#Miguel Jurado

[cursedvida]

Culpo a tiktok por lo que estoy a punto de decir (últimamente estoy escuchando mucho esta canción en la app) pero la canción Paloma Ajena me recuerda a nomae jksjsjsk 😭💀 siento que pega con ellos la letra jajajaajs

Jajajajajajajajajajjajaja me parto muchísimo let’s buscar canciones en español del año fe nuestra abuela que le peguen al ship estoy 100% a favor de esto

[kirsteng42]

I love how sweaty Javi gets and Franklin does not!!!!

Narcos - Favorite scene (S03E06)

[jartita-me-teneis]

"Los Olvidados" es considerada la cinta culpable del declive de la época de oro.

Estuvo sólo tres días en cartelera, la prensa y la clase alta estaban vueltas locas, querían quemar a Luis Buñuel y todo lo que oliera a él.

Era 1950 y el cine mexicano estaba en su esplendor , el cineasta español Luis Buñuel ya tenía éxito, pero estaba enamorado de nuestro país, grabada en Nonoalco, en lo que entonces eran los límites norteños de la Ciudad de México. Y tenía un propósito, una visión desgarradora de los niños de la calle en las grandes urbes; Aquellos de los que nadie habla, los que callan, los olvidados.

CINE

El poeta Octavio Paz escribió: “Pero Los Olvidados es algo´más que un filme realista. El sueño, el deseo, el horror, el delirio el azar, la porción nocturna de la vida, también tiene su parte. Y el peso de la realidad que nos muestra es de tal modo atroz, que acaba por parecernos imposible, insoportable. Y así es: la realidad es insoportable; y por eso, porque no la soporta, el hombre mata y muere, ama y crea”.

Su nombre original era "La Manzana Podrida" y en realidad, no tenía ningún nombre de peso, se tenía a Estela Inda, Miguel Inclán y Alfonso Mejía, además de un grupo de niños comandado por Roberto Cobo, un chico que había salido como extra en varias cintas y un día que audicionó para una película de Tin Tan se enteró que Buñuel estaba entrevistando para su nuevo filme, hizo la audición y se quedó con el rol de “El Jaibo”.

DORADO

Sin embargo, desde su inicio, la cinta tenía problemas, dentro y fuera. El productor Oscar Dancingers se opuso a que se incluyeran muchos detalles que resultaban amorales; Jorge Negrete, líder del Sindicato de Actores, quería evitar su grabación e instó a técnicos y camarógrafos a abandonarla; una de las peinadoras renunció por la escena en que la madre de Pedrito, le niega la comida.

Pedro de Urdimalas, escritor de la cinta al lado de Buñuel, pidió que su nombre no apareciera en los créditos y en la primera función privada que se hizo, Lupe Marí, esposa de Diego Rivera, y Bertha, esposa de León Felipe, reclamaron al director que era un miserable y lo que mostraba no era México. David Alfaro Siqueiros por su parte aplaudió el trabajo asegurando que Luis era un genio nacido para el cine.

MX

Los Olvidados era la primera producción sería de Luis Buñuel y quería hacerlo todo al máximo de sus posibilidades, la filmó en 21 días entre el 6 de febrero y el 9 de marzo de 1950, pero aunque la cinta es posiblemente una de las más galardonadas de su cine, él solo recibió dos mil dólares por ella y no pudo participar en las ganancias de la misma.

Ante las críticas, Buñuel respondió durante una entrevista que estaba orgulloso de su filme “La libertad total no existe, yo jamás he sido libre, yo soy libre cuando cierro mis ojos y estoy conmigo mismo sin que sepa que ya estoy viejo; El sistema de inconformidad es esa tendencia a romperse la cabeza por recuperar la propia libertad, lo que es imposible, es por tanto una inconformidad permanente de la realidad exterior”.

En los albores de los 50, el presidente mexicano Miguel Alemán estaba planeando la industrialización en el país, para dejar atrás la agricultura como primera fuente de recursos de los nacionales, pero el cine estaba en su apogeo, por ello las reacciones ante la cinta eran tan violentas.

Se tiene registro de que algunos cines fueron destruidos por los asistentes al estreno en noviembre de ese 1950, los fanáticos salían furiosos, la llamada “Liga de la Decencia” intentó expulsar a Buñuel del país y aunque no lo lograron, el director si dejó el territorio.

CINE

A pesar de los múltiples problemas, Luis Buñuel estrenó su cinta en Europa y la crítica mexicana tuvo que aceptar la gran equivocación cuando el gran jurado del Festival de Cannes le dio el premio como Mejor Director en 1951.

La película tiene una trama dura, y a diferencia, por ejemplo de "Nosotros los pobres" no busca causar lástima sino presentar una realidad diferente a la que se creía que existía en el país.

La historia nos lleva por los barrios más pobres de la Ciudad de México, donde los niños de la calle son una plaga para las altas esferas de la sociedad. Jaibo (Roberto Cobo) es un adolescente que escapa de un correccional para reunirse con Pedro (Alfonso Mejía). En presencia de él, Jaibo mata a Julián, el muchacho que supuestamente le delató. También intenta robar a un ciego (Miguel Inclán) al que finalmente maltrata. Acompañados de Ojitos y Meche (Alma Delia Fuentes), el destino del Jaibo y Pedro están marcados por la muerte."

DORADO

Para muchos expertos en cine de la época consideran que la película terminó con idiosincrasia qué se tenia de México en el extranjero, México había pasado de ser la nación rural donde el romanticismo ranchero era el emblema, las comedias rancheras pasaron a ser del pasado, para dar paso al verdadero país que se tenia olvidado, una sociedad muy corrompida.

Sin embargo la nueva forma de hacer cine gracias al ojo del director Buñuel, con el paso de los años se fueron realizando producciones crudas sobre la sociedad mexicana.

MX

Si bien el termino de la era dorada del cine fueron más factores internos y externos, como la sobre explotación de comedias rancheras, la pobreza de recursos y el que Estados Unidos de alguna manera haya retomado la industria cinematográfica después del conflicto mundial.

epoca de oro Los Olvidados luis buñuel

Cine Mexicano Cine Dorado Mx

[thelightsandtheroses]

Secret Smile: Futility (Chapter Eight)

Secret Smile | Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose.

Word Count: 3.5k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, language, mentions of alcohol, reader has a nickname (Blue) but no physical descriptors are used, un beta’d. Notes - Thanks, as always, for all your lovely comments and reblogs to this fic so far. It means the world to me.

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It feels like the case is falling apart. Jurado won’t testify without Christina and no one knows where she is at the moment.  There are whispers rumbling and none of them are good.

Javi’s become accustomed to racing heartbeats, to surges of adrenaline as he tries to make sense of the cards in front of him. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him, the weight of expectation after he arrested Gilberto.

He needs something else, another option to bring this cartel down.

They go ahead with the plan arrest Miguel, to act decisively, to bring it down once and for all. Feistl has his informant, Natalia, and there’s a plan.

Javi and his team do everything right. They don’t say who the target is; they even bring the damn prosecutor with them to sign the warrant there and then to help keep this quiet, assure the mission’s integrity. They keep the target secret; they have the intelligence that he is in that house. Everything is prepared.

He follows the rules, follows the guidance and your careful considerations. In the moments before it starts, he is sure Blue would be pleased he stops Feistl barging in against the local laws. The prosecutor is reluctant to help but he finally signs the paperwork.

It’s a good plan. Until the local police turn up, until they point out the unblocked exit, until, until, until …

They still fail. They fuck up; they’re moments from getting Miguel and are told the raid isn’t legal, that it’s over.

 Javi knows that Miguel was behind that wall, is probably laughing at them all right now, at their failed attempt, at their incompetence, at Javi’s mistakes.

He thinks back to that night, to the work and preparation that went into it. He felt like himself for a second; in a shirt and tac vest instead of a claustrophobic suit, being at the scene with the intelligence rather than reading it in a report.

 Every minuscule step forward he makes is thwarted with gigantic stumbles backwards. Javi set this path in the motion the day he arrested Gilberto so he needs to see this through. He needs to make this work.

Javi neatens the tie around his neck and looks at you. You look serious; he’s watched you smooth out imaginary creases on your suit jacket at least twice in the last ten minutes.

“We’ve got this,” you say softly, looking at him and Feistl and then at the Ambassador approaching in the distance.

He knows you’re lying.

You take a long gulp of coffee and rest your head against the sofa. The past few weeks have been draining. You thought it was bad enough telling Javi everything that had happened in DC, but quickly after that work had escalated and when the arrest of Miguel failed and they threatened to pull everyone on the raid’s visas?  You’ve been juggling a lot. The two of you have barely been able to talk about what you said on the plane weeks ago.  You’re glad of that.

You don’t want to dwell on the past, you don’t want to go backwards. Somehow talking to Javi about DC changed something within you; it hurt at first. It bought up all your ghosts and agonies. Then it subsided though and in the wake of those memories, you felt different. It’s as though you have forged the broken pieces of yourself together with something stronger, something that makes you more resilient.

It doesn’t hurt so much to think about it now. It’s there; the dull ache that hasn’t subsided, but it’s different.

You were scared after you told Javi that things would change between the two of you; that Javi would think you weak, or even worse, he would change how he was around you. Things have been normal though, or as normal as they can be.

“Are you sure you can trust him?” you ask quietly, after considering what Javi has just told you he plans to do to get Christina back.

“No, but I - I don’t see another option right now. The cartel paid for Christina to be -” Javi breaks off and looks out of the glass windows of his office. “I need to go and get her.”

