother, but she longs for her father's attention as well.

Mirabel is nicknamed Mira-Boo by Alonzo. She responds by referring to him as Bud Bear, a nickname bestowed upon him by a Native American Shaman and which Maria teased him about in their youth, much to his dismay.

In the days leading up to Mirabel's fifth birthday, Bruno worries about whether or not his child will receive a Gift like he did.

Mirabel witnesses her Papa having an uncontrollable vision. She inquires if he is a witch. Bruno reluctantly informs her about his Gift. Naturally, the little girl becomes very excited. Her father does not share this sentiment.

Mirabel receives no Gift on her fifth birthday. Her door, unbeknownst to the Morricones, appears within Casita. The Madrigals are reasonably perplexed by this, considering the door shows a spectacled girl and the doorknob has a 'M' on it. Eventually, the door vanishes without a trace. Nonetheless, the Madrigals are left wondering who that child was.

Mirabel spends the next few days looking for her "Gift." She tries to fly off the roof. Bruno saves and then shouts at her, telling Mirabel she'd be better off without one. Maria consoles her daughter before gently discussing the matter with Bruno. Mrs. Morricone suggests that Mirabel may have desired a Gift in order to be closer to her Papa. A Papa who has been largely absent from his daughter's life.

Bruno gives his daughter her own horse in order to make amends with Mirabel and find a way for them to spend time together. Specifically, Maria’s mare Marmalade's newborn foal who was conceived after an unfortunate overnight incident involving a customer's stud whilst Marmalade had been in heat. Mirabel names the foal Pedro. Bruno and Mirabel raise Pedro together, with the Morricone Daughter displaying her talent for animals.

Camilo receives the ability to shape-shift on his fifth birthday. Alma shows him the El Ojos Diablos book. However, due to the numerous exaggerations of Bruno's exploits as an outlaw, young Camilo is left with the sense that his Tio was an anti-heroic gunfighter.

1899 (Age 43)

Maria becomes bedridden after contracting pneumonia. Bruno considers taking her to Encanto or traveling there himself to have Julieta heal her. The local doctor, on the other hand, makes it obvious that she is in no condition to be relocated and does not have much time. Bruno Morricone can't bear the prospect of leaving just to find his sweetheart dead when he returns. Maria requests that he spend the remaining time with her, Mirabel, and Alonzo as a full family.

Maria dies shortly after Mirabel's eighth birthday. Bruno leaves Mirabel with Alonzo while he buries her privately. Despite his wishes to be alone, Mirabel joins him, resulting in both father and daughter supporting each other in their grief over Maria's death.

Following Maria's death, Bruno has a serious discussion with his daughter. He informs Mirabel that everything Maria left is hers to inherit. It is merely his duty as her father to manage the place until she is ready.

1901 (Age 45)

Pepa gives birth to her and Felix’s third child, Antonio.

#unforeseen #unforeseen: the fable of el ojos diablos #timeline #update

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

How a surge in organized crime threatens the Amazon

In the heart of the Brazilian Amazon, armed men wearing balaclavas and wielding firearms intimidated me and two other journalists on a remote riverbank near the Colombian border in February. We had ventured into the rainforest to investigate the surge in violence and illegal mining and drug trafficking that the Amazon has witnessed since 2016, and to map the presence of cross-border armed groups. We are part of Amazon Underworld, a media alliance comprising more than 30 professionals.

We knew that the region harboured shotgun-carrying gold miners who illegally dredge the river with gargantuan barges, and Colombian guerrillas who cross into Brazil to shake the miners down for gold. But the armed individuals who stopped us were affiliated with the state — a rogue military police unit that oversees and shields illegal mining operations. Working outside the law, they amass millions of dollars in gold payments annually. There, in their shadowy domain, no one who asks questions is welcome.

The leader of the armed outfit demanded that we delete all the photos we had taken during two days of observing mining barges, before seizing our memory cards. Fortunately, we had a hidden backup.

Illegal mining is but one part of a complex web of transnational organized crime, corruption and resource extraction that is threatening the Amazon — a crucial climate regulator. Yet improving security in the Amazon was missing from the agenda at COP28, the 2023 United Nations climate summit in Dubai, United Arab Emirates. Addressing this security dilemma is pivotal to safeguarding the Amazon rainforest, the populations it shelters and the global climate.

Continue reading.

#brazil #brazilian politics #politics #environmentalism #amazon rainforest #environmental justice #public security #mod nise da silveira #image description in alt

[whiskeynwriting]

🌹

(sorry i’ve only been lurking lately bestie, i haven’t been feeling the most confident, but ilysm just like always 🥺🫶)

Bb don't you worry about a thing! I know you're always there supporting me (: my dms are always open too my love, I hope you're doing okay ♥️

Here's a lil teaser for a Daddy Whiskey one-shot titled "Colombian Cowboy". It’s based off of the picture below. I didn’t make it so if anyone knows who did, I’ll give them credit!

Co-written with the wonderful @phnyx

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) dom daddy whiskey + rough daddy whiskey (I'm drooling), choking, slight oral fixation, praise kink

The hand he uses to grab your jaw is musty and half-covered in dirt, yanking your face upwards to look him directly in the eye.

“I said now, or later?” he grits out, raising his brows authoritatively as he expects a response.

Staring up at him, he’s backlit by the sun like some Greek god. His hat blocks the main rays of the sun, shielding you from the direct and blinding light. He looks sweaty and tired, but more than ready to handle you. 

“Now,” You whimper out in response, breath-taken by the current state he’s in. “Please.”

“Good.” It comes out thick and low, his voice always rich with that southern drawl.

All too easily, he forces you to step back, walking forward until your back hits the outside wall of the barn. Without hesitation, he immediately grabs your throat, the tips of his fingers on his free hand then flying to your mouth.

“Get these wet for me.” He demands, shoving them inside.

“Mm,” you mumble, eyes going wide when you gag involuntarily.

It makes him smile, towering over you and squeezing your neck while he shoves his fingers down your throat. Both of your hands reach for his forearm, clinging to him tightly while you moan. When you gather your bearings, you begin to suck, unable to tear your gaze from his eyes while doing so. It makes your center pulse, already weeping for him. Jack’s eyes focus on you, his brow furrowing slightly as he pumps his two fingers in and out of your mouth. He rubs the pads of them down on your tongue, grinning wickedly when you gag on them again.

“You’re doing so good,” he grumbles, eyes dipping down to your currently occupied mouth. And listening to Jack’s praise while his fingers are in your mouth makes you burn bright inside.

It makes him so happy to see you like this, so willingly submissive. You like it, too, he knows you do. You live for it, and honestly, he does too. 

#oof #Daddy Whiskey #this one's gonna be so good

[kaira-diaries]

Pistol:

Note: one shot is also available on Wattpad under my account Kairadiaries for those who prefer it. Also, there will be multiple parts to this one shot so bear with me !!

Warning: violence / death / blood / gun use & language

Pairing: Javi x f!character

Summary: You are the daughter of Pablo Escobar's business partner, and your life takes an uncomfortable turn when you're thrown into your first task.

••••

Pablo was evident in his tone as he held a pistol to your father's head. You should have seen it coming when Papa refused the drug lord's offer. The rules in this world were simple: saying no was something you just didn't do. The fright had set in when your father's eyes had watered. He knew that his daughter was the next best thing when he was reluctant to serve his boss, and he'd kept up his ends of constructed deals for years until now. It wasted no time driving you conflicted in trying to spell out the type of father he was. Isn't a parent meant to throw themselves in front of a bus to keep their child alive? You'd sure think so. Your Papa knew you wanted no part in this game of illegal activities, and it left your relationship upside-down.

The fright surfaced from an unknown depth in your gut. It wasn't from the threat on your father's life or the uncharacteristic alarm on his wilting features. Your Papa didn't fear much; when he did, it was for a damn good reason or because he had done something absurd. You concluded that was the cause of his fear, the realization that he'd refused the most powerful drug lord in the country, and now the weight of the task was thrown on your skinny shoulders. Now, that is the reason for your own fear. Your first task. From what you learned in the mansion, they weren't called missions; that sounded too... civil, especially when Pablo's overall objective is anything but civilized.

All eyes were on you as you stood with your arms by your side, your back drenched in sweat from the Colombian heat. The smell of cigarettes and liquor poisoned your nostrils. Pablo had asked for your response, cocking the silver gun in his palm, earning a flinch from your father in return. You only nodded, your back stiff like iron and your mouth too sand-dry to compose words. The man was terrifying. It drew more attention than you had hoped, enabling Pablo to tread across the corridor floor. His men swiftly moved out of his way and watched as he leaned in.

"You will not fail." He ordered, his mustache danced as his demand left his lips. You leaned back as his breath invaded your surroundings while his eyes skated across your figure. For an odd reason, you felt this task was the most important. It felt like a one-chance-only ordeal. You fail; it's over. You nodded once more as your drug lord whispered a promise of death on you and your father if you were to fall.

You didn't want this, but it wasn't up to you, so you did what you were told. The task was "simple": get close to the renowned Javier Pena, the DEA's most critical agent, find intel, and report back.

-

Flung out of a taxi with a pair of apartment keys and a rugged suitcase, you found yourself on the streets of Bogota. The lights were bright as you took in the surrounding buildings. The addresses nailed into the bricked foundations didn't correspond to the keychain you pulled from your pocket, and you started on your journey into the crowded city streets.

You've never walked this far before; living in Pablo's mansion meant chauffeurs and free rides across the beautiful Colombian countryside, among other things. You had to admit that living a life you wanted nothing to do with had perks. Bending over to regrip the hold on your suitcase, people parted for you, and men whistled your way. You excused it as the ache in your legs grew but overlooked it as quickly as you saw the salsa dancing across the street. It would have been a dancer if you could have been anything in this world. You even took lessons when you were just a girl and were at the top of the echelon. You crossed the street, approaching the crowd, smiling at the beautiful lady in red with wonderous joy on her face. Her partner spins her flawlessly on cue with the music. He was handsome, with brown eyes, brown hair, and pleasant tan skin, everything you find enchanting. His smile was ravishing under the lights. You could have sworn it was love at first sight, though you've never experienced such a distinguishing thing. Love at first sight? Unexplored. Your heart leaped until you recalled why you were here, and you forced your legs to move as you passed the crowd and continued to look for the apartment.

An hour passed until you found the apartment; it was a peaceful street with quiet road and foot traffic. The sun had set, allowing a cool breeze to blow through your chocolate brown locks. The stars lit the sky and reflected in your eyes as you took in the atmosphere. The sounds of the trees swaying, the bugs croaking, and laughter ringing through the distance. It was a calming aura, and you made your way up the stairs, holding the railing to keep your weary legs from crumpling. Shutting the main door behind you, a poorly lit hallway welcomes you. The light above flickered every few seconds, supported by the warm glow of a lamp from down the hall. You located your door virtually a juncture later. The second door from the entrance, apartment number two, sat waiting for you. The number was hammered into the paint-chipped door, and you skated your fingers across the cold material. The hard key slipped into the door knob, and you slid into the apartment. It was adequate. A step down from the mansion, but you'd perform your magic and make it a hospitable home. At a quick glance, you already knew what could be accomplished with it.

Unpacking was a chore, though you were wonderfully surprised that your drug lord picked out stunning garments. In exploring the apartment, you found the kitchen stocked with all types of food, but your hand twitched, seeing a note in one of the drawers. It read...

Javier is in apartment one; his schedule is 8:30-5. Meet him, talk to him, fuck him, force your way into his life for all I care. Find intel, get him to lean on you, and report back.

You will not fail.

Pablo.

His parting words sent an electric chill down your spine, and you relied on the sink behind you to keep you from plunging. You were beautiful but no good at flirtation. What scared you most was receiving no interest. You wouldn't know what to do if that happened.

You jerked the worry from your figure and settled on venturing out for dinner. With a sweater in hand and your keys in the other, you shut your apartment door behind you, ignorant of the presence beside you.

"You're a new face." A velvety voice called. Your chin drew in the direction of a man with brown eyes and brown hair with pleasant tan skin. You blinked, the only sign of surprise you allowed as you remembered him from earlier. The loverboy looked happier than ever in the arms of the woman in red. It was a bittersweet feeling, and your heart drooped with sadness. This is the man you must trick. His golden key fit snugly in the door marked by the number one, and his smile remained secure. You cleared your throat.

"Just moved in, actually." You returned the grin and introduced yourself. He did the same, his large hand engulfing yours in a shake. The ring on his middle finger countered the warmth of his skin. "What a beautiful ring," you praised. He retracted his hand, fidgeting with the golden iron, his eyes scrutinizing it. "Heirloom," he shrugged. You broke from a trance you didn't comprehend, stepping back and gripping your bag that swung on your arm. "Um," you began, biting your cheek, earning an amused chuckle. You were still determining where to go with this exchange. "I was just on my way to get some dinner, but I'm not too sure where I should go. Any suggestions?"

He grins, "yeah," he says, popping his gum between his sparkling teeth, and shakes his brown-haired head. "I know a place." He stares down at his watch to read the time, though you can't help but notice the faint singular scar that just showed below his hairline. It was a peculiar shape. Javier peeked back at you, nodding his head toward the door. "I'll lead the way." You'd turn a man down to protect your life in a normal situation. Your Papa always said to never trust a soul; You guess that's why you're here in the first place.