You don’t need Javi to elaborate on what he’s thinking. You don’t want to think about what Christina may be going through, how terrified she may be right now.  It is so like Javi thought to decide he’ll be the one to get to her, to not delegate the role but to see it through.

“And then Jurado will talk, I’ll get the deal back, Javi. We can get him to translate the ledger you found?”

“That’s the plan, cariño. There are two people who can translate that ledger - him and the accountant and we only have Jurado right now.” Javi moves off the desk he was perched against.

You’ve noticed his habits over the many months you’ve worked together now; how he leans against furniture, how he prefers a shirt and jeans to suits, how he naturally wants to loosen the top buttons of any shirt he wears, to always show a tantalising amount of neck. He has freckles there; sometimes you’ve wanted to count them, to place a delicate kiss on each one.

You can’t though. There’s the case, there’s your history, there’s too much.

“So, you’re off into the jungle again?” you ask, a mischievous smirk on your face.

“I promise won’t wear my best shoes this time,” he says lightly, squeezing your arm briefly as you move to stand next to him.

“Well, that’s some progress I suppose.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know, I know you are. Look, Javi, we’ll get through this. You’ll get Christina and then we have the money, we have Jurado’s testimony. We’re getting there - you’re getting there.”

“Thanks, Blue.”

“Just be safe, Javi. I don’t like the sound of this guy.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.” Javi pauses then adds, “I’ll be safe, don’t worry,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours with an unspoken promise.

Things fall apart quickly and the confirmation from Salcedo there’s a link brings all the puzzle pieces together at last.

Javi watches your face carefully as he tells you everything he knows; that the leak may be in the government, that Jurado is dead, murdered in prison and that he was this close to arresting Miguel before he was stopped. He confesses that they seem to know all of his moves, that the stacks of cards he’s carefully constructed is being systematically destroyed and he’s not sure he can stop this.

He has a matter of hours to make this right and he can’t even get to Cali. He’s stuck here in Bogota and it’s not enough.

“Javi, they’ve asked for all my files too,” you say softly, “I - I don’t know how we can fix this one. I spent hours talking to the local office today and - I don’t think I can fix this.” You’re not looking at him and Javi wonders if you think he’s disappointed in you. He’s not, he can’t be anything more than amazed that you’ve fought with him as hard as you have, that you’re still here with him.

He looks at you, exhales the smoke from his cigarette and confesses the next part of his plan. “We’re going to arrest Miguel today.”

“What?”

”If I still have until the end of today, we can still get him before then. You and I both know that it won’t happen after today. So, it happens now, or it doesn’t happen at all.”

“Javi, I -  okay. Okay. What do you need from me?”

“I’ve got a plan with Feistl and Van Ness. I’ve - I’ve spoken to General Serrano just now and it’s going ahead, we - we have a plan. We make him move, make him leave his safehouse or wherever he’s hiding and then we get him.”

You tilt your head as you take in the plan and then nod. “That sounds sensible. Right, you have a plan, you still have some time to do this but what’s wrong, Javi? I can see it all over your face.”

“I’m stuck here, Blue - I should be in Cali with my team but I’m not and -”

If anything goes wrong and he’s not there, if Javi’s the one who insisted on setting this in motion …

He swallows.

Christina’s right, he is a piece of shit. How can he tell you about what he’s done? He lied to Feistl and Van Ness, lied about Salcedo and getting him out just so he has the chance for them to arrest Miguel? He thinks of the numerous CIs he’s had over the years, the way he’s detested higher-ups for making calls just like this, the consequences of that which he’s seen.

If this goes wrong today, he’ll never wash the blood off his hands.

He can’t tell you any of this though.

Instead, he resigns himself to the fact that while Christina is right about him, if he can get Miguel, if he can expose this corruption, then maybe he won’t be so bad. Maybe he will bear some goodness at last and it will be worth it.

Javi feels your hand on his arm, a gentle squeeze. It reassures him, having you so near to him, the solid grounding presence of your hand on his shirt.

It’s nearly over, he tells himself, it’s almost over.  They’ll arrest Miguel, they’ll get Salcedo and his family somewhere safe, it will all be worth it. It’s the right thing.

The DEA arrest Miguel, they safely put Salcedo and his family into a hotel. That’s when your work can start at last; the next step in acquiring justice. You

There’s no celebration in Javi’s office after Miguel’s arrest, no true sense of a win. There’s the slow, haunting realisation that the odds were always stacked around you, that the cartel had all the winning cards.

In the movies, justice moves quickly. The scene transitions seamlessly from the arrest to a courtroom to a jail cell as though it all happens immediately, within a week or two at the most.  You never see the months of work in between that. Real life is so different to the screen. There’s a lot more paperwork to complete than for a start.

You spend so much of your time in these between scenes, slowly trying to find a way forward. The entire pursuit of justice is a painstaking wade though molasses, each step infinitely harder than the last.

One night, shortly after the arrest, you find Javi standing outside your apartment, tie loosened, eyes wild. You’re holding grocery bags in your arm, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt as opposed to your usual workwear.

“Tell me you didn’t know,” he says, “Please, please, cariño, tell me you didn’t know.”

You open your door, leaving it open for him to walk in as you place your grocery bags on the dining table. “What are you talking about, Javi?”

“I was just with the Ambassador.”

“Okay?”

“He played me a tape. Tell me you haven’t heard it.” You forget about unpacking your shopping, forget about which items need to go in the fridge. What tape? What is he saying?

You walk from the kitchen to the sofa.

“Heard what, Javi?” you ask in your best prosecutor voice.

“That they’re all in on it. That they donated to Samper’s campaign, that all of this, all of this means nothing right now, because they’re not going to stay in jail, are they, Blue?”

“Javi I-”

You sit down on the sofa and put your head in your hands.

“It makes sense,” you say after a moment. “Fuck!”

 The system has been against you both from the start. You feel the bile rising in your stomach, the frustration at the futility of everything you have fought for.

“We never stood a chance, Blue.”

“We – Javi -” you falter, unsure of what you can even say.

If what Javi says is true, and of course it is, then everything you’ve done and everything you’ve been planning could be futile. You have so much work left to do in this case and it’s quickly apparent this isn’t going to be smooth. This work is just going to be pushing a boulder uphill, watching it fall and being grateful if it ends just up two inches above where you started. Your work hasn’t even started yet and already you feel like you’re walked into a losing case.

Javi’s face pierces through your reverie; a mix of desperation and despondence.

You know that feeling, you know it too well.

“What if we expose this too? What if I draft an indictment? Can you prove this?” you ask. There’s nothing to lose anymore; your career aspirations with the DOJ were killed back in Washington, this job isn’t for you. So, what do you even have to lose?

“I’d need the accountant.”

“Then get him, Javi. This isn’t over yet.”

Javier’s priority becomes getting Guillermo on side, ensuring there’s evidence to keep the godfathers in jail and achieve some form of justice still. You do whatever you can to help. In between this, you’re drafting and deleting and throwing wads of paper into the bin as you try and figure out how to write this indictment.

Justice isn’t so sweet, but it keeps moving. Arrests are made, deals agreed, the sticky wheels continue to turn.

In the aftermath of all of this, your life becomes flights and hotels and helping the US federal prosecutors state to state make their case and make sense of the evidence and testimonies.

You perfect packing at short notice, learn all of the frequent traveller tips that have evaded you before. After a couple of misadventures, you discover which airport food to definitely avoid, how to pack the least possible luggage so you only have to take a small case with you and don’t waste time at airport carousels after late night flights.

It may be punishment for realising you missed the courtroom - you wonder if this is some sort of divine intervention to show you a tour of as many federal courtrooms across the country as you can imagine.

The coffee is terrible in all of them.

Life slowly moves on.

And throughout it all, there’s Javi.

Right now, you’re in Javi’s office. It’s the first time in days you’ve been here and it feels a little strange.  You only landed a few hours ago from your latest meeting and flight. Your clothes are crumpled and yet here he is, a cup of coffee waiting for you in his office as you trudge your way to him and update him on something he probably already knows about.

You’re both so far from Laredo now.

“So, I can tell you that the office in Delaware had the worst coffee by far,” you say lightly, taking the steaming cup with a smile.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh, how’s the last couple of days been? I saw some of the news footage, I bet that got people talking. Didn’t you have a meeting with the Ambassador today?” Your boss is not so happy with the recent revelations from testimony and press interviews, but you’re not sure you want to tell Javi that. He’s doing the right thing, he’s trying to at least.

Javi’s expression worries you though; it’s the same he wore when he turned up at your apartment to discuss the Ambassador’s revelations.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as you watch him light a cigarette.

“They won’t go further with the indictment you wrote.”

“Oh.”

You sigh heavily and lean against his door. You’re not sure where to start with your response, that once you started drafting it, you knew it would never be filed - that they were never going to let you do anything with it, you knew that. It was just with every word you typed, you felt like you were exorcising some demons. You had to try, didn’t you?

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“’S not your fault.”

“I just - the Ambassador said I won, but I don’t feel like we did.”

“When you arrived, there was a deal on the table that would have delivered the accountabilities, the revelations that have come out because of your work, because of your team. Javi, it might be exactly what we want but - we achieved something, right?”

“I don’t feel like we won. Do you feel like we won, Blue?”

You don’t answer him. You don’t need to.

For a moment you’re not in Bogotá, you’re in a stuffy office in DC listening to a characterisation of yourself you do not recognise, drowning in a betrayal you never expected.

Javi was right all that time ago; you never stood a chance.

Do you feel like we won, Blue?

Javi’s words haunt you throughout your day. You ruminate on them incessantly, conducting a full court trial in your mind of the last of year of your life.

To an extent, Javi’s right. There’s a gnawing in your gut that you’ve failed, that this has just been a waste of a year. This isn’t a win, it’s not the result you fought for or have endured numerous flights and forced niceties for.

Is it truly a loss though?

Would you have ever connected with Javi beyond forced niceties in your fleeting visits to Laredo if it wasn’t for this year? You’ve learned a lot, you know more about the type of lawyer, type of person, you want to be.

It’s not a waste. It’s not the victory you hoped for, but it’s not a waste. It can’t be when it bought you Javi.

For months, you have ignored your feelings for Javi because of a fear of the past, because of your concerns of propriety, of protecting the case that meant so much to the two of you. Only, the whole case was compromised from the start.  The moment hits you like icy water.

You’re here.

You’re at Javi’s door and before you can change your mind, you knock the front door of his apartment.

“What are you doing here?” he asks gruffly, opening the door ajar. You notice that he’s taken off his suit jacket and tie, the top two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned and his hair is more dishevelled. 

“Commiserations, I guess,” you say lightly, as he opens the door to allow you entry to his apartment. “I don’t think I told you this before, but you definitely got an upgrade on the apartment front when you got the attaché role- you can virtually see the whole city from here, Javi.”

“Why are you here, Blue?”

“Like I said … commiserations.” You close the door behind you and cautiously drop your handbag on his sofa. “I was thinking about what you said earlier, about did I feel like we won? All I can say is that people know more than they did, questions are being asked, the godfathers will stay in jail. We got … we got something. it might not be enough, or everything we wanted and hoped for,  but it’s something.”

”Well, as long as we’ve not wasted an entire year of our lives,” Javi says dryly, walking to his living room window.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You wouldn’t?”

You look at the man standing next to you and shake your head as you think about the reason you’re here, that you’ve driven to his apartment block. “No, it’s definitely not an entire waste.”

Over the past year you’ve gone from being completely confused by Javi, by the man he became from the boy you once knew, to becoming friends - real genuine friends.

You’ve had moments where you’ve infuriated each other; where you thought you’d burn every single bridge you built with him out of sheer, incandescent rage and frustration. You’ve spurned his kiss and simultaneously lived for each brushed elbow, each tentative glance. You’ve sympathised with him, got to know the real him, you’ve broken bread together. He’s become more than a colleague, more than your brother’s best friend.

He’s Javi.

It’s Javi.

You’ve fallen for him.

And there’s no reason to deny that anymore, it’s futile to even try.

Besides, there’s no case, no reason to have to ignore it anymore. The case never stood a chance, neither of your efforts really did. You both tried anyway though.

That’s the point.

This year has shown you that you’re stronger, more resilient, and more determined than you ever realised. You will be damned before you let the past dictate your future. You will not let anxieties about people who don’t care about in another state, another country, haunt you for the rest of your life.

You think back to that night at your apartment with Javi months ago. You wondered if it was fate, the two of you being here together and perhaps, back them you were still finding your way back to yourself from DC, but here you are.

So, you stand a little closer to him, so close your hands are brushing. You can smell his cologne, the faint smell of cigarette smoke and when you look over at him, you’re struck by how deep brown his eyes are and how, beyond his frustration at this job he can’t fix, there’s such clear kindness in them. He looks over at you with a slightly puzzled expression on his face before he mirrors your own small smile.

This time, you kiss him.

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[rise-my-angel]

The Complexities Of Defeat

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Length: 4.7k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, angst with a happy ending, references to smut, mentions of violence

Notes: Covers the final act of season three, sequel to A Future Of Unknown Dangers and Waging Double Edged War, but can be read as an stand alone.

Everything spiraled into one disaster after another. Anything that could be perceived as the slightest win was immediately over turned by something worse. The day Javi went out to Cali in a raid for Miguel Rodriquez, you ended up spending a while back in the apartment on the phone with Chucho. He knew some of what was going on, but to no ones surprise, Javi tried to keep the worse details to himself. On the phone with you, he didn’t need to pry, he knew how rough things were just by how you sounded. 

Whatever hope he tried to instill in you was dashed in a matter of days. Javi came back that night, The raid was slammed with bureaucracy that they were forced to give up right as they got to Miguel. “He was right behind that fucking wall and they knew it.” Then he finally found out why Christina Jurado never showed up, and thus you were sent right back into a nightmare. 

At that point you didn’t even care about Berna being involved, he was the least of your problems, but now you were stuck. A late night in the office trying to put off going to an empty apartment, surrounded by the little home you and Javi made for each other and unable to sleep as your mind was plagued with thoughts of what could happen to him out there. Only for him to come home safe to find Franklin was dead, and the whole thing meant nothing. Even then, that still wasn’t the worst of it. 

You were suddenly brought back to La Catedral. The States got to tell the people back home that Escobar was finally behind bars, only to hide the reality that is life was run exactly the same as when he was free only smaller. It felt the same now. It was the same now with Cali. Like both the American and Colombian governments had no interest in serving any kind of justice to these men, just as long as they could say they were locked up they didn’t care what kind of luxury the god fathers now lived in. 

You couldn’t figure out why this time around though no one was even pretending that justice mattered to them. It was the thought that swam around your brain as you made you way home, the sweltering streets filled with noise doing little to dwindle the buzz in your brain. Not much registered to you as you made your way to the door,  lost in a daydream of where to go from here only to get into the bedroom and have that daydream answered for you. 

It wasn’t just Javi’s things partially packed, it was yours too. Some sitting in the suitcase already, some thrown onto the bed as if he couldn’t decide if it was worth finding space for. You could hear the shower running with a trail of Javi’s suit scattered in pieces as if stripped off with no care for where they landed. 

You didn’t pick them up. All you did was finish what he started and folding up into your respective cases what was worth bringing home. Not many words were needed between you two really, you knew it was the end of the line, just the how was what you were missing. It felt like lead filled your veins as you worked away, this defeated pattern of leaving the country starting to eat at you, like this place only ever let you leave if it chewed you up and spit you out. 

The running water stopped, and you could hear the muffled sounds of Javi moving around in the washroom before the door opened, letting out a cloud of steam. Clutching one of his shirts in your grasp rightly, you both looked at each other, no longer was the weight on his shoulders one of burden, but instead defeat. Towel sat low on his hips with water dripping down his chest did nothing to entice you. 

Muttering your name quietly, Javi reached an arm out as he stepped towards you. Grip on his shirt tightening for a fraction of a second before dropping it, you put your hand into his and was yanked into his chest, your arms around each other as Javi’s low voice spoke into the top of your head. “None of it fucking mattered. They all got exactly what they wanted in the end.” 

“Javi,” he shushed you before tipping your chin up to look him in the eyes briefly before he captured your lips in his. Nothing more or less then a chaste kiss as you ran gentle hands over his bare skin, and his own holding your waist. Pulling way he gently ran his nose over yours, making you yearn for the gesture to be out of intimacy and not desperation. You didn’t rush him, you let him go at his own pace. 

Finally, he pulled way and nudged you to sit on the bed, as he got dressed again. “Actually catching these guys, bringing the people they hurt justice wasn’t what they wanted. The bullshit surrender was what they wanted, and that’s what they got.” 

His eyes felt hurt deep in them as he turned back to you, shirt unbuttoned on his shoulders as he looked at you, face soft and begging for help. His hands didn’t quite tremble, but they sure weren’t smooth and gentle as he started doing them up. “Everything Crosby told me matched exactly with what we found, that as long as they get to stay friends with Colombia, we shouldn’t care what happens here.” 

“Let me,” You spoke softly as you lifted his hands away so you could button his shirt up yourself. Not looking at him, only the task at hand. “So what, we were just supposed to sit back and let the country deal with it? Not care about how many people had to die along the way?” 

Tension swirled through Javi’s shoulders as you ran over them with your palms, smoothing them out as you started on his tie. Large hands once again finding a home on your waist as you worked. A deep sickness boiled in Javi’s stomach. “The country wasn’t about to do shit.” Shooting you head up suddenly, brows furrowed you saw conflict in his eyes again, but you two were past hiding things anymore. Javi was long past refusing to admit that he needed you. “Cali’s been in their pocket this entire time. Every move and nightmare they caused, they were going to ultimately get away with since that’s exactly what they bought the presidential campaign for.” 

Eyes squeezed tight in tandem with your heart. The strain in his voice cracked and whispered through guilt he didn’t deserve. “That’s why they wanted you to just play ball.” 

From the corner of your eye you saw him nod, jaw clenched tight. “I wasn’t here to make a difference, I was here to do as I was told and let the cartel funnel as much money into the government as they wanted. Cali’s in fucking jail because it looks good to the public, not because it’s what they deserve. Crosby wanted to pull the DEA off the case because if he handed it over to the Colombian-” 

“That mean’s they would look at your work and know exactly where and how not to interfere here on out.” Once again you caught him nodding in agreement. Tightening his tie professionally up to this shirt, your fingers danced on the top button still undone. Javi however picked said fingers up for a kiss before seeking your lips out once more. He nodded into it, your hands freeing to rake through his hair and pull his upper back close to you so you could hold in in your arms completely. 

It took a moment to get Javi on a level where he even understood what he was trying to say, and how we was saying it. You knew at this point that leaving again for the States was on the horizon but you had no idea just how that was about to happen. 

Suit jacket tossed gently over the dresser, Javi now was leaned up against the wall, arms crossed as he watched you keep packing. His heart warm at how much you just respected how he needs time, yet knew him so well you understood where he was going. He started talking as you finished packing. Telling you all about what he and the reporter found, what he and Crosby talked about that led this, and finally the statement about the Cali arrests he was to make. 