You blink back to reality. Javier holds the apartment complex door for you, allowing you to go first, and shuts it behind him. Walking down the steps, you didn't realize the trek to the restaurant would be spent in mere silence, but when you came upon the sweet cantina, the smell of food brought you to life. Walking behind Javier to the table, you couldn't restrain yourself from observing how the jeans fit his behind; the denim hugged him perfectly as he paired it with a black leather jacket, red shirt, and brown boots. It was intriguing. As you sat down, other women across the restaurant appeared to consider the same as they gaped and gossiped with each other. Javier offered a flirtatious wink and settled into his seat.

"Do you get that a lot?" You asked. He shook his jacket off, revealing tan solid arms. "More than you know." You searched for jest in his voice, then realized he was entirely serious. Before things got too awkward, the waitress approached your table, offering specials and suggestions for the night. You settled for one of the steak specials. Javier went for the chicken.

"So, what brings you to one of the most dangerous cities in Colombia?" You nearly bite your cheek, thinking up an answer. "Family baggage," you respond. His brow raises, asking for more. "My husband was abusive. I ran from America to Colombia looking for my father." Your drinks arrive and are placed directly in front of the two of you. Your mouth watered at the sight of yours. Taking a generous sip, you continue, "Safe to say, I found him. He took me in and gave me a safe place to heal and just...take a breath." You took a deep breath. You weren't lying, at least not regarding your baggage. You sat back with your legs crossed as Javier took it in. "I'm sorry." He replied. You shrugged your shoulders.

"What about you?" You asked, beginning to move in the direction of getting intel. He clicks his tongue, "I'm here for work. Was transferred over from the States. Other than that, I just eat, sleep, and fuck." You nearly choked on your drink as your teeth clashed against the rim of the glass. Javier just raised his glass, making a toast with a feline smirk. "Why were you transferred to Colombia?" He set his drink down on the table, studying how the water droppings ran down the cold body of the glass. "Things got bad here." He released a long breath, "I wasn't really needed in the States." You shook your head, understanding. "What is it you do?" You pushed; he glimpsed up at you, those brown eyes searching for falsehood. You batted your lashes, projecting innocence. "I work in the drug enforcement agency." He leaned forward, his shoulders purchasing the table. His lips had just parted when your plates of food arrived. You wondered what he planned to say, but you raised a brow at how he thanked the waitress. It must have been how the pet name Sugar rubbed you erroneously.

You hadn't wasted any time digging into your food. You groaned with satisfaction from the spiced potatoes that excited your tongue. The cumin and pepper invited you to stack more onto your fork, and the smell of steak traveled deliciously through the air. It was a meal you've eaten countless times in Pablo's mansion, though this time it felt different. You found yourself savoring the food, savoring the atmosphere you were in. It was disencumbered by the stench of death that had hovered over your shoulder. You could still remember the screams of pain that echoed through the halls as you laid your head on your silk pillow every night.

"So," He said, taking a bite of chicken. "What's your profession then?" You chewed on your upper lip, thinking. "I own a bookstore." You replied. It wasn't true, but gosh, was it your dream? You earned a warm smile from Javier, and he swallowed his mouthful of food. It was a dashing smile, accompanied by his amiable dimples that could weaken anyone in the knees. His eyes hadn't broken away from yours, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks grow. You felt awkward. No one had ever looked at you like that. Being your father's daughter was enough to scare any man away. It was comical to consider the effect Javier already had on you. You only just encountered him an hour ago, and sitting here now, you had almost forgotten your objective and why you were here. You broke the contact, looking down at your lap. You had a job and wouldn't allow your fantasies to get the best of you.

The two of you finished your dinners and exchanged small talk before your waitress returned to leave the check. Javier snatched it before you even thought, though you insisted on covering the tip. He smirked, giving in to your pleas, and the two of you slid out of the booth. It felt like a long walk home. The feeling of being watched never left your side. You were aware of the fact that Pablo had his men watching. The haunted feeling was enough to know. You did your best to school your features as you walked beside Javier. What nearly turned your stomach was that his face revealed he knew something was wrong, too. You should have known; he's a DEA agent. He's built with instincts as strong as a bloodhound. Turning the corner, the two of you found yourselves out front of your apartment complex; you stumbled when you found Javier at the bottom of the staircase. Your brow rose, "Aren't you coming in?"

He shook his head, "Nah, I've got some work to do." He scanned his surroundings once more. "Sleep well, I'll see you around." He finished his goodbye with your name, took his truck keys from his back pocket, and disappeared around the corner. You read your watch. It was too late to be doing any kind of work. You had to follow him out of pure curiosity and to collect potential intel, and that's what you found yourself doing when your legs began to move, carrying you swiftly down the stairs and in the direction of the DEA agent.

Turning the corner led you onto a street of darkness. There was a lack of street lights; the further you went, the less you could see. The thought of turning back was plaguing your mind until your eyes spotted a leather jacket. Jumping behind the nearest brick wall of a corner shop, you leaned out, focusing down the street. There, he was in front of what seemed to be a brothel with another man, but you couldn't make out his features and had to get closer. You shifted back behind the wall. You were afraid. There was too much on the line to be caught.

You couldn't risk jeopardizing a potential relationship between you and Javier. The thought made your back spineless as you closed your eyes and took deep breaths. This hardly seemed fair. You have nearly no field experience. Your job was to be seen, not heard, and you liked it. You didn't particularly want to be involved with criminal activity directly; this life requires responsibilities too big to handle with an extensive price. You rubbed your sweaty palms against your jeans and ran a hand through your hair. You could do this. You had to do this. Fluttering your lashes, you brought yourself to peek into the corner again. The two men had their backs turned towards you. Now was your chance, and you got moving. Keeping your eyes on them, there was a newsstand, empty but able to keep you hidden from sight. You sped up, crouching and listening to the men's conversation.

You got bits and pieces, but there was mention of a raid led by the Colonel, who you assumed to be the one standing directly beside Javier. He had a handsome backside, covered in a nude color from head to toe. His hair was black and cut in precise detail. They spoke of Pablo's location and that the Colonel would lead his men. You took note of the area of the raid, putting it in the back of your head for later, and got out of there as quickly as possible. With this information, you could alert Pablo, and he could pull his men before the DEA arrived, giving them another dead end and the loss of another reliable source.

Arriving back at the complex, you relished in the relief of the street lights above. You felt safe and headed inside, shutting the door behind you. Hopping on the couch, you pulled some ice cream from the freezer. It was your favorite flavor, no doubt an influence from your father. Maybe even an apology. Fuck any type of apology he'd try to make. When you moved to Colombia and learned of his profession, you asked for a chance at a simple life. Jake sure as hell never gave you one. You rubbed the faded proof on the skin of your arm. It was a scar, a knife wound. At least, you had thought. Being young, you felt that blacking out from alcohol was a successful experience of the reckless twenties. Believe it or not, you wanted that. You liked it with your best friends. You figured that the last shred of innocent youth had died when you blacked out and woke on the floor of your living room wearing nothing but bruises and freshly made scars. You hadn't thought of blacking out the same. Your husband only sat in the chair across from you, complaining about how long you had to regain consciousness.

So yeah, you wanted peace.

The choice was taken from you. Without your father, you'd be on the streets of Colombia, innocent to criminals, bored of the everyday routine. It was either this life or ending up on the roads, and deciding to run would have been for nothing.

Apologies mean nothing to you these days.

You grabbed the remote, turning the TV on to a soap opera, quickly disturbed by a knock at the door. You groaned, just kicking your feet up on the couch. Standing up, you threw the door open and looked down, finding a boy. Pablo's boy. A messenger. "Xolo?" Your brow rose as the boy smiled. Opening the door wider, you allowed him to come in.

"How about some ice cream for you long journey? It's cookie dough?" He jumped up and down, sitting at your kitchen island. Xolo was a parculiar boy. He was reticent and only said what needed to be said. Guess that's why Pablo likes him so much. You gave him the pint and let him sit and watch TV. He might work for Pablo, but he's still just a boy, and you've always treated him as such.

Sitting at the table, you encrypted your message, just as you were taught by your father, and sealed it safely. Xolo shook your shoulder a moment later, and you shifted in your chair, offering the intel and a hug. "Get back safe, okay?" You said, pulling back and pinching his chin. Your heart indeed went out to the boy. Pablo had done awful things to his parents once he'd seen potential in Xolo and wanted to use it. You knew then that Pablo would stop at nothing to get what he wants. Nothing will get in his way, not even family.

It had been a couple of days after Xolo journeyed back to Pablo's. You received a call last night from him with praise and satisfaction for your intel. Pablo hadn't shared what he'd do with it, but perhaps you'd soon hear in the news.

Rolling out of bed, you stalked to the kitchen for some breakfast but paused with one foot in the living room. You stared around briefly, thinking of ways to freshen up the apartment. It's then you got the idea. Flowers always brighten a room; if you'll live here for a while, why not make it a cozy home.

You hop in the shower quickly after some breakfast and wash up for the day. You'd ultimately decide on a denim skirt with a tight, long-sleeve v-neck. You were going to the nearest flower shop with some makeup and a light scarf. You had a map in hand to direct you, and usually, you'd be embarrassed, but a bouquet sounded too sweet even to care what others thought.

Walking through the crowd, you noted how the streets were filled. Families, hand in hand, were around everywhere you looked. The pure joy in their eyes was so beautiful that you could have sat on the nearest bench to watch. You continued to walk, though, as a bitter taste in your mouth presented itself. Working for the man who planned to fill these streets with a fatal drug was a hard pill to swallow. Making a right turn, you found the corner flower shop, small and empty, with baskets of flowers decorating the outside. Your neck carried your head from left to right to adore the decorations. It was appealing and welcoming. The sweet smell already filled your nostrils as you pushed the door open. Your brown shoes carried you across the store; the floor creaked with every step until you found a bouquet to your liking. Babies' breath and pink dahlias bloomed, tickling your skin as you select the cluster. You knew it'd look lovely in your favorite vase adorning the dining table. Swinging your bag to the front of your waist, you pulled your planner from the black leather to mark your to-do list. It was something you began to grow fond of. You found comfort in the consistency and organization that distracted you from the unpredictable.

The cashier took you in head to toe as you turned to her. Little did you know, she read you correctly as a homely girl.

With the bouquet placed gently on the counter, you pulled out your wallet.

"This is our least popular bouquet." She examined it and picked it up for wrapping. "In my opinion, it's our most beautiful. It ought to be popular." She offered the warmest smile. You clicked your tongue, "Not many people look past the red rose." She nodded. You examined her in-depth for a moment. Considering the fine lines that populated her face, you smiled and handed her your cash.

Though, before she could take it, she paused, and the screams echoing down the street were enough to tell you why.

You pivoted, scurrying across the floor to stare out the window, and what you found shook you to the core. Your jaw slowly fell, parting your lips as you saw that kaki-wearing man bloodied in the middle of the street. His expression revealed shock and anger as he fell to the ground, riddled with bullets.

That's when the realization kicked in, and you stepped back from the glass window into a pair of hands that gripped your shoulders. "Oh dear, don't look at that." She spun you around, pulling you behind the counter into the door of her office. You nearly fell into the chair, realizing what you've done.

The intel you gave Xolo massacred that man.

His blood is on your hands; you sold him out; you killed him.

"These things always happen, dearie." She poured you a glass of water. Handing it to you, she continued, "But to those who aren't used to it, well." She offered a sad smile that didn't reach her eyes. It suggested this town expected nothing less.

Your trembling hand took the glass, and you muttered a thank you, left with a pit at the bottom of your stomach.

#pedro pascal #lovers #fanfic #slow burn #betrayal #narcos #agent peña #agent murphy #javier peña #friends to lovers #enemies to lovers

[hotpocketpena]

You don’t get to walk out on me again

Notes: Please be v patient w me. I have not written anything since Dionsaurs were alive so I’m very rusty!

OK so I’m obvi obsessed with Mr sexy Pena so I had to make my first about him. He is the loml and i have frequent dreams about this dreamy man that will eventually turn into posts so oopsie. 

I hope ya’ll enjoy n lemme know what u tink ;)

ps. I am terrible with Spanish (ltrlly just used google translate pls no attack)

Overview - Reader x Javier were in a long term relationship, but things got messy and the relationship ended. Reader has now moved on but can’t completely move on because Javi wont let her go. 

Use of Y/N

Word Count - 2.8k+

Warnings - Swearing

---------------------------------

You sit at your desk, using the useless files as a makeshift fan. The Colombian heat has not been kind to any of you in the office today. It also didn’t help that he had been staring you down for the majority of the day. 

Javier couldn’t take his eyes off you. He was like a moth to a very, sweaty but beautiful flame. He watched with such awe as you fanned yourself with files that are useless to your investigation with Escobar. 

Things didn’t end well between you both. 

There were underlining problems with Javi’s commitment issues, you knew this before getting involved with him. You really tired to not be another notch in his beat. But my lord, that man is irresistible. It only took 4 days for him to have his way with you. 