“I’m done after that.” Swiveling over to him, you saw the brown colour of his eyes slowly fading away by a look of remorse. “This press conference is the last thing I’m going to do for them, I can’t do this anymore. Not when all they want from me is to..too..” 

“Look pretty and play house?” There it was, a small half smile that let his dimple just barley peek out. 

Looking down Javi fought with smiling at you and the need for it to slip off his face from frustration. “Yeah.” His head bobbed as he looked down, eyes looking at the clean dress pants and pristine shoes he’s come to hate wearing. He might just leave all of his suit’s behind, let them gather dust until they find a better play actor to fill the role. Let whoever that is clean up what Javi’s become too tired to leave behind. 

“I already told him,” his chin gutting out to the hall outside where the phone sat, “that we’re coming home for good this time. He doesn’t know much. Just said he’d get it all from you anyways.” 

You both chuckled at that one, apparently Chucho wasn’t shy in informing his son that the only reason he’s up to date is because you’re the one who spills the beans when Javi’s not around. “When do we leave?” 

Javi strode across the room to the bedside table on his end, and pulled out two plane tickets. His thumb tapping at the flimsy paper before wordlessly handing them to you. “I’m sorry I’m just throwing this all at you now. I should- I should’ve talked to you beforehand.” 

The tickets weren’t even in your hand for a second before you mindlessly tossed them down. Knees climbing up onto the bed and finding their way to sit in front of Javi. His cheeks warm in your palms and his own eyes fluttered at the sensation. He mirrored the same hold on your own cheeks and brought you in for a kiss once again. 

Anytime you pulled away his lips followed, dragging you back under the softness of his touch before you lightly pushed at his chest. “I know you Javier.” Pulling his face closer into yours when he tried to shake his head no. “I do. I know you. This place...you were right. It was completely different this time, but it’s not me you should be worrying about. I wanted you to worry about you Javi. Every day I watched as you lose any faith or hope in what you were doing, but you never cared what that was doing to you. That was the worst part. Watching you always put yourself last for a cause no one else believed in.”  

Sliding from his face down to his shoulders, your palms ran over them squeezing at the tense muscles under. His breath coming out in a stutter at each press. “Quierda...”

Tickling his ear as you spoke into it. “Let someone take care of you for a change Javier.” With a harsher press against his muscles, his head dropped somewhat into your neck. Nodding, you finally smiled and pulled him into your chest. “Lay down for me, baby.” 

Undoing the buttons you just did, Javi pulled at his tie until you slid it off his neck before dragging the sleeves of his shirt down his arms. It barley touched his ground before you traced his skin all the way from the edge of his pants, up his stomach and to his neck. Once again pulling him to the bed and laying him face down as you made room beside the packing taking up the other side of the bed. 

Gently straddling his waist, your hands found a gentle return to his shoulder blades. “We have plenty of time, baby. I just want you to relax for me.” It wasn’t long before the press into his back muscles elicited muffled groans. 

Hands outstretched above his head grasping a the sheets the deeper you dug, all the while whispering quiet praises at how good he’s doing, meaning over him to press a kiss to his cheek and mutter into his ear how good he is. 

Javi writhed into the bed below him so slow you wouldn’t have noticed if not for your hips settled nicely below his ass. Maybe it would have turned you on more, the pleasure Javi was feeling if your heart wasn’t so heavy. Had you not done enough for him? Was there anymore you could have done to ease his pain? 

Praises and sweet little comforts spilled from your mouth the more you felt him relaxing under your finger tips as your guilt grew. Being back home wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t last time and it certainly wasn’t about to get any easier leaving for good. You could feel the dropping confidence in your own dedication as you debated just how much you had to make up to him once you get back to Texas. 

Javi’s little groans of your name swept you back into the moment, leaving a soft smile in it’s wake. You didn’t know how long you two were there. More than once Javi almost fell asleep, but then you’d hit a sensitive area and a moan would snap him right back. 

You kept him there for as long as you could get away with, but ultimately he had a press conference to get too, and a final resignation to his superiors. He’d later tell you he took care of your end of things, and a cheeky little grin as he reminded you that he guessed your boss would be okay with you not coming back. 

This time you both worked in peace getting him ready again. You both knew there was no point in you watching it all go down. You didn’t need to see it live to know where this was coming from. You instead stood with your hands pressed against his chest near the door. “I’m proud of you, Javier. Not just for this, for everything.” One hand trickled up to his cheek and was met with his warm hand encompassing yours. “Even if you’re not there yet yourself, I always will be.” 

You wanted to say it, but it wasn’t the time. It would be selfish to say it now when he had more important things than you to focus on. It seemed backwards that you had more anxiety about him resigning than he did. Maybe it was because you knew what was coming next. Javi being out permanently, and knowing what state the government is treating drug cartels with, it’s going to eat at him slowly. 

Javi told you what Stechner said to him that day he had to help show those senators what ended up being a staged lab. That no one cared as deeply about this as he did, but how everyone looked at it as a negative. It pissed you off than and now it upsets you. Javi cared about the people, the ones hurt by their violence, the lives ruined with the devastating drugs they pedal, and how only money was their endgame on either side. He didn’t deserve this, Javi deserved better. 

Maybe Steve was right to leave Colombia for good when he did. You hadn’t spoken to him or Connie, unwilling to lie about how badly the Cali case was going, you suspected Javi felt the same way. You’d entertain the idea later, back when you were settled for good in Texas. Before dating you joked to Javi that when you were done you’d move back North to the cold states, but that plan was long gone. 

You didn’t have much of anyone, so you’d stay where you were needed. By Javi’s side for as long as he needed it. 

He had given you a needy kiss before he left. Pulling you back to his lips every time you even thought about pulling away. Your hands holding tight onto his neck as to not muck up his appearance again. He had pulled away only when you were lightheaded, and pleaded with you not to watch the press conference. “I know it’s selfish to ask, I just...I don’t want you dealing with this shit anymore than you already have.” 

You pressed one last kiss to his nose and than his cheek. “Say that about yourself first and maybe we can talk about what I shouldn’t be dealing with.” 

Chucho has called not long after when you presumed it was over. Neither of you bothering to greet one another, he got right to the point he worried about most. “How is he?” 

You smiled to yourself, “Depends, do you want what I’d say or what Javi’s going to tell you?” Chucho chuckled deep on the other end, and you responded anyways. “He hurts, Chucho. The way he sees it, its his fault the government doesn’t care about his efforts. Like for some reason if he couldn’t get them to care than he failed these people..I don’t know how long it’s gonna take to shake that.” 

Humming in thought, you heard him rubbing at his face, likely leaned somewhat against the kitchen wall very much in the kind of stance Javi took when frustrated. “Everyone here couldn’t care less about the details, all they saw was Escobar was gone and now Cali’s in jail. They don’t give a shit how complicated the bureaucracy is, they just see him as a hero.” 

“Which he hates.” You saw how distant he became anytime that word was directed towards him. Eventually he stopped even trying to correct people about if he was there when Escobar died. They didn’t care, he was apart of something trying to do good and that’s what they cared about. It would take more to convince Javi of that. 

“Javier’s going to need your support more than ever. Every day or two, I have boats passing by the Ranch going into Mexico. Crates, guns you name it they’re bringing it over. I don’t know if they’ve talked about it to him at all, but if they can drag him into that mess they will.” There was a finality in his tone that you both understood. 

Colombia pulled Javi back in and is now spitting him out in venom, whatever mess has started to gain traction in Mexico would strip away whatever you had managed to put back together. Neither of you were sure his spirit would survive that. 

You both talked a while longer, Chucho laying out a few options for you once you get back. Detailing a share you’d receive if it was the ranch you wanted to work with them, or that he’s asked around about some local jobs he can put a word for you in if you wanted something less back breaking. Honestly you weren’t sure yet. It was becoming a bad habit of abandoning your job in Colombia for Texas with no plan of the future. 

“Maybe when Javi’s a little more okay. I don’t know how much leaving for 8 hours a day will help whatever demon’s he’s coming home with. I mean, he’s pretty much tried to keep me at the embassy for as long as possible so he always knows where I am that’s safe. And with the boats...” Your hand was curling up the phone cord around your finger over and over as your bottom lip was nibbled at in anxiety. Luckily Chucho understood. Telling you he’d give you better training in handling the animals so you’d be comfortable, and he left it at that. 

Eventually the silence in the apartment became too much. You needed noise, you needed air. Sitting off to the side of the apartment complex’s front steps you took in the busy street going about it’s day. You were going to miss this terribly, the interesting and good people you’ve met and watching the lives of the people who simply wanted the promise of a safer life, who you now knew wouldn’t be delivered on. 

Hugging your knees, you smiled shortly at the group of young boys running down the street, only stopping to jump on each other and wrestle around until someone scolded them to stop. Images flashing through you of the same scene, only with Javier there to settle them down. Maybe the dream of one of the boys being picked up in his arms the call of “dad”, being cried out in laughter. 

You didn’t know if Javi wanted that either. You two had never said it to one another, sometimes you were sure you felt it from him and you desperately hoped he felt it from you. But it was never spoken out loud, how you both felt. By the time either of you realized it, Javier was sent home on a plane and nothing between then and now had felt right to unleash on him. 

You wanted him to feel it back though, and judging by the bright eyed look as he approached the stairs, a flicker of hope burned in your heart that it wasn’t just a fantasy. He called your name and scooped you up in his arms as soon as you stood. 

Pressing his lips to yours without a care of who could be watching, he had to blindly reach out to steady you as the force almost knocked you backwards. Javi poured too much to comprehend into his kiss, so your arms simply wound around his body and pulled him to you. By the time he pulled back, he rubbed his nose down the length of yours. “Their pissed, but it’s done.” He shook his head when you went to ask him about it, only guiding you inside quietly. “Let’s just get home first, okay?” 

For the first real time, this place wasn’t your home anymore. 

The time in the airport was a refreshing facade. You both sat at a table with food and a drink, “Should have just given him my wallet for what he was asking.” He plunked both your bottles onto the table, and all but threw himself onto the opposite chair with an oof. 

Taking a sip, Javi smirked at the mild grimace you gave your drink with an audible gulp. “You’d think he’d at least be able to afford a fridge at this point.” It didn’t fail to catch your notice that the vendor could be heard yelling at another customer trying to bargain the price. 

Mediocre food followed, and for a moment it felt like you were a normal couple leaving from holiday. Not a soul looked at either of you, no one knew nor cared about the crushing weight of failure emanating from your souls.  At times you felt Javi’s food purposely collide with yours, prompting you to gently bump back.

After a comfortable silence held for a while, Javi smashed that feeling with something you hadn’t even considered. “Are you sure you want to stay? With us in Laredo I mean. You don’t need to drag yourself anywhere I go just because...” 

Tilting your head you tried to catch his deep brown eyes that evaded your own until he couldn’t hide. Those eyes so large and so loud spoken, matching the softness of his handsome features in a sad harmony. “Because of what?” You were soft spoken, trying to gently prompt him to open up without needing help with the words. 

He sighed, looking at his hands for a second before one reached out to hold yours closest to the middle of the table. “Just...don’t feel shackled down to me just because I need you..” His eyes closed before back up to face you properly, a warmth flooding them that filled you with a matching feeling. “If you need distance, I don’t want you to feel..trapped.” 

His face morphed into slight confusion as you chuckled breathily, before leaning over the table to press your lips against his, the taste of cheap booze mixing together. “You don’t need me, Javi. You’re strong enough, good enough to make it on your own.” 

He hesitated but you mimicked what he did to you in times of uncertainty. Your fingers gently pulling his chin towards you and nudging your nose against his. “But you shouldn’t have to be alone, Javier. That’s what matters. You deserve to be loved, and I don’t want to be anywhere except at your side so I can give that to you.” 

Javi gripped the back of your neck as he pushed back lovingly. “I told you, you mean everything to me mi amor. I just don’t want you to feel obligated-” 

“I don’t feel obligated to anything except throwing out this shit drink.” He laughed against you, so close your lips brushed one another as you joined. “We’re in this together. As long as you’ll have me.” 

The sound of your flight being yelled over the loud speaker broke you apart. Javi rolling his shoulders as he stood up, grabbing both of your things to throw out. “As long as I’ll have you.” 

He didn’t hide the playful roll of his eyes as he muttered to himself as he walked to and from the garbage. Not skipping a beat to pull your bag up onto your shoulder and grabbing his own. His hand grabbing one of yours and bringing it up to his face. “The only way I’d want to get rid of you is if you go back to calling me the hillbilly instead of Murphy.” 

His face fell even more amused as yours lifted in a mysterious joy. “I don’t know, he’s not the one in flannel shirts, drudging mud into the house from working on a ranch all day.” 

This time you laughed out loud as he muttered to himself annoyed once again, turning back to you with a playful glare of his own before he pushed you forward at the small of your back. “Still just can’t behave can you, quierda?” 

You turned your head back to look at him, “What are you going to do about it, Peña?” It’s a long flight home, plenty of time to teach me a lesson.” You almost let out a yelp as he slapped your ass. The sound loud enough to be heard but Javi putting his body behind you enough to hide his actions, but not so close that he couldn’t look down to watch your ass jiggling from the force with a subtle turned on look. 

Leaning into your ear his voice was lighter than it had been for days. “Save it for when I have you in my bed. I’ll need plenty of room what I have in store for you.” 

Instead of a lustful one, you and Javi looked at the other with a soft gaze, admiration flooding both of your eyes. You met one another at the same time for a kiss, Javi using the closeness to wrap his arm around your waist and direct you forward again. “Time to go home, quierda.” 

As you walked, your head leaned to the side on his shoulder. Standing in the final queue, you didn’t even look at him as it slipped from your mouth, but once it was out you didn’t feel the impending regret you worried so much about. “I love you, Javier.” 

All you felt was a press of his lips to the top of your head. “I love you, mi amor.” 

Going home for the final time was going to be a new set of trials and tribulations for Javier, but this time you were better equipped to handle it, a better understanding of how to support him. A head start on the conflicted anger and guilt when he sees those boats, those guns, the drugs into Mexico for the first time. 

Whatever pain was ahead, you embraced it. 

[mikaelao28]

El sabor del rojo

Capítulo 1

Advertencia: el contenido de este capítulo es algo violento al desarrollarse en un ambiente de guerra. Trato de no tomar un rumbo demasiado explícito con respecto a la violencia, pero de todas formas se mencionan muertes, armas y contenido violento.

Una brutal batalla se libraba a las puertas de la capital de Adnis y que, bajo la centenaria promesa grabada en piedra acerca de que los dragones algún día retornarían a su hogar, tu nación llevaba mucho tiempo enfrentando cada intento de los Ignicianos por recuperar sus tierras. Décadas de guerra y disputas entre ambas razas los llevó a un perpetuo y sangriento enfrentamiento desde antes que te fuera otorgado tan alto grado militar como comandante del ejército. Te criaste con el propósito de ser la más letal guerrera y meticulosa estratega, por lo tanto conocías las historias de cada enfrentamiento, desde tu bisabuelo hasta tu padre que combatieron con honor, y ahora te tocaba a ti ser el escudo de tu pueblo y la espada de tu ejército, ser el arma que concluyera tan trágico conflicto si los dioses te permitían tal oportunidad.

La prevista invasión del sangriento Ejército Rojo llevaba kilómetros de avance en dirección a la ciudad amurallada de Kaliz, en donde -en un futuro cercano- el soberano de Adnis se hallaría de rodillas ante el emperador dragón y conquistador de las ardientes tierras del sur. Tal cómo en el pasado los dragones habían jurado inundados por el rencor hacia los humanos, así miles de soldados de un aspecto similar al humano -exceptuando por el par de cuernos que brotaban de sus cabezas, colmillos afilados, garras en sus manos y largas colas- marchaban sobre la tierra lodosa en dirección a la capital, guiados por el mismo emperador. Sus armaduras parecían arder como una capa de burbujeante magma que lucía gruesa y pesada, un material que ellos llevaban siglos explotando de la continua corriente de lava de uno de los tantos volcanes que se elevaban a lo largo de las costas en las tierras a las que fueron exiliados.

Pueblos habían sido arrasados por el miedo, mas no consumidos por la violencia y ni la sangre a pesar de que los invasores eran etiquetados por crueles y sanguinarios, en realidad el emperador, quién iba a la cabeza de las tropas, dejaba muy en claro a sus soldados que no toleraría la matanza de civiles, aunque sus métodos en el campo de batalla contra los soldados adnianos fueran más que capaces de implantar pesadillas en los más fríos combatientes. Siendo piadoso con los pobres inocentes que se veían afectados por las consecuencias de la guerra no lo hacía parecer un hombre tan despiadado, pero cuando entraba en acción su cuerpo parecía conocer cada aspecto de la guerra al punto de ser él mismo la personificación de la violencia.

Los Rojos ya habían acabado con la primera línea de soldados Adnianos que trataron de enfrentarlos sobre la frontera hasta no dejar más que sus cadáveres ahogados en su propia sangre, chamuscados o con los cuervos devorándoles las entrañas. Ahora ellos se encontraban frente a frente con el ejército real, azotando sus lanzas contra el suelo en un grito de guerra que pretendía helar cada hueso en los soldados humanos, y estos que mantenían sus escudos plateados y finamente forjados levantados contra sus invasores. Allí estabas tú, apretando tu mano derecha alrededor de la empuñadura de tú espada y sosteniendo en la izquierda tu escudo mientras lo observabas a él, Miguel O´Hara, consciente de que alguno de los dos iba a morir ese día.

Había cierta belleza en el movimiento sinuoso de su cuerpo al blandir la espada con tal naturalidad, resultando sencillo asumir que el arma sólo era una extensión más de su cuerpo. Su espada serpentea en el aire con una increíble velocidad para devastar carne y hueso con fuertes tajos, con una calculada frialdad en la batalla como si cada enemigo hubiera sido planeado al igual que su manera para acabar con ellos. Es enfermizamente hermoso verlo y te odiabas por eso, pues él estaba matando a tus soldados. No puedes evitar admirarlo a lo lejos a pesar de que también te sumes en la ferocidad del combate, te cubres con tu escudo ante cada ataque y azotas con tu espada a las armaduras rojas con negro en las zonas precisas para que cedan y así puedas atravesarlas hasta arrancarles un último respiro a sus portadores. Gruñes con cada golpe que te empuja queriendo tumbarte al suelo. Tus pies resbalan en la tierra mojada hecha barro, pero no permites que los impactos te derriben o que te hagan caer, simplemente continuas de forma implacable hasta que tus pulmones arden ante la asfixia del campo de batalla y tu cuerpo clama una pronta victoria para conseguir algo de descanso. Y, aunque eres letal, ya has sido herida en tu hombro izquierdo de modo que duele al alzar tu escudo, también te sientes sangrando levemente en tu cuello y en tus mejillas. Todo eso te genera una idea en la cabeza: ellos apuntan a matar. No a hacerte sufrir, sino a acabar completamente con todo lo que se les atraviese.