4 days of little flirtatious winks here and there. 4 days of wearing extremely tight pants just so you would look at his ass. Even though they made him the most uncomfortable he’s ever been, he didn't care. He wanted you, and he was willing to go to circulation-cutting lengths to have you. 

Aside from the blood cutting off in his legs and a few remarks from his partner Steve, it was nothing. He’d done much worse for girls with much less beauty than you. But was it all worth it?

Why did he make a fool out of himself for someone that just threw him away like a piece of trash? He asks himself this question everyday since you left him standing alone in his apartment. He thought about running after you and demanding to know why you were doing this to him. Why after him opening up to you about his past, would you just run out when things got a little tough?

“Will you just go over and talk to her Pena?” Javi was snapped out of the thoughs running around in his head. His blonde haired partner decided to but in on his private life once again. 

Javier wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and grunted. “Will you just shut the fuck up Murphy. I don’t need to have this conversation with you again.” He certainly didn’t want to even think about you, never mind talk to his loved up partner about how shitty his love life had been. 

Steve sighed. “I hate seeing you two like this Pena. You two were so goo-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Javi stood up from his chair. 

Steve had pissed him off too much over the last two weeks. Constantly pestering him to go over and speak to you. Just ask you the simple question of why? 

But, Javier Pena was the most stubborn man in the whole of Colombia.

He was glad Steve pissed him off so much. He finally had an excuse to leave the office and not waste another look at you. He needed to bury himself deep in something. Drink or whores. Or her. 

He shook that last thought away and went to the bathroom to splash some water over his face. It calmed him down, but he wish he stayed in there longer. His fists clenched and his eyes were seeing red. 

He saw you, and your new boyfriend of three weeks, Marizio from intelligence, leaning over your desk and whispering something in your ear. 

That used to be him. He was the one that would whisper all the dirty things he’d want to do to you while you were working. He was the one that would make you blush like that. Make you feel things you’ve never felt before in your life. 

Javier couldn’t move. He was like stone, his eyes locked on the small boy leaning on your desk. 

You laughed and held onto Marizio’s shoulder as you stood up. You were done with work for the weekend, hoping to leave the troubles of the DEA behind and enjoy a relaxing weekend with your new boyfriend. 

The honeymoon stage was in full swing. You never wanted to come out of it with Maritzio. If only it could stay like this forever. It’s only been a few weeks since he first asked you out, but you’re glad he did. 

You were a nervous wreck on your first date. You hadn’t been out with another man since him. But Maritzio wasn’t like him. 

He was kind, sweet and caring. 

He never treated you in a harsh way like someone else did. After your first date, he walked you back to your apartment complex and gave you a light kiss on the cheek goodnight. 

You were used to the night ending in yours or his bed, screaming each others names until you lost your voices. But with Maritzio, he was a gentleman. 

So when the time came around for his birthday, you thought he would decline the invitation from Steve to go to their favourite bar after work. And to your surprise, he said yes. 

If Steve was going to be there, you knew he was going to be there. Any mention of alcohol he was always going to be there. 

Maritzio knew about your past relationship struggles. He didn’t know exactly who with, but he knew it was someone within the DEA. He was very calm about it, not in the slightest concerned about anything happening while you were together. 

A few days after your second date, you got very drunk and called Maritzio. You meant to dial someone else's number to help you with the pain of heartbreak, but he was the one that broke it. So when Maritzio came rushing over, you spilled your guts. 

You told him how the last relationship you were in, you were completely in love with a person who wasn’t real. They were a mask. And behind the mask was a harsh monster. That monster came out the longer you two were together. You’d put up with the monster for so long, it got too much, so you left. 

Maritzio held you for the rest of the night, and offered to sleep on the couch so you wouldn’t be alone. This was one of the best nights sleep you had since you left him.

You and Martizio decided to go to the bar straight after work, to start the celebrations early. A few of the other agents had the same idea. It was about two hours before anyone else arrived, and you were pretty hammered. 

You and two other agents were engrossed in conversation when a large cheer erupted from the bar. 

Murphy and he walked into the bar with cases of beers and balloons. 

Maritzio headed over to thank them. Murphy pulled him in for a hug, but Pena gave him a clipped nod and made a dart for the bar. 

You mingled some more and decided on another drink. You needed to have as much as possible if you were to be in a different environment other than work with HIM. 

You ordered 2 shots of Tequila and a jack and coke. Once your drinks were ready, you took the two shots one after the other and headed to your seat.

“Tequila makes you sick y’know.” Pena muttered while drinking the last of his whiskey. 

Sober you, would just ignore him. Sober you. would walk over to your caring boyfriend and spend time with him. 

Sober you wouldn’t be stupid. 

But sober you, is locked in a cage and drunk you has swallowed the key. 

You spun dramatically on your heel, and look Javier in the eyes for the first time in what feels like forever.

“It doesn’t actually make me sick anymore. It makes me more fun.” You giggled, taking your seat back at the bar and ordering another two shots. 

“Bebita, the only thing that makes you more fun is water.” He chuckled, ordering a bottle of water. 

“Hey!” You pointed a finger at him as serious as you could. Your finger couldn’t exactly stay on Pena, but you put all your focus into it. “Don’t use Spanish on me. You k-know I don’t know t-those funky words.” Hiccups were the worst for you when you were drunk. 

Javi’s eyes softened, just loving the sound of your voice. He somehow forgot what it sounded like. And now he remembers, it sounds like sweet honey. 

“Matitzio i-is teaching me! So s-say that word to me again in t-three months and I’ll know it all!” You cheered, sliding one of the shots over to Javier to take with you. 

Javier’s eyes hardened at the mention of his name. He didn’t want to hear another mans name come out of your lips, other than his. 

He hated Tequila, but if this is the only way for you to keep talking to him, he will do this. 

You both took the shot. Javier’s face creased with disgust at the liquid. You laughed at his expression. He had a small droplet of Tequila in the corner of his mouth. Out of habit, you leaned over and swiped your thumb over the bead. 

You froze when you realised what you were doing, and so did he. 

You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t even be near him. 

Sober you had broken free from her cage, and she was ready to run. “I u-uh, need to go to the bathroom.” You stuttered, carefully jumping from the barstool and making a quick escape to the bathroom. 

How could you be so stupid! You knew what talking to him would lead to! You are happy with Javier! You mean Maritzio!

Even your brain was thinking of him. This needed to stop. 

You run quickly into the bathroom, the Tequila finally hitting you. It feels like hours but you make it to the bathroom, hurling up the contents of your stomach. 

“Y/n? Are you in there?” You hear Javier banging on the door for the ladies bathroom. 

“Go away” you mutter loud enough so he could hear you. “I don’t want to see you,”

A few seconds go by and nothing. You continue to be sick, and feel someone holding your hair back. 

This, this is why you should not have Tequila. But you just couldn’t help yourself. It’s the only drink that makes you the drunkest, the quickest. You skip past all of the other stages, like the awkward dancing stage, the overly loud and wants to talk to everyone stage, and jump straight to the confident & sassy stage. But, the quicker you get to that stage, the big final stages edges closer than you want. The vomiting in the bathroom and feeling violently ill stage. Everybody wishes that stage did not exist. 

“It’s okay baby, let it all out.” A soft voice sooths your nerves and a hand rubs small circles on your back, coxing you to get everything out. “Shhhh, I’m here. I did tell you that Tequila makes you throw up.” The voice chuckles at the end, making you very aware who is holding you. 

You slowly sit up from the floor and walk out from the enclosed stall. Your head is spinning at a million miles an hour. Why did he follow you? 

You don’t look at Javier. You can’t. There’s too much pain, too much history between you. You will never be able to recover from him. Never be able to fully move on. 

“You need to stop this. You need to leave me alone.” You whisper, the liquid courage taking a step back. 

“I was not going to leave you to choke on your own vomit Y/n. I’m a lot of things, but letting you suffer alone? Nah, that’s not something I’m ok with.” He huffs, pacing the bathroom area. 

“Oh, that’s not something you’re ok with? Right, well I’m just slightly confused.”

“How’s that?” He asks, raising his brows. 

“Well I mean, you’re very ok with causing me pain and suffer the last time I checked.” Liquid courage is back and ready to put up a fight. 

You cross your arms and lean against the wall near the door. Keeping as much difference between you as possible. This fight has been brewing inside the both of you since the day you both parted ways. 

The huffs and puffs in the office when you both got assigned to the same case. The clear protest from Pena when the ambassador gave you praise for the missions and he got little. The looks of lust and love when the other one of you wasn’t looking. 

It needed to all end here. It was now or never. 

“I think it’s the other way around Bebita.” Javier sighed, leaning one leg behind him and balancing himself on the wall in front of you. “You were the one that left me to suffer alone in my apartment.” 

“I cannot believe you are bringing this up now!” You shout, loud enough to get some attention from the party goers. But you don’t care. 

“When else was I supposed to bring it up huh? I’m sorry did I miss our regularly scheduled morning feelings meetings!” He holds his hands to his mouth. “Oh my god I can’t believe I missed those! I’ll have to get Steve to fill me in later!” The sarcasm was dripping from his mouth, clearly taking this whole conversation as a joke. 

“Fuck you Pena.” That’s all you could say. He was always like this. Never took anything seriously, only cared about his job and beer. 

You push yourself off the wall and reach for the door handle. Javier grabs your waist and spins you, pushing you back up against the wall again. “You do not get to walk out on me again.” Your foreheads almost touch. If you leaned in, your lips would be touching. 

You breathe in and take in his scent. Beer and nicotine is the smell you’ve been craving the most. Maritzio smells like lavender. Which is not a bad thing at all. You actually like the smell of Lavender. But what you miss is the smell of Javier. You miss everything about him. 

“I can’t do this Javi.” You squeak. “I’m with Marit-”

“Please don’t say his name. I only want you to say my name.” 

His words shock you. “I don’t want to hurt him Javi. Please.”

He takes a small step forward, closing the gap between your chests. The tension is thick in the air, just gasping for some relief. 

“But you want to hurt me baby? Do you want to put me through all that pain again?” he whispers, moving his head to rest in the crook of your neck. 

“I never intended to hurt you Javi, but you hurt me by not being there. He is there for me. You weren’t.” You sigh. 

He plants faint kisses on your neck which send tingles into places that haven’t tingled for a while. You close your eyes and rest your head against the wall, allowing him more access. He moves from your neck up to the shell of your ear. 

“But I will be.” He whispers, the pain clear in his voice. “I will be there for you until you want me. And even if you don't want me baby, I will be waiting until you do. These last few months have been the worst of my life. I have made the biggest mistake of my life by choosing work over you my sweat girl. I promise, if you leave that boy and give me another chance, I will promise to love you until the end of time.”

A tear runs from your eyes and Javi is quick to wipe them away. “Please don’t cry baby. I don’t want to upset you, again.” He pouts, not knowing how else to fix the situation. 

“Javi, that’s all I’ve ever wanted you to say. Just that you acknowledge that I’m here and that you have something else in your life other than work. I hated myself when I left you, but I’m glad I did. Because if Id’ve stayed, you would not be standing here telling me all of this.” You said, looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like years. 

“Well, we wouldn’t be standing in a bathroom you just threw your guts up in because you drank too much tequila.” He rolls his eyes and tuts. 

You lean forward and shove him back playfully, earning a cheeky grin from him. 

“You’re right. If you didn’t leave me, I wouldn’t have realise how special you are Mi Amore. And I want to be yours again, if you’ll have me.” His big brown doe eyes look softly into yours. 

Another tear slips from your eyes, but this time, they're tears of joy. “And I want to be your-” He swoops you up in his arms and plants peck and peck all over your face. You giggle until he puts you down. 

“I promise to cherish you until the end of time my angel. I will always love you.” 

#javierpena #javier pena x y/n #pedro pascal #narocs

[vinnics]

#𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.                    danny   ramirez.       cis-man.       he/him.       29.          ⎯⎯⎯⎯          was   that   𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄   “𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄”   𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐎   walking   through   the   doors   of   amorelux   ?       i   heard   he   just   moved   in   to   𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓   𝟗𝟎𝟐   from   𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐈,    𝐅𝐋   and   work   as   a   𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐒-𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐅.       he   seems   𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃-𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃   &   ����𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄,    but   don't   get   on   his   bad   side   !       he   can   be   𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐋-𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃   &   𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓   which   makes   sense   since   he's   a   𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒.       you   know   he's   home   when   you   see   a  flash   of   𝑑𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑑   𝑏𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒   𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑙𝑠,    𝑛𝑖𝑘𝑒   𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑠   𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔   𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ   𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑦𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟   𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑠,    𝑡ℎ𝑒   𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙   𝑜𝑓   ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒   𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒   𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒   𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑝   𝑐𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑒𝑠,    𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔   𝑎   𝑠𝑘𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑏𝑜𝑎𝑟𝑑   𝑡𝑜   𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘.

i'm keeping it short and sweet, don't @ me.

━━   𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂   𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

full   name:   vicente   javier   serrano.

nickname(s):   vinnie.

age:   twenty-nine.  

birthday:   february 20, 1993.

zodiac   sign:   pisces.

gender:   cis-male.

pronouns:   he/him.

birthplace:   santa   fé,    nm.

ethnicity:   colombian,    mexican.

nationality:   american.

occupation:   sous-chef.