La lluvía empapa tu cuerpo durante violentos minutos que se sienten como horas, el olor de la sangre se mezcla con el sudor, la tierra y el acero, el sabor metálico de la sangre llena tu paladar, el sonido de las armaduras al chocar parece aturdir tus oídos a momentos pero sigues escuchando cada grito de dolor y suplica de los muertos, tu cálido aliento se congela en el aire con cada respiración agitada que se te escapa de la boca y el agua que pende de tus pestañas empaña tu vista. Ambos luchan hasta que, como si estuvieran en un gran salón en donde los ostentosos atuendos de gala oscilan con cada vuelta mientras danzan con otros tantos para que sus manos se encuentren en el frenético vals de su predestinado encuentro, sus espadas finalmente se encuentran, retumban al chocar, se empujan y tratan de dominar. La piel canela del emperador de los dragones parece brillar con cada gota de agua que resbala por su rostro hasta perderse por su cuello y entre su ropa, algunos mechones rebeldes de su cabello se le pegan a la frente, sus labios algo agrietados por los maltratos del clima y del combate permanecen levemente abiertos para tomar aire aunque él no parezca agitado en lo más mínimo, las cejas ligeramente fruncidas y, dios, esa intensa mirada de iris rojos como la sangre salpicada en su mejilla logran por unos instantes atraparte hasta hacerte titubear. Te estarías mintiendo al no admitir lo atractivo que es, pero te niegas rotundamente a fijarte en esos detalles cuando tu propia vida depende de tu concentración en batalla.

Fue solo un segundo de distracción y aún así él lo notó para usarlo a su favor. De un movimiento ágil, la larga y poderosa cola de dragón que sobresale de su espalda baja te azota las piernas y te hace caer en seco contra el suelo. Pierdes el aire, pero tus reflejos te permiten cubrirte con tu escudo antes de que la espada del hombre te atraviese la garganta. “Demonios”, jadeas exhausta y adolorida por el punzante dolor de la herida en tu hombro al tener que resistir las violentas embestidas del dragón contra tu escudo. Todo tu cuerpo arde de cansancio. Esa intensa mirada te escudriña con frialdad antes de que su poderoso cuerpo, casi dos veces más grande que tú, te mantenga contra el suelo. Te ve a los ojos de manera en que su cabeza permanece erguida hacia arriba pero su mirada hacia abajo, quizás tomándote por inferior. No puedes permitirte eso ¿No es así? Es una ofensa para tu ego y para tu propio esfuerzo. Para tu padre y para todo lo que llevas protegiendo desde hace años.

Sueltas un grito exasperado antes de aprovechar lo resbaloso de la tierra y deslizarte debajo de él, perdiendo tu escudo en el proceso, pero a fin de cuentas libre de su peso. Tratas de herirlo en los tendones de sus tobillos con tu espada y una pequeña daga que desenvainas de tu cinturón para desestabilizarlo y logras sentir tus armas atravesando su carne. Con las pocas fuerzas que conseguiste te levantas y luego te lanzas encima de Miguel para atacarlo con tu espada directamente en su nuca. Él se dió rápidamente la vuelta y atrapó la espada con la palma de su mano, acción que logró hacerlo sangrar un poco. “Nada mal, humana”. Escuchaste por primera vez su voz y algo tembló en ti. Esa sensación no duró mucho hasta que el metal de tu arma simplemente comenzó a pintarse de rojo ante un sorprendente calor hasta derretirse. Él la había derretido. No solo eso, se había levantado como si las heridas en sus tendones no representaran el más pequeño problema.

¿Qué más podías hacer contra el hombre que apenas ha recibido daño alguno durante toda su contienda? Permaneces estática unos segundos antes de dar un rápido vistazo a tu alrededor; tus soldados masacrados contra los números del Ejército Rojo. Tu derrota es inevitable, pero de alguna forma permaneces en pie, dando tu vida para proteger un reino destinado a perecer. Persistes dolorosamente, aferrándote con uñas y dientes a la esperanza de acabar con aquel hombre que ahora parece estar más dispuesto a jugar contigo que a matarte rápidamente. Y él que ahora sonríe ampliamente al esquivar cada ataque que le lanzas, cada puño y cada golpe, quien no dudaría en volver a tenerte contra el suelo bajo todo su peso sólo para escuchar una vez más tu voz exclamando con cansancio que no vas a rendirte. Sin duda eso le divierte, sobre todo viniendo de una mujer en pleno combate cuando estuvo siempre acostumbrado a plantear a las mujeres ajenas a ese ambiente.

Tu mirada arde como una llama inextinguible a pesar de sentirte humillada por tu contrincante. Rasguñas su rostro casi para arrancarle la piel mientras él mantiene su enorme mano contra tu cuello, asfixiándote lentamente. Te quedas sin aire poco a poco hasta caer inconsciente y es su sonrisa, esos colmillos largos y afilados, lo último que ves.

[onlymexico]

La primera mujer que se tituló en una profesión en América Latina fue una dentista mexicana: Margarita Chorné y Salazar.

Margarita Chorné y Salazar, Nació el 22 de febrero de 1864, fue hija de Agustín Chorné, practicante de la orfebrería y la “dentistería” quien llegó a ser uno de los más famosos dentistas de la ciudad. Él era descendiente de franceses, la madre de Margarita fue doña Paz Salazar, dedicada al hogar. Vivían en el barrio de San Miguel en el centro histórico de la ciudad de México, eran una familia de posición social media-alta.

Margarita al igual que sus hermanas, aprendió a leer y escribir, recibieron clases de música, en el colegio aprendieron el catecismo, la aritmética, geografía, francés, y labores propias de mujeres como tejido de gancho y bordado de punto de cruz. Pero al parecer Margarita no le encontró el gusto a estas labores ni le gustaba del todo las reuniones femeninas que no le satisfacían; lo que Margarita disfrutaba era encerrarse durante horas en la biblioteca de su padre y aprender de sus libros, también le gustaba acompañarlo a los conciertos y funciones de ópera.

Observando el trabajo de su padre, Margarita empezó a conocer y a practicar el arte de la orfebrería y también gustaba de ayudar a su padre cuando tenía trabajo de dentista, de igual manera fue ayudante de su hermano mayor una vez que éste se convirtió en dentista. Había para Margarita muchas oportunidades de adquirir el conocimiento para llegar a ser una buena dentista, pues no tan sólo era limitado el número de dentistas en esa época sino que también en aquellos tiempos, era una loable costumbre de los dentistas y médicos que de verdad amaban su profesión y veían en ella no sólo una profesión con la cual ganarse la vida, sino una vocación de servicio al prójimo, atender gratuitamente a los pobres que no podían pagar su consulta pero que la necesitaban igual que los ricos, dedicando para ellos estos buenos médicos un día a la semana u horas extras cuando la urgencia lo ameritaba.

Con los conocimientos y la práctica que Margarita había obtenido siendo asistente tanto de su padre como de su hermano, un día decidió buscar el reconocimiento de los estudios realizados en su casa y conseguir el título oficial para ejercer como dentista en la ciudad de México.

Fue en el antiguo Colegio de Medicina, a los 21 años de edad, que Margarita tendría que demostrar que sabía el oficio, que dominaba satisfactoriamente el conocimiento fisiológico, anatómico y tecnológico y que podría ejercer al igual que lo hacía cualquier dentista ya titulado.

Para conseguir ese anhelado título, Margarita consiguió una carta de un dentista profesional que avaló sus conocimientos, así mismo tuvo que presentar cartas de tres personas de reconocida solvencia moral que certificaran que Margarita era una persona decente y cristiana. Margarita tuvo que pagar 100 pesos, que era el costo del examen (una cantidad por cierto muy elevada ya que la extracción de una muela en ese entonces costaba aproximadamente un peso)

Ante la gran expectación que seguramente se dio en esa época de que una mujer pidiera recibir el título profesional de dentista, Margarita se presentó ante el jurado y ante ellos citó de memoria los últimos tratados dentísticos en inglés, español y francés. Así pues, fue en la época porfirista cuando el 1 de febrero de 1886, fecha memorable, la Junta Directiva de Instrucción Pública del Distrito Federal emitió el primer título profesional de dentista a una mujer en América Latina, a Margarita Chorné y Salazar. Un año después otra notable mujer mexicana recibiría su doctorado en medicina, la primera mujer mexicana en obtenerlo, ella era Matilde Montoya.

En 1906, Margarita Chorné y Salazar, orgullosamente mexicana, recibió la noticia de que la embajada de Francia le entregó la Cruz al Mérito y en 1908 por parte del Institut du Midi en Tolouse, Francia, un diploma y una medalla en reconocimiento por ser la primera mujer titulada en una profesión independiente en Latinoamérica.

Según un informe de la Historia de la Odontología, Margarita fue la primera dentista en dedicarse a la cirugía y en aplicar el éter en la anestesia general.

Margarita Chorné se casó y ejerció su carrera durante aproximadamente cuatro décadas, con una vida longeva y dedicada al servicio de los demás, murió en 1962, a los 98 años de edad.

Actualmente existe el premio “Doctora Margarita Chorné y Salazar” que lo otorga la Facultad de Odontología de la UNAM y en México hay un Centro de Salud que lleva su nombre.

[the-angsty-fics-girl]

FOTOGRAMAS DE OTRO SER.

Hola! Hace mucho tiempo que no usaba esta cuenta y la verdad es que hoy me ha venido la inspiración y se me ha ocurrido escribir algo dramático para Miguel O'Hara 😼 así que aquí va el fanfic (en Español).

Warnings: Angst. Menciones de mentiras/engaños.

Personajes: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Género usado: femenino.