━━   𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

vicente   was   born  into   a   large,   but   loving   family   in   santa   fe,    new   mexico.    his  family   bounced   around   for   the   first   fifteen   years   of   his   life   before   settling   down   in   miami.       there,    he   got   a   job   as   a   waiter   for   a   restaurant   and   slowly   became   involved   with   the   culinary   arts.

after   graduating   from   high   school,    he   continued   working   in   the   restaurant   in   order   to   save   up   tuition   money.       his   parents   still   had   three   children   to   provide   for   so   unfortunately,    they   weren't   able   to   provide   financial   help   to   him.

he   enrolled   in   a   culinary   school   when   he   heard   the   owner   of   the   restaurant   mention   wanting   to   open   another   restaurant   and   looking   for   a   chef. 

he   didn't   get   the   job,   but   ended   up   finishing   culinary   school   anyways.

still,   with   a   culinary   diploma,   the   owner   gave   him   a   chance   and   hired   him   as   a   commis   chef   in   the   new   restaurant.

with   time,    he   climbs   the   ranks,    and   other   restaurants   take   interest   in   him.          soon   he's   asked   to   run   the   kitchen   of   a   renowned   restaurant   in   seattle,   which   he   promptly   accepts.

but   being   a   head   chef   and   at   the   top   of   the   kitchen   tree   is   rather   demanding   and   exhausting,   and   he   struggles.       he's   quickly   demoted   to   sous-chef   and   is   struggling   to   keep   that   job   as   it   is.

━━   𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘.

     ✔     gentle,    soft-spoken,    courteous,    kind-hearted,    peaceful.

     ✘     quiet,    dull-witted,    finicky,    overwrought,    undemonstrative.

━━   𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

kinda   has   a   really   soft   voice,   and   if   ppl   say   "can   you   speak  a   little  louder?"  it   makes   him   want   to   die

is   a   lil���   shy   and   usually   waits   for   u   to   approach   him   :/

calls   his   mom   every   sunday   and   talks   with   her   for   hours,    no   matter   what   the   time   difference   is

still   lives   with   his   ex  fiancee   :))))

cat   !!!!       lover   !!!!       owns  white  siberian  kitten  called  oreo

#ahq:intro

[madamebaggio]

How about a Sansa/Merlin (Kingsman) one? Maybe relaxing at home after a successful mission? Maybe they're cooking or ordered out on their way home? Everything else up to you. Thank you!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Notes: Oh I love me some Merlin!

I hope you like it!

***

“Here. Put it on your shoulder.”

Merlin accepted the ice pack Sansa passed him and put it on his left shoulder. “Thank you, love.” He sighed. He opened his eyes to see her putting food on the table. “I should help you.” He was already moving to get up.

“No.” Sansa put a hand on his other shoulder to make him stay put. “You’re in more pain than I am. Stay there.”

“It’s not a competition.” He grunted.

“It is, when you’re an old man.” She teased, before dropping a kiss to his lips.

He growled playfully at her, making her laugh despite her exhaustion.

It had been a hellish mission. They were double crossed, there were explosions, many bullets and Sansa’s favorite jacket had been ruined.

A terrible night all around.

So, on the way back home, they stopped to get food at their favorite place and brought it home. The owner of the restaurant -a cheery Italian man by the name of Gianni -didn’t even ask what happened anymore. Sansa believed he thought they were criminals of some kind, since they were generally hurt when they stopped by.

But he never asked questions and everything he cooked was to die for.

“Would you like some wine?” She offered.

“God, no. Whisky, please. Lots of it.”

Sansa laughed as she grabbed a bottle and served them both a healthy amount of the drink. Probably not what they should be taking -all things considered -but some nights -and some missions -demanded some whisky.

They ate and drank together in companionable and exhausted silence. Normally they’d be talking about anything at all -politics, football, that Colombian soap opera that Merlin pretended he didn’t like -but not that night.

They ate until the plates were clean, and Lady gave up on them and went to her own bed by the fireplace.

“I’ll take these to the kitchen.” Sansa said as she stood up.

“No, wait a minute.” Merlin asked. “Come here.”

Sansa gave him a bemused look, but came closer. Merlin pushed his chair back, so he could pull Sansa right between his open legs. Then he rested his head against her stomach.

“Hey.” Sansa said softly, her hands going to his head, gently petting him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like missions like this.” He told her.

“Messy?”

“Dangerous. It drives me spare not knowing if you’ll be safe or not.” He confessed.

“Oh love…” She made him raise his face so she could look into his eyes. “I don’t like that as well, but this is who we are.” She cupped his serious face between her hands. “And I’ll always do my best to come home to you.”

#madame baggio #crackship #crossover #crossover pairings #request #Kingsman #game of thrones #sansa stark #merlin #sansa x merlin

[themountainsays]

So does Pepa's family not exist in this new AU or do they like live somewhere else since it keeps Camilo from causing problems with Mirabel's plot but allows Isabela to text and talk to her best friend and cousins Dolores when she needs to. Also so does Lusia not exist or is she say going to uni somewhere maybe were Pepa lives so Isabela is the only one to take care Mirabel. And I assume Abuela is dead you no magic food old given her age good chance she smoked so passed away and not having her around not necessarily dead is better for Isabela since Julieta and Agustin strike me as less controling and would be fine to have a gay daughter or two or three and would be open to it. (There was this incorrect quote I saw a while back like Isabela: Mom I'm gay. Julieta: About time you noticed. Though she would be like sweetie I already knew and it's okay I'll love you no matter what.) Also now that my brain is working what do Agustin and Julieta do like I can sss Julieta as either chef/baker or Doctor and or Nurse depends which is more important her healing or food I am inclined to nurse since they do most of the work I see her doing and Agustin in some office job. Damn why is my brain now laser focused on this I have homework, a pile of books and tv and a fanfic I need to try and write I don't need something else to distract me.

-RM

Ahhh RM study is important dw we'll be here w the inc3st waiting for you ;-; but yeah ok I think they're all still alive, all living in the same house for the past 50 years just like in canon, only they probably live in the outskirts of a big city, possibly Bogotá, like in a nice-ish middle class neighborhood, with a big ass house with space for everyone, but they all mosly work and study near the center of the city, where it's a lot more urban. Idk I'm totally inspiring this in my early childhood living a nice-ish area in Zona Sur of el Conurbano Bonaerense, I went to school for a year in Capital for some reason so it was like a two hour drive to school every day, and there are a lot of people who live in el Conurbano but work and study in Capital soooo likeeeee idk how it's like in Bogotá, idk shit about Bogotá, but this is kinda what I imagine. I assume that, being the capital of the country, Bogotá must have a bunch of universities. I'm checking out the iberoamerican universities rankings to see what the girls' best options would be and apparently la nacho is ranked 14 according to the QS iberoamerican uni ranking, idk what la nacho is like but sure let's say they all study in la nacho, idk what that doesn't matter. I keep finding conflicting info on whether or not university education is free over there??? If any colombian followers/mutuals are reading this please tell me what's up (blink twice if you need help) and if la nacho is cool or nah. But anyway the point is that yes they all live in the same city, same house, all the girls study in the same uni (different careers tho, idk which), and yes Camilo indeed is around and Mirabel works very hard to keep him quiet. Either he's in on the joke, she's blackmailing him, bribing him, desperately keeping the secret from him (that she's telling all her classmates that she has a hot older girlfriend in uni) or they go to different schools, which is totally possible if they're looking for different orientations, or if, say, one school is more convenient for one family and another for the other because it's eaier to drop off and pick up the kids on their way to and back from work etc etc. I imagine they all take care of Mirabel in one way or another, but Isabela is usually the one burdened with the responsability because she's the oldest, and I assume she just happens to have more time? Luisa is totally working while she studies, and maybe Dolores is just taking more demanding classes? Or her classes have a different schedule and Isabela's juuuuuuust happen to match up with Mirabel's schedule this quarter so she's the one on babysitting duty. She's totally blackmailing Dolores into making some time and taking the saturday night classes next quarter tho, no way she's doing this alone ever again.

I can see Juli as a nurse! And Agustín has office employee vibes but I can also see him as a piano teacher at some secondary school with a musical and visual arts orientation. Speaking of arts, Pepa is a bit hard but I can see her as a dance teacher? Same as Félix. Would be very cute if they met because they were teaching at the same place and they fell in love etc and their students totally watched the whole love story from the front seats uwu. Bruno is a cryptocurrency and NFT investor who hasn't left his room since age 35. Just kidding, he may or may not have an esoteric shop which he inherited from his mother, performing amarres, reading your future, magically bringing money your way, being super catholic but in a cool witchy way, man i should ask my friends who are into this stuff about it for ideas.

Speaking of, Abuela is very much alive in this AU, mostly because I think it would be funny if she thought Isabela's homosexuality is part of the great gringo conspiracy to weaken and diminish the latin american population so they can colonize us, which is something old people who hate gringos say, it's kinda funny asdkjndjdsjkj she's like "this yankee internet imperialism trend again 🙄🙄🙄" and juli will be like "it's ok mom go to sleep".

#lmao looking up info about colombian unis and i keep finding out about this leftist president winning the elections #i wanna say i'm happy but after the b0ric fiasco i'm sus ;-; gonn go read a few newspapers see whats up #madrigalcest #shipcest #isamira #what do i call this one #de esos que llaman embriones au #<--- it's a reference to a parody of a song #about a woman who likes older men #it goes like ''a ella le gustan mayores de esos q llaman señores'' #which means ''she likes older men those whom they call sir'' #and the parody is about a woman who likes younger guys so it's like #''a ella le gustan menores de esos que llaman embriones'' #which means ''she likes minors those whom they call embryos'' #and i totally imagine isabela's friends singing that to her #i mean dumb kids will sing that to each other when a friend dates someone one (1) year younger than them #so like it's established as a dumb joke #i promise it's not that creepy #most of the time

[aggieharkness]

Hay que encontrar su propio futuro

Summary: She never meant to hurt her family once more, she had only expected to wake up with a hangover not with someone beside her that was about to turn her entire life upside down. She never thought she would get a chance at a new life with someone so different and at the same time so alike. Can they really find a future together?

(The title has been changed, it used to be Shame on whoever invented Tequila but as the story progressed it didn't feel like the right choice anymore so I changed it.)

a/n:  Hello!! This chapter is much lighter then the others, let's give Alma a short break, so it's just bonding with some of her family. Bruno will come soon and don't worry we will talk about Mariano, just not here. I hope you like it and leave any comments if you would like me to add something to the story :) I'm Spanish so I used expressions from my own language. I'm afraid I don't know Colombian ones so I had to work with the ones that I know. If there are any Colombians out there that would prefer for me to change what I have written I would very gladly do it, but even so, I hope you like the ones I have used. 

warnings: none for this one. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Hay que encontrar su propio futuro

Before dinner a few words had been shared about what had happened after Dolores and Alma had returned. Rosa had been mad, which was to be expected, both at her grandson and her best friend, I mean, you don’t get to hear everyday that the woman who changed his nappies was now playing him and his private regions like a child with a new toy. She had debated for several minutes whether to faint or start throwing things at Mariano, in the end she had chosen the second option and well, she didn’t have vases any more and her favourite cucharón had a dent but it was all worth it. Her grandson was grounded for the rest of his life and beyond; he couldn’t go anywhere near Alma and she had asked Dolores to tell her abuela that they wouldn’t be playing cards or having coffee any more. The girl had been stunned to see that they hadn’t been kidding when talking about Rosa’s aim, she should go to the olympic games honestly. And so after having smuggled some arepas so he could take care of the couple of bruises he had from the cucharon Dolores had left an upset Rosa who she had heard sniffling alone in her house. She had wanted to say something to the woman but it would be of no use, there wasn’t a single thing she could do to change what had happened. She had refrained from telling Alma exactly the words Rosa had used for her, no need to upset her abuela even more, they had been best friends since forever and if Dolores told her all the names she had been called there would be no room for reconciliation, Alma didn’t take lightly when people insulted her.

Sitting at the dinner table there was some tension lingering in the air but nothing that could be considered stifling or uncomfortable, it was just there, it had been acknowledged that was it. Pepa seemed slightly lighter in her walk when she had first entered the kitchen and had even kissed her mother on the cheek leaving both her siblings with their mouth hanging open, they couldn’t even remember when the last time they had seen that had been, maybe on her wedding day? No, Alma had been too busy trying to calm the hurricane and chasing Bruno demanding to know what had happened; he had escaped her grasp only because she wasn’t about to climb all those damned stairs, gracias al señor there weren’t any in his new room. Julieta and Pepa had talked briefly, the redhead filling her sister in certain news that Alma had told her during the argument, including the bit of their mother not having been anywhere near the town during that first scare with Mirabel because she was making sure their home was safe even if it had meant risking her life. Poor Julieta had broken down at hearing those words, after all she had decided the second time not to send anyone to fetch her mother, she had kept her in the dark about it for years but Alma had been no better. So many secrets that even after the fall and reconstruction of casita hadn’t yet been told.

Tonight the places around the dinner table had changed and instead of having Alma at the head both her daughters had dragged her towards one of the sides and sat beside her leaving poor Bruno having to sit in front of them with Dolores beside him. Either they were cornering her to give her a third degree questionnaire or they just wanted to be close to her. Felix had returned just a few hours after Dolores had come back from Mariano’s place because he hadn’t had the heart to say no to his little boy when he had asked his papá to go with him to the jungle to look for animals. They had taken a wrong turn after only thirty minute in the woods and instead of heading towards the lake they had ended up in the middle of nowhere, but Felix wouldn’t accept the fact that they had got lost and Parce had to guide them out, he still had his pride. When he first started dating Pepa he had told her just how good he was with maps which she knew was a lie; on their second date they had taken a shortcut to get to Casita and ended up on the other side of the village with no food or water at four in the afternoon in August. Now he was sitting next to Agustín with Antonio on his lap chatting lightly oblivious to everything that had happened. Just chilling. In Alma’s usual spot now sat Mirabel with Isa and Luisa on each of her sides and Camilo at the other end in between her brother and mother. Dinner was… nice, not completely normal, Luisa would glance once or twice every few minutes at her abuela as if she wanted to say something but never uttered a single word, just continued eating her tamal. Something was wrong with her and Alma intended to find out what it was, if it was her fault she wanted to apologise and make it better, if not she needed to be there for her nieta. The food was exquisite, as always, and soon empty plates were placed on the sink with Camilo on washing duty today, Agustin, Bruno and Felix retiring to the living room to discuss last saturday's football match (Santa Fe - Deportivo Pereira, what a match) that they had heard on the radio; that magnificent contraption had been brought to the Encanto just a few months after the slit in the mountain had opened and after debating whether or not to get one, Alma was rather exceptical about getting one, they had managed to convince her that it would do her some good to listen to some music or radionovelas; most days now you could find it being moved from the kitchen to the living room to the bathroom and maybe even the garden. It sat silent on the counter now, the ladies left in the kitchen still sitting on their chairs as Antonio went to his room to play with his tios rats in their new playpen that in the end Bruno had to build with the help of Camilo instead. At least nothing had exploded and no hands had ended up being glued to the floor, only fingers stuck together, Bruno’s to be exact, but it was fine, they were free now.

Isa and Dolores looked at each other with raised eyebrows, moving lips and eyes towards the others that were left on the table, mischievous and contagious smiles spreading quickly over their faces soon reaching Pepa. Of course Alma picked up on all this and watched from the corner of her eyes how one by one Luisa, Mirabel and Julieta joined the others in whatever silent conversation they were having and to which they had obviously forgotten to add Alma in. They were planning something and she wasn’t sure she felt up to it, but a small sparkle of curiosity had lightened in her chest and she couldn’t help but wonder what had all of them so worked up. Suddenly her eldest nietas stood up and conveniently informed them that they were very tired and were going to bed; Alma didn't believe a single word, she hadn’t been born yesterday, but decided to just bid them goodnight and hope to heaven above that they wouldn’t cause any trouble during the night. As they rushed out of the kitchen a trail of tulips and daffodils followed the girls into Isabela’s room betraying the girls' excited state. She wasn’t sweeping that in the morning. Mirabel and Luisa muttered just a couple of minutes later that they had something to do in Luisa’s room, leaving at a slow pace just chatting about nonsense to try and give the impression that everything was fine, even though Luisa’s eye twitching gave them away no one said a thing. Looking back from the doorway towards the table she saw Camilo just staring with raised eyebrows and a confused look, a half cleaned pot in his hands and soap and water on his brand new yellow apron, courtesy of Agustin’s gifted tailor hands. Seeing that not even her troublemaker nieto was in on this whole thing worried Alma, her girls were always so well behaved but when they decided to do something it could go soooo wrong and be even worse than Camilo’s pranks. Isabela threw a cactus at Osvaldo’s face, that says it all.

Before her daughters decided on leaving all hurriedly to do God knows what Alma stood up and told them she was going to bed, that it had been a very tiring day and she only wished to rest. At her words both women looked at each other as if their plan was falling apart and tried to convince her to stay, but she wouldn’t have it. After assuring them that she would spend the day with both of them tomorrow she left the kitchen, crossed the courtyard and went upstairs. Whatever they had planned she was starting to suspect involved her and she didn’t know if she wanted to be part of it, but the corridor was empty when she got there, her room just a few feet away her door glowing softly casting golden shadows over the railing. On her way to it two strong arms suddenly wrapped themselves around her waist and lifted her off the floor, a surprised scream escaping her lips just as she was walking past Dolores’ room.

-¡Luisa! ¡¿Qué estás haciendo?! Put me down this instant.

-Sorry abuela, but I’ve been told to take you to Isa’s room. It’s a task and I complete tasks.

-You could have asked me to go there instead of almost giving me a heart attack! Bajame Luisa!

-Sorry, no can do.

So this did involve her, good, yeah, great. Fighting against her suprestrong granddaughter was futile, the girl simply placed her more comfortable in her arms so as not to accidentally hurt her and kept walking towards Isabela’s room. She would have asked her what she was doing in her cousin’s room if it weren’t for the very obvious reason that she had been hiding there to catch her while she was on her way to her room. She asked a couple more times to be let down but her words fell on deaf ears and so she just simply let her carry her like a sack of potatoes. Walking past Pepa’s, her own room and Julieta's, she noticed that both her daughters were following them with giddy smiles and whispered words. Oh boy, they were soooo grounded after this. Reaching the flower decorated door Dolores who had been standing in the shadows with Mirabel opened it and let Luisa go in first, the rest of the ladies following. Pillows, mattresses and blankets had been distributed all over the flower covered floor along with big suitcases and fabrics. With a nod from Isa her sister left their abuela gently on the floor, the woman quickly placing her hands on her hips and turning to look at them all.

-What do you think you are doing?

-Sorry abuela, Isa and Dolores asked me to bring you and I didn’t think of just simply asking you. I didn’t hurt you did I?

-Of course not, but you should have told me. This time I screamed but the next I might accidentally hit you and I don't want to. You could have given me a heart attack sneaking up like that.

-I promise I won’t do it again abuela, I swear. Solo… escucha.

Crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow she waited for someone to speak. Pepa nodded and quickly jumped in front of her mother waving her hands excitedly while Julieta helped her youngest daughter carry trays with snacks to the small coffee table they had brought from downstairs. In the living room the men were using random boxes to put their coffee and water on, no idea where their table was.

-You see mamá, we haven’t really sat down to talk, to just chat and have a girls night since we were little and given the very complicated day we’ve all had we wanted to just spend time together, with you. There’s so much we don’t know about you and we want to see, we want to learn who you really are. Qué dices, ¿te apuntas?

A sleepover, they had planned a sleepover for her. After the conversations they had had during the day she had feared they wouldn’t want to be around her for a while and she wouldn't have complained but them doing this for her, to get to know her aside from the role of mother, abuela and matriarch, to find out who Alma was… It warmed her heart knowing that even through it all they were still beside her and didn’t hold a grudge against her in the slightest. A heavy weight was lifted off her shoulders, one that she hadn’t noticed had been there in the first place, a few stray tears making their way down her cheeks but the smile that now graced her lips didn’t falter in the slightest. Her family was going nowhere. Words couldn’t explain how she felt and she was not very sure they would come out right now so she simply nodded, taking her daughter’s hands in hers, letting her guide her towards one of the makeshift couches. Who needs sleep anyway. Next to her Mirabel was talking with her eldest sister, she had even laughed a couple of times and Alma couldn’t remember seeing them so happy together since they were children but it made her smile knowing that things were improving between them, that they were building up a new relationship basically from scratch. She didn’t mind even if they didn’t utter a word to her, just being here made her happy enough if her family was happy as well.

-Bueno abuela, a little birdy told me that you were thinking of doing some… changes? - changes, what chang… Ohhh, so that’s all this was about. Of course Pepa must have told Julieta of her intentions of giving their mother a makeover and she had told Isabela who then just simply spoke to Luisa and Mirabel. They had possibly tried to tell Dolores but the girl already knew and they just simply formed some sort of plan to do it. No wonder Isabela was giving her such gleeful eyes.

-I didn’t say a thing. Pepa made the choice for me, didn’t you, cielo?

-You didn’t disagree. I honestly think you can do with a big change.

-So what If I said no, that I’m quite alright like this?

-We wouldn't believe it for a minute. You’ve been eyeing those pale pinks and fucsias fabrics down at the shop, we’ve even seen you reading the new catalogues. You want this as much as we do. ¿Por fis mamá?

-Why are you so determined on doing this? You could let Isabela give you a makeover instead of me.

-But I don’t want one. Please mamá, we’ve all become new people but you are still stuck in the past. We know that changing one's hair or clothes doesn't automatically make us a whole new person but it's a start. Let us do this for you.

Stuck in the past; she’s been there a whole entire life. Little details were different in her family, everyone had noticed how Julieta would often wear her hair down instead of up and would let her daughter's brush it and put flowers in it, just like when they were little; Pepa had changed her clothes and much to Alma’s first surprise now owned several pairs of pants that the village disapproved of but she hadn’t cared. Little things that others wouldn’t have paid any kind of attention to but to her family they were huge steps towards a better life. She had often wondered how it would feel to have skirts with beautiful patterns like Mirabel’s, to purchase linen and velvet and to have gorgeous outfits not just comfortable ones. The opportunity was standing in front of her wearing yellow and seemed far more excited than Alma herself.

-Alright. Do what you will. Just don’t cut my hair nor dye it pink or blue, please.

-We would never do something like that!

-Isabela has green hair, try again Pepa.

-Well we don’t plan on doing that to you, so relax and let the professionals do their job. - they were hardly even amateurs but she wouldn’t tell them that and risk getting in an argument that she had no desire for. Even if they shaved her head and gave her nightgowns to wear for the rest of her life she would indulge them. Anything to keep those smiles on their faces.

-What are you going to start with?

-Gossip. - of course, Dolores’ favourite sport and main hobby. - I’ve been dying to tell you all this and there’s no better moment than right now. Remember Oscar, señora Hernandez 's son.

-The one who wants to be a lawyer like his late father?

-That one, tía. Well… We know he’s engaged to Verónica. Well he’s going out with Blanca behind her back.

-Noo. You went to school with her, I never took her for the sort of girl who would go out with engaged or married men. - after having helped Isa carry all her suitcases to the centre of the circle Dolores had flopped next to her mamá who was busy undoing her mother’s hairdo.

-So did I mamá, but that’s not all. There’s rumours that they are going to run away the day before the wedding, escape from the Encanto and settle down somewhere else.

-He would never do that, leave a nice girl such as Verónica alone at the altar… Ay Pepa, careful with the hairpins.

-Your hair’s knotted, what am I supposed to do? Make them vanish? Just stay still and I’ll try not to hurt you.

-Why am I letting you, the one with the unruly hair, take care of mine, I’ll never know.

-I inherited it from you, so don’t complain so much when it’s your own fault I have such awful hair.

-I didn’t have exactly a say in the matter when you were born. Anyway, who did you hear talking about Oscar?

-Blanca y Verónica.

-What?!

-Pepa! My head!

-They know about each other? - her youngest daughter had the attention span of a fly when she was faced with such juicy gossip; her hands were no longer in Alma’s hair and the brush that she had been about to take from Isa’s hand was still with the young girl. Better get someone else to finish the job.- Did someone tell them about each other?

-They figured it out themselves after he told Blanca that he couldn't go out with her a few evenings ago and then saw Verónica going into his house. She just connected the dots after that and when she was sure of everything Blanca faced Verónica and they both realised that he was using them.

-Then he’s not going to marry either of them? What an asshole.

-Isabela, language, why do I always have to remind you to watch what you say.

-Camilo is a bad influence.

-She’s got a point there abuela. But no, he’s not going to marry any of them because… he’s gay and has been trying to cover it for years. Luisa and abuela set an example for others in the village, but his parents still don’t approve and so he decided on causing a scandal that would allow him to leave and begin a new life.

-He’s going to leave them both humiliated here while he goes away?!

-No. The girls plan on setting him up to get back at him for what he’s done. Maybe I ought to do the same with Mariano.

-Dolores, rule number one, we don’t talk about Mariano.

We don’t talk about Mariano, was that the new motto for this family? She wasn’t going to stop them if they refused to talk about him, she was still quite angry at him and didn’t fancy the idea of having him as a topic of conversation when she felt so relaxed and happy. No need to ruin this wonderful night. The girl muttered a soft apology before falling quiet. Mirabel being the observant girl she was, took on the turn of emotions and quickly stood up and dragged her to the back of the room where several trunks were resting against the wall talking about how she needed her help with something that was a surprise. By then Isa had managed to brush Alma’s hair. It descended down her back in soft waves of silver and rich brunette stopping near the small of her back, soft to the touch but thick in volume.

-I was thinking that maybe we could change your style up a bit.

-No cutting it. Your abuelo loved my long hair and I don’t want to change that.

-That’s fine, I’ve got several ideas for long hair. We could do another sort of bun.

-We’ve seen her in that already, clavelito. Anything else? - with a tray in her hands Julieta sat in front of her mother. Luisa who had remained in the background was now opening a small unicorn bag as she sat next to her mamá. Inside it were various nail polishes, files and stickers that the big girl was placing neatly over the floor along with a bowl of warm water with lemon and a tiny bottle of orange oil.