Y la miró, y la analizó, en busca del más mínimo resquicio por el que encontrar la que una vez fue su mujer. Pero ella tenía una mirada de inocencia, una que aún no había sido turbada por los errores de su marido, una que desconocía su verdadera identidad y en la que delante de sí se posaba un hombre apuesto en quien poder confiar, a diferencia de la original, que había sido rota incontables veces por él mismo, que había sido destruída por años de engaño y con incontables cicatrices de numerosas mentiras que adornaban su frágil corazón.

Tenía la oportunidad de enmendar sus erros y empezar de nuevo pero, ¿lo iba a hacer? ¿Que implicaría? Todo lo que había jurado y por lo que había trabajado, desaparecería delante de sí, engullidos por un capricho de su corazón, que sabía que sólo sería satisfecho de manera temporal.

Miguel suspiró, luchando para no dejar escapar las lágrimas que amenzaban con nublar su mirada. "Que injusta es la vida." pensó. Y dando media vuelta sobre sus propios pasos abandonó el lugar, con un corazón un poco más partido que cuando gozó cruzar el portal.

___________________________________________

Espero que os haya gustado y si tenéis más ideas o cualquier cosa me podéis dejar un comentario o mandarme un chat/ask <3

Descansad mucho!

[fucktalunyafucktugal]

🤣🤣🤣 NOMBRES CON APELLIDOS GRACIOSOS Y ORIGINALES 🤣🤣🤣

PUEDEN AÑADIR LOS QUE CONOZCAN 🤣🤣🤣 :

Luz Cuesta Mogollón

Grato Amor Jurado

Antonio Arrimadas Piernas

Eva Fina Segura

José de la Polla

Rosario del Cura Sacristán

Dolores Pecho Barba

Ana Púlpito Salido

Alfonso Seisdedos Pies Planos

José Sin Mayordomo

Dolores Fuertes de Barriga

Miguel Marco Gol

Juan Estan Camino

Luis Gordo de Día

Natividad Belén Santamaría

Fermín Gran Larga

Susana Braga Palomino

Emiliano Salido del Pozo

Amparo Loro Raro

Perfecto Ladrón Honrado

Florentina Caldito Blanco

Martín Cabezón

Rafael Nieto de Dios

Elvia Ratón Calvo

Aitor Menta

Pere Gil

Rey Follador

Armando Bronca Segura

Domingo Díaz Festivo

Román Calavera Calva

Rosa Cortada del Rosal

Castro Mascota

Sonia Vieja Alegre

Pascual Conejo Enamorado

Juan Macho Seco

Antonio Comino Grande

Ana Mier de Cilla

Francisco Tenedor Cuadrado

Eusebia Tetas Planas

[herederosdelkaos]

Antología de poesía contemporánea. Compilación - 105 autores (2006-2023)

Descarga desde Telegram

Descarga desde Google Drive

Apps requeridas para acceder: Telegram o Google Drive, y "Lithium: lector ePub". Todos los archivos disponibles en formato (EPUB) en Herederos del Kaos (canal telegram).

©Autores: Daniel Frini, Alberto Jiménez Ure, Nieves Jurado, Milton Ordóñez, Shabely Botello, Wafi Salih, Pablo López, Roberto Garcés Marrero, Leopoldo Reinhard Resch, José Alberto Capaverde, Francisco J. Barata Bausach, Susana Medina, Adrián "fino" Sosa, David Crauley, Jordi Tauler Vaillet, José Luis Regojo, Federico Ambesi, Juan Benítez, Alex Armega, Sebastián Trujillo,, Gabriel Valdovinos Vázquez, Juan Luis Henares, Miguel Ángel Acquesta, Juan Carlos Vásquez, Ludim Cervantes, Rita Morrigan, Carlos Almira Picazo, J.R. Spinoza, Moisés Cárdenas, Jacqueline Campos, Mario Flores, Eduardo Omar Honey, Claude Nogueras, Alberto Quero, Pilar Rezzano, Mirza Patricia Mendoza, Caroline Cruz, Alberto Juárez Vivas, Rodrigo Miguel Quintero, Montserrat López Alsina, Luna del Castillo, Guillermo Martínez, Víctor C. Drax, Lucía Scosceria de Cañellas, Everardo Gómez, Edinson Martínez, Mario Andrés Arcos, Rolando Revagliatti, Sebastián Abdala, Alina Kummerfeldt, Magdalena Páez Amador.

©Antología de narrativa contemporánea es una publicación sin fines de lucro. Su distribución a través de terceros es completamente libre, siempre y cuando no se haga un uso comercial del libro y se citen correctamente sus fuentes."

***

[poemassemanales]

CAPITULO XI: JOSÉ MILLÁN-ASTRAY

SU ENEMIGO

Durante una visita a la Italia fascista de 1938 un general franquista le preguntó al poeta, también franquista, Pemán: “¿Es verdad que yo me parezco a Gabriel D´Annunzio?” El poeta, tan adulador y tan friki como el militar, le respondió: “No dudo de que su calva de bóveda renacentista y su ojo tuerto le aproximan bastante a usted, mi general, a la figura física del poeta”. El militar era nuestro personaje de hoy: JOSÉ MILLÁN-ASTRAY.

 José Millán-Astray nació en La Coruña en 1879 y falleció en Madrid en 1954. Su trayectoria militar es conocida: participó en la guerra de Filipinas y en la de África, fue cofundador de la Legión Española y sufrió varias heridas de guerra que lo situaron en similitud con el “medio hombre” Blas de Lezo, aunque personalmente, más que con este héroe de la Armada española del siglo XVIII, lo identifico con aquel friki Caballero Negro de los Monty Pythom que, inasequible al desaliento, va perdiendo sus extremidades una tras otra y continua con intenciones de seguir luchando.

En 1936 se adhiere al golpe de estado y gracias a su amistad con Franco es nombrado jefe de la Oficina de Prensa y Propaganda teniendo como subalterno a otro gran friki: Ernesto Giménez Caballero. En Octubre de ese año tuvo lugar el famoso y conocido por todos episodio en la Universidad de Salamanca que lo enfrentó al Rector de la misma, don Miguel de Unamuno. No parece que su gestión fuese del todo eficaz y pocos meses después es cesado. Florence Farmborough en La vida y la gente de la España Nacional describe muy bien ese ambiente de los meses iniciales de la guerra.

Durante esos meses fundó junto a otros colaboradores como Dionisio Ridruejo, Radio Nacional de España. Tras la guerra siguió a las órdenes de su Caudillo como Procurador en las Cortes franquistas durante 4 legislaturas y continuó dirigiendo el Cuerpo de Mutilados de Guerra.

Su vida privada fue un auténtico folletín. En 1906 se casó con una señora con la que nunca consumó el matrimonio ya que ella había jurado votos de castidad perpetuos. En 1941 comienza una relación con una prima de Ortega y Gasset. Cuando esta queda embarazada huyen a Portugal ya que en España no había forma de legalizar su relación. Tras la orden de su jefe y caudillo regresa a Madrid junto a su esposa, aunque sigue manteniendo de forma discreta la nueva relación de la que en 1942 nació su hija de nombre tan adecuado como Peregrina. (Alguna crónica rosa abunda en la posible relación del tullido militar con la cantante Celia Gámez. Lo que sí fue una realidad es que el general fue el padrino de boda de la citada estrella del franquismo y del “Ya hemos pasao”).

Entre sus “hazañas” destaca un episodio en 1950 con el entonces Presidente del Real Madrid, Santiago Bernabéu. Al parecer existía una cierta animadversión entre el tullido general de fe falangista y franquista acérrimo y el presidente madridista, confeso monárquico y seguidor de don Juan de Borbón, el Jefe de la casa real española. Millán Astray disfrutaba junto a su ayudante, de dos localidades en un lugar privilegiado del estadio del Madrid, el llamado “palco de invierno”. A la altura de 1950 en un partido de Liga, Real Madrid contra Español, se presentaron en el palco el Embajador de Argentina junto a sus esposa. El general saludó a ambos con especial atención a la esposa del diplomático, señora con antecedentes artísticos y de “buen ver” según las crónicas. El héroe franquista obsequió a la señora con dos señalados ósculos -aunque hay quien habla incluso de “algo más”- lo que se desencadenó la furia del embajador y decidió a Bernabéu poner fin a la presencia en los partidos del necrofílico general. El encontronazo fue sonado y el militar terminó retando a duelo a pistola al madridista, quien aceptó el reto. Al final la intervención del todopoderoso dictador, enterado de los hechos, por medio del general Muñoz Grandes hizo que se olvidara el incidente, aunque Millán Astray no volvió a sentarse en el palco del estadio madridista.

Políticamente era un claro admirador de Mussolini y de Hitler. La adulación a Franco llegó a límites insospechados sin pudor alguno, usando y abusando del ditirambo más casposo. En su carrera “intelectual” se le conocen lemas tan profundos como “¡Viva la muerte!” y “¡A mí la Legión!”.

De su trayectoria como conferenciante y mitinero podemos destacar las siguientes perlas:

 “Decidme, soldados que habéis nacido en España y que estáis en el bando rojo: ¡Qué sentís, los que tengan honra y vergüenza, al ver a esas mujeres jóvenes con traje de mecánico y que, al descorrer la cremallera, quedan desnudas por completo y enseñan todo lo que el pudor de la mujer prohíbe!”.

“La civilización occidental sufre, pero ya se siente arrepentida. Vive ahora dentro de la expiación de un purgatorio, elevando sus ojos hacia el Duce, que cada día se va convirtiendo en símbolo, en puro mito, y asciende su mirada hacia Hitler, que como un vikingo rubio, sostiene férreamente las bóvedas del orden nuevo y contempla ilusionada al caudillo Franco. Porque los tres caudillos juntos son quienes representan hoy la voluntad y la verdad de Dios”.

“Pleno de emoción, escribo estas líneas, sintiéndome orgulloso de ser español y de ser un soldado que está a las órdenes de Franco”.

“Franco es enviado de Dios como conductor para liberación y engrandecimiento de España (…). Su inteligencia es clarísima, su juicio exacto y atinado, su valor personal es representativo de la bravura ante el peligro y ante las situaciones que exigen determinación, sea mediata o inmediata; no vacila y acierta siempre, su cultura técnico-profesional es completa”.

“España pronto tendrá una victoria y será una merecida victoria fascista. Fascismo, nacionalismo y falangismo son en el fondo la misma cosa”.

“En las tierras yermas, convertidas en vergel por el esfuerzo titánico del teutón, también por el dedo surgió Hitler, el Führer. Rompe las cadenas que querían aprisionar a un pueblo guerrero desde que nació. Reúne también en apretado haz a los alemanes, que son todos soldados ante el altar de la Patria y el grito de la Independencia. Y comienza la gran batalla. Y Alemania, colocada en el corazón de Europa, se convierte en colosal fortaleza inabordable”.

“España, cual Italia, cual Alemania, por ser un pueblo con hombres con todas las condiciones de los hombres, con cuerpo duro y alma pura, busca entre ellos mismos su Führer y su Duce, y encuentran aquel joven gallego que nació al pie de las montañas, desafiando las furiosas olas del atlántico. Y al contemplar su historia, al ver su fortaleza, al mirar a sus ojos claros y limpios, le dice en clamor unánime: Tú eres el caudillo. nosotros, detrás, y tú nos alineas. ¡Llévanos a la batalla, conducidos por tu genio guerrero, por tu energía, por tu acierto, por tu fortuna! ¡Echemos de nuestro suelo al enemigo! ¡Formemos también nuestro Ejército español, y tú, puesto al frente, levantarás tu espada victoriosa, mirando a oriente, y saludarás al Duce y al Führer ya que tú eres el caudillo!”.

 “Franco, el que trabaja catorce y a veces veinte horas diarias para conducir la guerra y conducir a la Nación y regir el Estado, ya ha decretado: ningún español pasará hambre mientras los demás no la pasen. El que pase hambre, que se dirija a su alcalde, y le diga: Mis hijos y yo pasamos hambre y Franco lo ha prohibido. ¡Danos de comer!”.

  (Recientemente una calle de Madrid a la que se le retiró su nombre en acatamiento de la Ley de Memoria Histórica fue de nuevo rotulada General Millán-Astray en base a la sentencia de un juez que decía: “No existen pruebas suficientes de que el protagonista participara en la sublevación militar, ni tuviera participación alguna en las acciones bélicas durante la Guerra Civil, ni en la represión de la Dictadura”. Pregunta: ¿Se leyó el juez de marras estas profundas reflexiones del mutilado general?).

12/5/2023

[manifiestotamaulipas]

Realizan Concurso de Altares de Preescolar y Maternal

#RíoBravo #Tamaulipas. -Realizan Concurso de Altares de Preescolar y Maternal

Río Bravo, Tamaulipas.-El Alcalde, el Lic. Miguel Angel Almaraz Maldonado, asistió al Colegio Hellen Keller como jurado en el Concurso de Altares de Preescolar y Maternal. Un gran reconocimiento a quienes nos inspiran a preservar nuestras raíces y tradiciones. ¡Sigamos promoviendo el amor por México  ! ¡Felicidades a todos los participantes !

[oddstructure]

Obsolescencia (English subtitles) from Etnoscopio on Vimeo.

A countless number of cameras and televisions in need of repair go through Miguel and David’s repair shops every day, with increasingly more complicated work needed. Following the path of these objects, we get to know these characters’ daily routine, whose life story evolve in the just as that of the things they’ve been repairing for decades. Objects that go unused and go from hand to hand every day, conquered by a diverse number of trades that give them new a new value to what is no longer usable for many people; until finally reaching a place where only fragments of each camera and television have their last chance.

Por los talleres de Miguel y David pasan día con día un sin fin de cámaras y televisores cuya reparación es cada vez más complicada. A través del camino de decenas de objetos entramos en la cotidianidad de estos personajes cuya historia de vida se va trazando a la par que la de las cosas que reparan desde hace décadas. Objetos en desuso que pasan diariamente, de mano en mano conquistados por diversos oficios que le dan un nuevo valor a lo que deja de ser útil para muchos; hasta llegar al espacio donde los fragmentos de cámaras y televisores tienen su última oportunidad.

Awards/premios: -Best Script of a Foreign Film. Etno Film. Rumania (2016) -Jury Mention. Intima Lente. Italia (2015) -Mención del Jurado. ACAMPADOC. Panamá (2015) Festivals/festivales: -IUAES World Congress Audiovisual Exhibition. Brasil (2018) -Festival Etnovideográfica. España (2017) -Samsara Environmental Film Festival. India (2017) -Festival Internacional Cinema Planeta. México (2017) -Congreso de Antropología en Colombia (2017) -Red Centroamericana de Antropología. Costa Rica (2017) -Festival de Cine y Medio Ambiente de la Antártica. Chile (2016) -Canal U. Biblioteca Pública de Medellín. Colombia (2016) -Ecuentro de Investigaciones Audiovisuales. México (2016) -Central-Doc. Muestra de Cine Documental. México (2016) -Apricot Tree International Ethno Film Festival. Armenia (2016) -Mundo De Sueños Film Festival. E.U. (2016) -Ecozine Film Festival. España (2016) -Fan Dependent Spring Film Festival. E.U. (2016) -The Riga World Film Festival. Letonia (2016) -Muestra Iberoamericana de Cine en Taxco. México (2016) -Ícaro Festival de Cine en Centroamérica. Guatemala (2015) -Festival de Cine Etnográfico de Ecuador. (2015) -Encuentro Académico de Antropología Audiovisual. México (2015) -Foro de Cine Etnográfico. México (2015) -Bucharest Jewish Film Festival. Rumania (2015) -Film Program Finnish Anthropological Society. Finlandia (2015)

[torosytoreros6]

Guadarrama hace públicos los premiados de su Feria de Novilladas: Kevin Alcolado se alza como triunfador

El jurado de los premios “La Torre de Guadarrama” ha elegido ya a los triunfadores de la Feria Taurina 2024 que se celebró durante las Fiestas patronales en Honor a San Miguel y San Francisco desde el 29 de septiembre al 4 de octubre. Cuatro festejos taurinos con los que tanto las ganaderías, ganaderos y … La entrada Guadarrama hace públicos los premiados de su Feria de Novilladas: Kevin Alcolado…

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Presentan Prontuario Socioeconómico Binacional 2024 para impulsar inversiones en Nuevo Laredo

NUEVO LAREDO, TAM.- Frente a organismos productivos, el Gobierno Municipal a través del Instituto Municipal para la Competitividad y el Comercio Exterior (ICCE), presentó el Prontuario Socioeconómico Binacional 2024. La alcaldesa Carmen Lilia Canturosas Villarreal indicó que este documento muestra las múltiples ventajas competitivas que ofrece Nuevo Laredo y funge como herramienta de consulta para quienes desean invertir en esta tierra de oportunidades. "Gracias a este esfuerzo conjunto, hoy podemos decir con orgullo que nuestra ciudad se consolidó como la aduana número uno de México. Pero este logro no ha sido sólo fruto del trabajo del gobierno, sino también de la sinergia que hemos construido con los miembros de la iniciativa privada y con la ciudadanía que día a día apuesta por el progreso del municipio", señaló. Destacó que este logro también es gracias al entendimiento entre los tres órdenes de gobierno, a la visión y liderazgo del presidente Andrés Manuel López Obrador y del gobernador Américo Villarreal Anaya, quienes han impulsado proyectos estratégicos que han sido clave para consolidar a Nuevo Laredo como el epicentro del comercio exterior en México y el mundo. Por su parte, el director del ICCE, Viviano Vázquez Macías, explicó el contenido del Prontuario Socioeconómico Binacional 2024 qué consta de 129 páginas con información acerca de la región de los Dos Laredos. Este documento es una herramienta de consulta para inversionistas, empresarios, estudiantes y público en general, quienes pueden investigar y conocer diversos temas como turismo, dependencias municipales, historia, indicadores, entre otros. El Prontuario Socioeconómico Binacional 2024 también puede ser consultado de forma digital mediante el siguiente enlace: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1cqPXHI2vKTqY5S1fvtT2yGFi4jrqreMc/view?usp=sharing La presentación de esta herramienta contó con la presencia de integrantes del Cabildo, representantes de sectores productivos, autoridades escolares, entre otros. En el evento estuvieron presentes José Ignacio Zaragoza Ambrosi, presidente de la Asociación de Agentes Aduanales de Nuevo Laredo; Ivette Bazán Muzquiz, presidenta de la Fundación de la Asociación de Transportistas de Carga de Nuevo Laredo; Juan Eliud Martín Ciénega Jurado, presidente de CANACO; Adolfo del Valle López, presidente del Club Campestre Ribera del Bravo; Rene Adrián Salinas Salinas; director de la Facultad de Comercio, Administración y Ciencias Sociales de la UAT; Abiu González Ixba, director del Tec Milenio; Miguel Ángel Vázquez Maldonado, presidente de CANACINTRA y Enrique Morán Romero, presidente INDEX Nuevo Laredo. Read the full article