-Well, we could do a half up-half down mamá but it would knot her hair a lot.

-Why don’t you just braid it? - Alma’s left hand was placed inside the bowl while Luisa watched her abuela’s hair with narrowed eyes. - I do it every morning. It’s easy and cute, maybe abuela would like it as well. What do you think? - the question this time wasn’t directed towards her sister but to her instead. A braid… She used to wear them when she was younger and had enjoyed them quite a bit.

-I think it’s a wonderful idea, mi luz.

-Great, I’ll do a simple braid and see what we can do to it.

-Do to it? Now Isabela, you said-

-I was talking about flowers and decorations, that’s all.

The hair was divided into three equal strand of hair, one with silver so glimmery it shone inside the room like a candle, one with tiny streaks of both tones so long that it reminded Isabela of strings of thread able to mend and create, and one with rich brunette locks that remained youthful and strong even after all the adversity. Three strands that resemble each of her children as careful hands braided one in between the others over and over again, never one of them outshining the others. All as one. Mira and Dolores hadn’t returned yet from the other side of the room but laughter and soft jokes reached Alma’s ears while she let her two other nietas pamper her. Both her hands had already been in the bowl which now was on the table next to the candy, Luisa drying her skin with the softest towel she had ever had the pleasure of feeling against her flesh. If this is what heaven felt like she would gladly spend the rest of her life sitting here among blankets and cushions listening to everyone chat about nonsense. This was the life she had pictured for herself once upon a time, and at last even if it was rather late, she was getting it.

-What do you think tía, tighter or looser?

-That’s quite nice, yes. Feeling fine mamá?

-Como nunca. What are you thinking so hard about Luisa?

-I don’t know whether to use this ivory colour or this light pink. Which do you think would look more natural?

-Either of them is good, but how about indigo?

-Indigo? - she wouldn’t wear it often but maybe she could indulge her nieta every once in a while and let her paint them her favourite colour. Ever since she was little everything had had to be indigo, her bedsheets, her clothes, even her toothbrush had to be that colour and Alma hadn't minded back then; as the girl grew she had forced her to wear less strong tones of it or to change it to white but the girl had still managed to wear something in that shade and in the end Alma had given up. There had never been any need for Luisa to change that bit of herself, but she had complied with what her grandmother had said. Si, she could indulge her nieta and let her paint her nails in her favourite colour to make up for that mistake, one more to add to the list of the many that she had dicovered in these few months.

-Indigo. Or don’t you like it anymore?

-No, I love it. I have this super beautiful tone that papá bought me the other day, it’s brand new, I haven’t even worn it but I’m sure it’ll look great on you. I used to have a doll with a dress in this colour that’s why papi bought this bottle for me, he said it reminded him of me when I was a baby. Of course I didn’t rem… Sorry, I’m rambling.

-I don’t mind. What couldn’t you remember, corazón?

One more point for Alma. Julieta had briefly locked eyes with her mouthing a grateful thank you as her hand brushed some short curls away from her daughter’s face. All that was needed was time; time to make up for all the things she had missed, all the things she had forgotten, all the things she had done wrong. Just time. She wasn’t the only one who was grateful for finally being able to see who her family was; Julieta had seen quite an improvement in her mother’s behaviour towards her children; Pepa had continuously talked about how much time Alma had been spending with her as well; Bruno was the only one who didn’t have to worry about children of his own but he was glad his mother was trying not to run away or hit any of his rats with a broom, so in a way she was also taking more care of his “children”. Everyone was trying and they all appreciated the effort. From the corner of her eye she could see a bright rainbow shining above her head with small drizzling clouds as she watched her sobrina talk incessantly about how she couldn’t remember the doll or the dress, just the beautiful shade that she had fallen in love with while she shook the bottle of polish in her hand before opening it.

-I’m done. I thought a looser braid would look better on her since abuela has a lot of hair. We could lose a couple of strands on the front and give it a more messy look if she wants to.

-But wouldn’t they get in the way?

-In the way of what abuela?

-My rounds in town. I always end up lending a helping hand in whatever tasks are halfway done and loose hair would bother me.

-Then change the rounds. You don’t have to help the carpenter finish a project or get more fabrics for the tailor, that’s their job. Seeing you helping build a house it’s natural but why do you have to bring the fish to the fisherman or kill the chicken for the butcher.

-We have to contribute to the community and since I don’t have a gift that’s the only way I have of helping.

-Nonsense mamá. - Julieta’s fingers were playing with Luisa’s red ribbon as she talked with her mother with a frown on her brow. - You run the town, and helping once in a while is fine, look at Pepa, she’s much happier now that she doesn’t have to water the crops everyday. You’ve done enough for the village, just let them figure out how to do things on their own. We might not always be here to help them and if they rely on us too much it’s going to be worse for them than for us. You want to wear those loose strands, do it. I wear my hair down, why can’t you?

Maybe she should listen, this whole thing of getting up going to town and working her ass off was getting on her nerves and her body was complaining more with each passing day. Like always Julieta was right. She should have stopped a long time ago but fear that they would lose what she had worked so hard for, that their miracle, Pedro’s sacrifice would go unappreciated had prevented her from doing it. There was nothing stopping her now, not anymore and she had been through too much with these people to let them rule her life until her last breath. She didn’t have to give her life to them anymore, she shouldn’t have given them all she had when in return all she had got was pain and constant anxiety of not being enough.

-I know I should, but how? It’s almost impossible for me to say no when someone asks me for help.

-I had the same problem, abuela, but I’ve been learning not to let them overwork me. We can relax and meditate together if it will help. Every morning I take a long bath and just sit down to listen to the world wake up, and in the afternoons I sit by the river and let the breeze take all my problems away. We can do that together if you want, walk around the forest, swim in the lake, do anything we want just to be one with the world and ourselves.

-I would love to do that with you bichito. I’ll let you teach me how to swim if you want to go to the lake and in exchange I’ll teach you how to knit. I think I remember a little girl who used to ask me when the unicorns would come so she could see one and become friends with them. Maybe she can still get a little woollen one to sleep with.

-I thought you would have forgotten, I was like three but I still love them and I… I really would like to learn how to make one. I know I won’t be as good as Mirabel’s-

-But it will be yours. - the nail polish was still wet but neither of them cared much, her hand cherishing Luisa’s cheek softly watching as the girl flashed her a genuine smile. Pepa couldn’t help it, she crawled towards her sister and held onto her trying so hard to keep her tears at bay but springing new rainbows out of iridescent clouds. From behind Isa saw the happiness her sister had been missing all this time, the chance to be with her abuela like when she was little before her gift had started ruling her entire world. Resting her head on her shoulder she looked at her beaming little sister.

-Yours will be great Lu, I tried to learn but was completely useless. All my stars would end up looking like balls and I never managed to finish the turtle Lola wanted so much. You’ve always been better at small things that require patience than me.

-See? All the things you do will be just as wonderful as Mirabel’s and Isabela’s.

-I’ve always wanted a pink and blue unicorn with a white horn. I used to draw them in my room after school. I’ll make one for each as soon as I’m capable of getting it right.

-I don’t doubt it. How about you let me paint your nails while Isa finishes my hair. I'm a bit rusty but I’ll try not to get too much polish on your skin.

If Julieta didn’t feel like she was about to burst of joy she would have let tears fall down her cheeks, but not to worry Pepa was doing it for her, fat hot salty tears that made her eyes sting, but she couldn’t and wouldn’t stop them or the soft rain that was falling over her and her sister along with bright rainbows that didn’t stop forming and vanishing with each passing second. They should have started having sleepovers years ago. After blowing at her nails a few times Alma took the bottle off the floor and took her nieta’s hand in hers tracing each nail with small short strokes to give her a clean and smooth colour.

Isa rearranged strands that didn’t quite fit with what she was aiming for until she was happy with the finishing result but she still felt like something was missing, like she needed something to top it all off. Looking up at her ceiling she saw her hanging vines and roses around her chandelier, a small little lightbulb lighting up inside her head. With a small discrete wave of her hand a small line of little green and pink hydrangea appeared on the back of Alma’s head, right at the beginning of the braid; that was quite an improvement but she still needed something to bring more colour and so a small blue Orchid made its way to one of the sides, a golden Calla Lily to the opposite one. Looking at her work from a foot away she realised that although they were small enough to be worn without the possibility of them bothering Alma each were unique and the colours belonged to the eldest members of the family. Maybe she could do something for the rest and so a little purple Ballon Flower sprouted in between the other two and in a zig zag pattern an orange Carnation was placed underneath the Orchid, a Blue Columbine blooming underneath the Lily, a Bleeding Heart in between with some droplets of water still sliding over the red petals. At the end of the braid a white camellia was tied to the string that held the entire hairdo together. Almost all the grandkids were taken care of, each with their unique gorgeous flower except for Mirabel. She couldn’t quite give her an outstanding plant for herself, after all she was a mix of everyone. A few minutes passed before an idea struck her and small little forget-me-nots sprouted all over the remaining bits of hair along with a couple of white daisies. They were small and light and didn’t make the braid look too crowded, simply unique, just like her abuela. Raising her eyebrows towards her mother and tía to get their attention both women crawled their way to Isa’s place to admire her work of art.

-It’s lovely mija.

-Si, le va a encantar.

-One for each and all together. I’m quite proud of myself to be honest. Abuela, I’m done, do you want to see it?

-Yes, please, I can smell the flowers so I guess you’ve done some of your magic on me. - picking up her hand mirror from her suitcase she handed it to her before diving back into it to look for her bigger mirror. After shoving some brushed out of the case and handing some of her makeup to her mother she was angling the mirror so Alma could see. It took several tries but soon enough her abuela asked her to stop. - Hold it there, don’t move. Oh… Oh… Isabela it’s beautiful, so gorgeous. The colours, the flowers themselves… The daisies… I have you all in my hair as much as in my heart. Thank you, I would wear it everyday if I could.

-You can; come to my room every morning and I’ll do it for you. I sometimes do mamá’s hair and Mira’s, I can spare enough time to do yours and if you want to change any of the flowers at any point I'll be more than glad to do it.

-I’m taking you on that promise. Tomorrow morning I’ll be up and about and waiting for you to do my hair. Are you sure?

-At what time do you wake up?

Another point for Alma, good job. Isa put the mirrors away but not before her abuela had turned her head to kiss her nieta’s cheek. Returning her attention back to Luisa’s hands she didn’t see the blush that spread over Isa’s face as she put everything back inside her suitcase. This was a small change, they hadn’t even cut her hair but having it out of its usual confinement and brushed into this amazing hairdo she couldn't help feeling that she was already a new woman. Luisa’s nails were done in a matter of seconds both women comparing the way the colour matched their skin and how well they had managed not to get too much paint on their skin, laughing quietly at the worst looking ones in Luisa’s hands. Even in their bad shape they still brought a smile to her nieta’s face and she wouldn’t change anything from this moment. The sound of something heavy falling in the back of the room disturbed the moment, making them all raise their heads towards the two girls that were now heading towards them with tons of fabrics in their arms.

-Are you done over here? Are we ready for stage two?

-There are stages? - Dolores was taking more and more fabric from Mirabel’s arms so the girl could take a closer look at whatever she was holding as if she had just finished fixing something and wanted to make sure it was fine. She wasn’t looking at them but Dolores was practically beaming.

-Not really but sounds fancy. Are you done?

Julieta and Pepa nodded, giving them the confirmation needed to start spreading outfit after outfit over the blankets and mattresses forcing Luisa and Alma to stand, the second one with a wide open mouth simply staring at what they were showing them. Stunning blouses and shirts with gorgeous lace details and embroidered butterflies and little candles, long and flowy skirts with gradients in pink and hand sewn drawings that Alma knew Mirabel had done. Was this all for her? Since when had they been planning on doing this, they couldn’t have done it in this short time. They remained in silence watching how Alma was crouching towards one of the dresses, her fingertips brushing over the fabric gently feeling the embroidery under her hands. It was a deep shade of quinacridone magenta sewed in satin with black and golden butterflies and several layers under the skirt, a simple bodice of solid colour that instead of finishing in Alma’s usual high neck now finished in an astonishing ruffle in a semitransparent kind of fabric with a round collar the outfit wrapping up with a pair of angel sleeves. It was the most splendid dress she had ever seen, better than any other outfit she had ever owned in her entire life.

-Do you… do you like it?

-Like it? No, I don’t. I adore it. - she hadn’t seen how Mirabel’s face had dropped for a second before breaking out into a delighted smile and a ridiculous dance that Alma was not seeing, still too taken by the dress to focus on anything else. - For how long have you been working on this? It must have taken you months.

-Weeks actually, papá helped, but it’s okay I didn't have much more to do. I was planning on giving it to you on your birthday but now seems like a better moment. Would you try it on? I’ve had to work with measurements that might not have been exactly correct.

-You made this for me. I can’t believe it, I have never had something so magnificent in my life but I’m so glad it came from you, mariposa. Help me put it on?

In under a second Mirabel was by her side lifting the gown off the floor and giving it to her mother, Pepa’s hands working swiftly on the buttons while Mirabel helped Alma get her dress off careful not to ruin her hair or newly painted nails. Standing in the middle of the room in her shift was not how she had expected to find herself tonight, but at least she wasn’t getting naked for a man and after the last couple of days that made quite a nice change. Both of them helped her get into the new one gently so they wouldn’t accidentally rip the fabric with her Victorian boots that didn’t fit with the outfit at all, they would have to get her new cooler shoes, Mira buttoning up the bodice and tying a lace belt Alma hadn’t noticed before. A quick twirl was all she needed to fall in love with it. It was light even with the layers the skirt had, and it seemed to fit like a glove, her neck free of any stifling materials and her arms free to move as they pleased. Even after seventy five years of life she could still pull it off. It was modest, didn’t show too much of her, but so different from what she was used to, it reminded her of something she would have worn when she was younger and she couldn’t be happier. The old Alma would have made a comment on how pretty it was but that would have been it, she would have refused to try it on saying that it was not suitable for a woman like her, the new Alma didn’t give a flying fuck what anyone thought, she felt like a princess and wouldn’t change that feeling for nothing in this world. Her granddaughters soon were around her complimenting her, making comments on what could be added and giving ideas on what other things she could wear Alma promising to show them how well the rest of clothes fitted. The sisters sat aside Juli brushing Pepa’s hair while the redhead tried to find a nice blush to use on her dark skinned sister both watching the scene wishing they had a camera to capture this moment.

-We should have paid more attention to how the people were treating her. We could have had a mother this happy if we had known what they were saying and doing.

-I know Pepi, but at least we have her and we can change things for her. No more running around until exhaustion and no more being used as a mule. None of the girls will allow it but she has to learn to say no on her own. Luisa is doing it and they seem to really want to get to know each other.

-We won’t have to worry then, she wouldn’t let anything happen to her abuela, she won’t let people bother her in the slightest but we should keep an eye on things for the time being, until we know for sure mamá won’t betray herself. I mean it’s fifty years what we have to erase, it won’t be easy.

-But we seem to be on the right path. - Dolores and Mirabel were holding their skirts loosely in their hands trying to follow their abuela’s steps as they danced admiring every movement Alma’s new ruffled skirt made and loving how merry each twirl made her; Luisa and Isabela were dancing their own choreography underneath a soft rain of poppies and morning glories all of them half whispering half singing the words to a song neither Julieta nor Pepa could hear, not that they minded much. All of their gifts were shining like bright stars around their abuela; they didn’t need Dolores’ super hearing, she loved to dance just as much as she loved gossiping, they didn’t need Luisa’s strength, they admired much more her kindness; Mirabel didn’t have a gift like her uncle or cousins had but she had many other qualities that counted as gifts just as much as anyone else's even if they hadn’t been granted by a magical candle. If only she had seen all this sooner she could have avoided them so much pain. Looking up at the ceiling the petals of the flowers brushed against her skin as she carried on dancing feeling that the woman her husband had married, the woman Mariano had shared a bed with, was now here to stay. No one or nothing was going to stop her from finding herself and sharing it with her family. Petal after petal her eyes closed, her body falling still just standing there letting them wash her fears away as a bright radiant rainbow was being born in between the palmas de cera and the rocios de sol high above their heads. In the middle of a circle of lilies, orchids, poppies and daisies stood Alma Madrigal, a woman in love.

#alma madrigal #abuela madrigal #Encanto #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal #bruno magridal #dolores madrigal #mariano guzman #señora guzmán #Disney

[lokuhapuarachchi]

The Story of Coffee

A couple of guests came to our house last night. The newlyweds arrived from Medellin, Colombia's second largest city, to spend their honeymoon in Britain. They brought us a unique gift from their hometown, obtained from their workplace. Their gift to our esteemed host was a 500-gram bag of Pergamino coffee. The respectful manner in which they presented it to us conveyed a profound connection between them and the coffee. The aroma of coffee gradually permeated the house as they unpacked the bag from their travel luggage, creating a perfect backdrop for our conversation.

Infused with the unique Colombian coffee, memories of a coffee plantation in the garden of my childhood home in Sri Lanka flooded back. The rich and inviting scent made our home feel cosy and content. This post began with a cup of hot coffee brewed from the grounds of that very bag. As the ground coffee dissolved in hot water, I savoured the slightly bitter chocolate caramel flavour and the deep sweetness lingering on my palate. The aroma of the coffee cup and the clean taste on my tongue gave me a profound appreciation for the quality of this Colombian coffee.

Reflecting on my conversation with the two Colombian visitors, several points caught my attention:

Pergamino coffee:

Both of them brought Pergamino coffee, sourced from the Pergamino region of Colombia, renowned for producing the highest quality Arabica coffee beans. Colombia is celebrated for its coffee production, with the Pergamino region playing a significant role in its reputation for exceptional coffee plantations.

Located in the Antioquia region, the city of Pergamino benefits from a favourable climate, high altitude, and fertile soil conditions, which create optimal growing conditions for coffee plants. Elevations ranging from 1,200 to 2,000 metres above sea level contribute to the development of dense, flavorful coffee beans with distinctive characteristics.

Colombian coffees, including Pergamino, are known for their balanced flavours, typically featuring a smooth, medium body with subtle notes of chocolate, nuts, and citrus. Coffee from this region is often distinguished by its bright acidity and clean finish, making it highly sought after among coffee enthusiasts.

Pergamino coffee undergoes various processing methods, including washed, natural, or honey extraction, each imparting unique flavour characteristics to the beans. The processing method significantly influences the final flavour profile of the coffee.

Coffee from Pergamino and other regions in Colombia enjoys high demand in the specialty coffee market due to its consistent quality and distinctive taste. It is often marketed as a single-origin coffee, allowing consumers to appreciate the unique flavours specific to the region.

In conclusion, Pergamino Coffee represents a part of Colombia's rich coffee heritage, offering consumers a delightful coffee experience characterised by exceptional taste and quality.

Coffee culture:

Coffee culture encompasses the social atmosphere, customs, and traditions surrounding coffee consumption worldwide. It encompasses everything from the preparation and customs associated with consuming coffee to the spaces where people gather to enjoy it together.

Coffee has a long history as a central aspect of social interaction in many cultures. Different cultures have their preferred methods of preparing and brewing coffee, such as espresso, pour-over, French press, Turkish coffee, and others, each offering a distinct flavour profile and experience. Many cultures also have specific rituals or traditions associated with drinking coffee, whether it's a morning ritual to start the day or an afternoon gathering with friends.

In Britain, where I reside, coffee culture often revolves around communal spaces like coffee shops, cafes, and specialty coffee shops, providing comfortable environments for socialising or simply enjoying a cup of coffee.

In recent years, there has been a growing appreciation for artisanal and specialty coffees worldwide, focusing on high-quality beans, precise brewing techniques, and unique flavour profiles. Coffee holds cultural significance in many societies, with coffee ceremonies playing important roles in hospitality and social customs in some regions.

Moreover, coffee culture is closely linked to creativity and intellectual pursuits, with many writers, artists, and thinkers frequenting coffeehouses as places of inspiration and discussion.

Overall, coffee culture reflects the diverse ways in which coffee is enjoyed, appreciated, and integrated into daily life worldwide.

Finally, the price of the Colombian coffee that my guests brought home is US$18.19. The Colombian coffee market is projected to contribute an additional $813.1 million to Colombia's Gross National Product (GNP) this year, which stood at $343 billion last year and has been steadily growing. Meanwhile, the monthly salary of my guest, who works in the coffee manufacturing industry, is 1,300,606.00 Pesos (equivalent to $333.29 US Dollars).

Photography / Story by Anuruddha Lokuhapuarachchi

#Coffee #Colombina Coffee #Anuruddha Lokuhapuarachchi

[bu1410]

Good evening TUMBLR - March 18th - 2024

''Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971."

Abu Dhabi UAE June 1996 - November 1997 - ''Tawheela Water Transmission Scheme" - Part 1

 At the beginning of June 1996, after a year spent in the SARPOM - ESSO refinery in Tracate, I received a call from the SAIPEM personnel office - A couple of days later I was having an interview in San Donato, at the 3rd Office Building, where an HR officer proposed a job as ''Coastal Tanks Farm Engineer''.

You know – he tells me – we have set up a new joint company, it is called SASP (Saipem – SNAMPROGETTI) and it will deal with the construction of oil & gas tanks all over the world.

Interesting – I said – so what?

This is an Italian recruitment, you will have to work here at the headquarters, with sporadic missions abroad.

And how much would the salary would be?

Well……at first we're talking about 1.8 million liras…then we'll see……

I thank you very much for thinking of me………but for the moment I intend to return to work abroad…….

Well then wait, in this case we go to the Rag. Tenenti (the Saipem HR Office Manager) who perhaps has something to offer you. So we went to see Mr. Fausto Tenenti, one of those HR Manager with triple hairs layers over his chest. A guy in his sixties, graying, with a handlebar moustache, when we entered Mr. Tenenti's office he was on speakerphone with a female lawyer (he then told me in a low voice ''Switzerland''). The reason for the call was Mr. Chioccioli, employee of Saipem Colombia, who had been kidnapped for almost a year by the FARC, a Colombian guerrilla-terrorist group that financed itself through kidnappings and drug trafficking. The ransom demand made by the guerrillas – according to the Switzerland lawyer – was 3 million dollars. To which Tenenti burst out with a ''WOOOOOOAAAATTT??? 3 MILLION FOR CHIOCCIOLI??? YOU KNOW WHAT? THEY CAN KEEP HIM!!!! And he hung up the phone. After recovering a bit, Mr. Tenenti told me that there was a request for a Civil SPTD for a project in Abu Dhabi – that my profile seemed suitable for the request and he would introduce me to talk to the Deputy Project Manager, Mr. Daniele Nazzani. Sitting in the interview room, I saw entering a guy about 2.00 meters tall: it was my first meeting with ''Nazzani the Great!! Goodness of him, I was deemed suitable to leave for the Emirates. So I resigned from Foster Wheleer, 7 days before the contract expiry date, since Saipem was in a hurry to send me to Abu Dhabi.

DEPARTURE TO UAE I then left for the United Arab Emirates in early June, via Rome, and landed at the old Abu Dhabi airport. At the time it was far from the super efficient airport that was built later, but just a large hangar with somewhat botched immigration procedures. Once I entered the arrivals hall, on the other side of the glass a series of Asians were bustling with signs with the names of companies and travelers written on them, in an incredible hubbub. I heard someone shout:

SAIBUMM ……SAIBUMM……. I looked through the glasses and saw a Somali holding a sign with a six-legged dog logo on it – I approached the guy, and the Somali asked me:

Saibumm???

No…Saipem……

Ok – take this ''bepar'' and go to immigration ……. The ''bepar'' was the entry visa that lasted 72 hours, and was needed just to enter the Emirates - then you had to hand over your passport to the personal office, which would extend the visa until you obtained residency. I managed to get through passport control quite quickly, and then the driver went to get the Toyota in which he took me to the Saipem camp in Sweihan. About 150 kilometers inland, and therefore south of Abu Dhabi, Sweihan was just a village at the crossroads of the highway to Al Ain, the second most important city of the Emirate. I immediately realized that I had not ''fallen well'' - in the sense that the Saipem field was of the ''old Saipem'' type consisting of the recovered old containers from previous projects. The room I was assigned was perhaps 5 or 6 square meters, and was divided by a shared bathroom with the next door neighbor. The bathroom had 2 doors, one for each room, and when the neighbor forgot to unlock the lock after using the bathroom, it was impossible to access the bathroom itself. The canteen was run by a local caterer, and the food was scarce and not very varied. There was the so-called ''club'', that is, a series of assembled containers that served as a bar, TV room and billiards. Overall one of the poorest Saipem camps I have attended, both under, both in terms of management and appearance.

THE PROJECT

The Taweelah Water Transmission Scheme was a project to bring desalinated water from the desalination plant from Abu Dhabi coast to the city of Al Ain, about 180 km South/East. as well as the summer residence of the President of Emirates Sheik Zayed  bin Sultan Al Nahyan. SAIPEM was in charge of building the three stations, two storage/pumping (Ajaban and Sweihan) and the Al Ain receiving station. At the intermediate stations we built 2 concrete tanks of 6 million gallons each, plus the pumping stations. In the Al Ain there would have been 4 tanks og 6 million gallon potable water. The connection from the desalination plant of Taweelah to the stations - 2x68 inch cast iron pipelines - was entrusted to an Egyptian company, thanks to the close friendship between President Mubarak and Sheikh Zayed.

ALBERT TROVATO - SITE MANAGER Mr. trovato Albert, a guy with a rather abrupt and rude manner (to use a euphemism) who lived in Abu Dhabi in a 12-room villa with his family of 4 people, was the Site Manager on bejalf of SAIPEM. The day after my arrival, Mr. Trovato had me called to his office. After having extolled his entire collection of Harley Davidson pens, Harley Davidson hats, and Harley Davidson t-shirts (you understood that he owned a Harley Davidson?) and after telling me not to call him ''Alberto'' because having been born in Australia his name was ''Albert,'' took a look at my contract and blurted out:

And who recommended you for having such a high salary?

Anyone but myself – I replied. The nickname we gave Trovato was ''come xea ahh? '' (How are you doing?) Because it was the phrase he uttered every time he met someone. During a weekend he decided to show the construction sites to his wife and mother-in-law. With his latest Toyota Land Cruiser he left

the Al Ain station, and instead of taking the highway to Abu Dhabi he began to follow the sand track that marked the pipeline route. At a certain point, having lost control, the car overturned!! Luckily they were in an area where there was still a mobile phone signal, so Mr. Trovato managed to call for help. They were all admitted to a clinic in Al Ain, where his wife was found to have just multiple abrasions, while his mother-in-law had suffered a fractured collarbone. Only a few months later Mr. Trovato and the Project Director Mr. Parseley were ignominiously fired by Client. The project was seriously in delay, and not only did SAIPEM lost a lot of money, but at the end of the project it would be blacklisted for 5 years by the Government of Abu Dhabi. Mr. Trovato was replaced by Eng. Fragola, a long-time SAIPEM member who had spent his entire career in the offshore department. A Friday I was called urgently to the site: Mr. Fragola had arrived and we had to accompany him to visit the stations. Trovato treated him with disdain – there was a moment when we were all on the tank's roof and Fragola pointed to the large pumping building asking:

Sorry Albert, what is that big shed? Trovato: shed? I don't see any sheds… Fragola, a small, bald guy with a hawk moustache, was the usual respectable SAIPEM Manager. He forced us to go to Easter mass in the only Abu Dhabi Catholic. He was accompanied by his wife, but few years later I learned that Fragola had asked for a divorce during his assignment in Argentina. I would meet Fragola again during Kashagan project in Aksai. He was then elderly, but he spent every evening at the RENCO restaurant-cafeteria surrounded by girls 40 years younger than him.

SAIPEM staff The SAIPEM staff was made up of around 50 Italians, and integrated by Filipinos, Portuguese and Indians. The General Superintendent was a guy called Ottani a typical representative of the ''old Saipem'': he had joined the Company very young, had gradually climbed the hierarchy becoming Site Superintendent. The phrase I heard him say most often was:

Ahh, isn't that good? So let's send him back to Italy!! Once I told him that if we fired everyone he wanted to fire, we would be left alone at the project within few days.

Ottani was seen very little on site - I remember him when he accompanied the Area Manager for the Middle East Mr. Olivares to visit the Ajban station: the Toyota Land Cruiser driven by Ottani got buried in the sand. It was July, and Mr. Olivares, a guy ''with a few extra kilos'', was sweating like a wild boar when they walked back to the office. Ottani used to wear white trousers, a shirt and cowboy boots (ideal clothing for a construction site) especially from a Safety point of view One day he wanted to climb onto one of the enormous concrete bases of the Wortington pumps: he tripped over one of the cables and ruined to the ground from a height of 2 meters – he hurt himself, but the thing that literally drove him mad was that he spoiled his white trousers with dirty oil and grease and had to throw them away.

COTTI GIULIO – RIP Giulio was my ''toilet companion'', in the sense that we shared the bathroom. Forty-year-old from Boario Terme (North Italy) he claimed that we had met in Dahran in 1980, during the construction of the military hospital. I didn't remember him, but he told me that on that occasion he had worked for a subcontractor company. Giulio was an atypical guy from his original area, in the sense that up to 30 he had not touched wine and alcohol - following serious family problems, during the period in Abu Dhabi that he began to drink, and given that he was also an avid smoker, perhaps these were the causes behind his serious

illness and then his premature death in 2005. He supervised the Sweihan station, but one day he argued with the Lebanese construction manager of Al Nasr (our local sub-contractor) and so in protest Cotti climbed the sand dune behind the station. He stayed there for 3 days/night, drinking water from the cooler he had brought with him. Cotti came down from the dune only after Bulato promised that he would send him to Al Ain station. This fact displeased me greatly, because in the meantime I had been sent to Al Ain in order to speed up a bit the works, given that the station was double the size compared to the others, and the works were well behind schedule. With Cotti's arrival, I had to return to Sweihan. In Al Ain, Main Sub Contractor was an Italian company called SAC, therefore many Italians were working at the site. The station was very close to the city, while Sweihan was just a village. A Thursday evening, after work, Giulio and I used to leave for the weekend in Dubai, returning on Friday evening.

ANDREA - Tool mechanic. I don't remember his surname at the moment - another very strange guy, but with surprising skils. He knew how to fabricate everything, from bird traps to the most ingenious tools for aligning pumps. He spoke very little to anybody, but once the Site Manager Nardi dared to shout him - Andrea, looking straight into his eyes, replied:

If you have anything to say, don't speak with me, get in touch with my direct supervisor, Mr. Galli – good afternoon. At the end of the three-month shift, Andrea informed his supervisor that he was not feeling well, and that he did not intend to come back to Abu Dhabi after his holidays. The day after Andrea's departure, we were in canteen and the camp chief told us:

I got here 200 dollars in cash, left by Andrea before his departure - he said to use them to drink to his health.

PAOLUCCI GIOVANNI Dozer operator and excavator, in short, the type of person who knows how to operate any construction equipment. Umbrian, of the type to be placed under the protection of the WWF or any humanitarian organizations. Small, crooked, very ugly to look at, he could easily have stepped out of one of Hyeronimous Bosch's terrible paintings. A sort of ''Hunchback of Notre Dame''. He arrived from Italy with two overloaded suitcases - for which he regularly paid for the overweight - containing various food products from his village: cheeses, cured meats, honey, jams, etc. which he never shared with anyone. You could see him preparing absurd meals with the most disparate ingredients all together. One of his famous quote he was repeating was:

''Italy has been ruined by the Civil Engineers''

Giovanni had an ongoing dispute in Italy, for having shot with a shotgun at some boys who were trying to steal his cherries from one of the trees on his property. In Ajaban site the brackish water was about -7.00 meters deep - water was needed, because the site area had to be continuously wet, given the dust that the wind and vehicles raised all day. Giovanni dug two huge holes (later we even took a swim in one of them) and from here the necessary water was taken with a pump. The holes were about 50 meters away from each other, and one day Giovanni put forward the theory that ''if the two holes were joined with a canal, the water level would increase''. Everyone disagreed, stating that since the water table was unique, how could the water level rise just by joining the two holes? Taking advantage of a Friday off, the stubborn Umbrian went to the site early in the morning and dug the canal, connecting the two puddle of water. The water level - of course - remained the same. While digging those tuff soils, we sometimes came across geodes - not of great beauty but still interesting - sometimes, if lucky, inside there were colored crystals: white, purple, yellow. Giovanni got it into his head that he could make some profit out of it. Whenever he found large round stones he used to put them aside and when it was time to leave he filled two SAIPEM trunks that he had got warehouse. Some of us objected:

Look Giovanni, sometimes those that look like geodes are actually just stone, and therefore in my opinion you should open them before bringing them to Italy.

Giovanni: ''Now I am an expert in geodes and I recognize them even if they are intact. The trunks weighed almost 100x2 kg and the bill for the extra weight was very high. Upon Giovanni's return from Italy we asked:

So how did it go with the geodes?

Well… forget it, go… a very bad luck… just a couple them had crystals in it and they were not even nice…

Ahh…that's it…

RONALDO OLIVARES A Brazilian guy, working in Technical Office - with this name and origin, everyone wanted to book him when it came to playing five-a-side football the following Friday afternoon. Well, despite his name and origin, Ronaldo was the antithesis of football, an individual denied by nature to have anything to do with a ball.

ZUPPICHIATI Known as ''Zuppi'' he was part of the site technical office. Vague resemblance to Errol Flinn (remember this actor?) Zuppi had started a relationship with a Filipina who worked in Al Ain as a nurse. From the relationship a little girl was born, who had bad luck of being alien for some time. By Emirates Law, children of foreign couples born in the country were not guarantee any citizenship. Eventually the girl's mother, after 1 year, managed to obtain a travel document lasting 5 days from the Philippine Embassy - with this document mother and daughter eventually succeded to leave the Emirates on a flight to Manila. I never knew if Zuppi had acknowledged the paternity.

LONGO SERAFINO He was the lifting expert as well as the father of Longo Federico who I would meet 16 years later on the Shah Gas Abu Dhabi project. A Thursday evening Longo was returning to the Al Ain camp driving his Toyota Prado after a cheerful evening, and suddenly he hit one of those enormous coffee pots that in the Emirates are placed in the center of roundabouts. While Longo was displaying the entire repertoire of expletives from the Venetian vocabulary, the police arrived - and asked the fateful question:

''Are you drunk''?

Longo answer: ''Well...maybe… a little … had a couples of beer… Then he was submitted to alcohol test in which he tested positive, immediately arrested and transferred to the police station. Unfortunately for Longo, it was the Eid el Hada weekend, so the Courts were closed and the hearings were postponed until the following week. In the end poor Serafino ''enjoyed'' Emirati jails for 6 days, and was released after the Court set the bail at 1,600 dollars. Mr. Bulato never forgave him for this misadventure, and condemned Longo to assemble the 1,600 ton American crane practically alone.

GUERRA MARCO - RIP He was the Civil Works Superintendent of Al Ain station – the only one whom Trovato was saying: ''Marco and I are the only ones who understand everything about this project''. Mr. Guerra was truly a funny guy. One day he posted a notice on the office noticeboards

''You are all invited to the bar of the Hilton hotel in Al Aina to celebrate my 50th birthday''. Needless to say, participation was massive - especially from Filipinos . Eventually the bill was $5,730.

SITE ORGANIZATION The works for the construction of the stations were divided as follows:

Ajaban and Swaihan stations: Local Contractor AL NASR - A very powerful local company, which made use of Lebanese technical personnel and Indian labor, especially Sikhs (very good)

Al Ain station: Itaky's SAC – a Busseto company part of the SICIM Group with years of experience in the civil Oil & Gas sector. The Client's Management was at the same time the most farcical and tragic thing that can be achieved in such an important project for the Emirates. At the head of the team was a man, Ahmed Al Abddullah, born in Iran, but an Emirati by adoption. One of those characters with an unkempt beard but no mustache. He was always dressed in the traditional white disdasha, ghutra on his head, and sandals on his feet (even on construction sites). He never spoke, he just SHOUTED - ALWAYS. During a trip to Italy, at the invitation of SAIPEM, one night he called the logistics manager from the 5***** Hotel de La Ville in Monza: ''Send a driver immediately here because I won't stay in this dump for a minute longer''. One day he saw from afar a truck transporting the pump room carpentry to the site – they were painted with green epoxy paint as specified, but the painter had protected the lower face of the base plates using masking tape to prevent them from being painted. Now the tape (obviously looking green) because of the heat during transportation was fluttering and Ahmed, from distance, thought the paint was peeling off. He started yelling at his subordinate Filippino to get that truck out of the site! The Filipino asked him why and he responded by shouting: ''YOU CAN'T SEE THE PAINT PEELING OFF???!!! – Then the Filipino tried to point out ''Sorry Sir, it's not the paint flying, it's the protective tape'' So Ahmed furious ''YOU ARE FIRED!!!''

[yessadirichards]

Netflix unveils 2024 slate led by sci-fi from 'Thrones' creators

LOS ANGELES

Netflix is betting on its ambitious new sci-fi series from the creators of "Game of Thrones" to help extend its streaming dominance in 2024, as the company unveiled a sprawling TV and film lineup Thursday.

"3 Body Problem," out March 21, is adapted from a bestselling Chinese trilogy of novels which takes place in an alternate version of modern reality where humanity has made contact with an alien civilization.

The series will be "part thriller, part sci-fi," chief content officer Bela Bajaria told journalists at a Los Angeles press conference.

It is at least partly set in modern-day London. One scene showed a British police inspector (played by Benedict Wong) investigating a strange and grisly apparent suicide.

"It's a big swing. A huge, cinematic bet," said Bajaria.

The series from "Thrones" pair David Benioff and D.B. Weiss features prominently in a Netflix 2024 preview reel published online Thursday, and was the first content shown to reporters at this week's presentation.

Other shows due later this year include the eagerly awaited second season of "Squid Game" -- the dystopian Korean horror tale about a fictional, deadly game show which remains by far the most-watched Netflix TV series ever.

It will follow returning hero Gi-hun as he abandons his plans to go to the United States and "starts a chase with a motive."

Also among a notably international lineup were a Spanish-language, Colombian-made TV series based on Gabriel Garcia Marquez's beloved novel "One Hundred Years of Solitude," and a six-part drama about the life of Brazilian racing great Ayrton Senna.

On the movie side, Eddie Murphy returns this summer in a new "Beverly Hills Cop" sequel.

Netflix last week announced it had added 13 million subscribers in the final three months of last year.

It finished 2023 with slightly more than 260 million subscribers worldwide -- comfortably ahead of any rivals.

"Many of you in this room have said to me that with so many titles across so many genres, that it's hard to understand our strategy," said Bajaria.

But roughly two people per account means an audience of "more than half a billion people," she said.

"No entertainment company has tried to program with this ambition -- for this many tastes, cultures and languages. Ever."

Netflix began life in 1998 as a U.S.-only DVD-by-mail rental company, taking on the then-mighty movie rental giant Blockbuster, before dipping into video-on-demand as a perk for its customers -- a shift that enabled the company to expand globally.

#yessadirichards