#also i’ve been thinking about what to wear to his catholic funeral

[wormsdyke]

not going to a catholic church for several years now allowed me to forget the way people can be so comfortable saying the most intensely guilt tripping things without a second thought

[buckstaposition]

I cling to your lips like gloss (4)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

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

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

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

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

Masterlist

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

Chapter 4 - Prime Numbers

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We're not done discussing-" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She looked awfully young." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mrs Jurado-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, I couldn't possibly-" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"To the...house." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's this?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mrs Galindo." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's true." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good, that's good." 

"Mr Velasquez gave me a lift." 

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

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

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

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

"You okay?" 

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

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

"Apparently Gilberto cut a deal with the government." 

"The government?" Javier echoed weakly. 

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

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

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

"He doesn't like it." 

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

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

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

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

"I'm coming over." 

"To Calí?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sleep well, Miss Rivas." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes?" 

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Got a raise?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Close. There's three." 

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

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

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

"Okay, coffee or nap?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So for dinner I was thinking-" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She may have been what, Miss Rivas?" 

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

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

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

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

"When's your flight?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Miss Rivas, good evening." 

"Decidedly not. Did you watch the news?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Javier gulped. "Yes." 

"But they'll be replaced, right?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Miss Rivas, I-" 

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

--- --- --- 

author’s notes: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Chapter

[desticuleconfessions]

hey desticule. so i have a supernatural-themed girl best friends story that i’ve wanted to share for a long time, especially because none of my irl friends ever rly understood the gravity of this experience w/o the context of spn. there’s a lot of fun parallels to stuff on the show, and its given me like years of brain rot and therapy lmao. so i really deeply appreciate this page as an outlet, thank you so much to the mods for making it. anyways uh. here goes. sorry it’s so long.

[tw: queer trauma, religious trauma, mental illness]

okay so. in 3rd grade i met this girl. we'll call her kate. we became best friends, as in our names were never spoken separately, we did (and won) every science fair together, she came skiing with my family every winter, i stayed with her family at their beach house in the summers, our younger siblings were friends, etc.

our birthdays were exactly 6 months apart (jan 22/jul 22) so we literally believed that we were celestially intertwined.

we wrote a novel together in 8th grade. her family is baptist, we attended massachusetts catholic schools. i would go to church with her family when i slept over, i held hands and said grace with them at meals. they are all tall and blonde and beautiful. classically angelic. i am south asian. i remember introducing her to harry potter in the 4th grade, her mother hadn't let her read em because it was "blasphemous", but i snuck her my copies and she would read them during lunch n recess and keep them in my locker. sorry this seems like a lot of unnecessary detail but it will be important later.

anyways we both got into doctor who and subsequentally supernatural (s1-8?9 at the time). i specifically remember getting her into supernatural. i also remember her instinctive disdain for destiel when i talked about it, i was showing her a meta or fanfic i think, and i talked her through undoing some of her christian household’s internalized homophobia (fully assuming we were both straight at this point) (we were fucking 12). we'd do the whole "bitch" "jerk" thing, i (the older one) affectionately called her 'sammy', her phone password was dean, mine was cas (and they still are). on my 13th birthday, she gifted me a samulet, which i still wear to this day. (additionally, she gave me a vonnegut 'so it goes' necklace one year) (thats not vital but) (goes to show the extent of my dean coding) (im also an aquarius lmao). im highly protective of her. i carry extra rubber bands on my wrist for her. i keep our money and phones in my jacket when the school takes us skiing. i sit next to her in the halls during lunch and organize her binder. on an 8th grade field trip, a boy made a gross comment at her and i broke his nose.

so we start high school together at coed catholic school nearby, i join debate, make a friend also into spn, she's bi. she asks kate out over text. kate's mom sees this. things turn.

now the rest of these things happened over the course of a couple months and due to my trauma memory loss, i have no idea how accurate some of these memories are so uh. don't hold me to them.

- her highly religious mother is not happy with this obviously. at some point, she brings a priest home and tries to have kate exorcised.

- at this point, we learn that kate is schizophrenic; it never seemed to create noticeable issues before bc her home life and childhood was a perfect happy dream (not an assumption, her words).

- she's still coming to school, sporadically now, i bring home her work, spend hours helping her.

- when she comes to school, she has seizures: sometimes we're fortunate enough that they happen in a class we have together. she freezes up and the teacher empties the room. i refuse to leave. i hold her hand and softly sing her favorite song and sometimes she comes back to me. sometimes she doesn’t and the bell rings and the teacher forces me to leave and let the nurse handle it.

- another time they announce a medical lockdown (to keep ppl out of the hallway if someone is being escorted to an ambulance) while im in catholicism class, i immediately know it’s her; she fainted in the pool during swim team practice.

- i stay awake for 6 days straight bc i read online that sleep deprivation induces some of the same symptoms as schizophrenia and if i could understand what she was going through, i could help her

- she shows up at my house w both of her parents 15 minutes before the winter ball, begs me to go bc her parents will only let her if i go. so i do. her mom lurks by the gym doors with the chaperones. during a slow song, kate and debate girl start to slow dance, i grab our friend’s hand, drag him in front of them so her mom can’t see and make out with him.

- i wanted to tell her to stop but i was too afraid i would lose us, that it would seem like i was homophobic or i was jealous, but i knew her in my marrow and it didn’t seem like she was in love or into the relationship, it was willful self destruction

- we talked in the last few years, she confirmed this.

- at some point, she says she’s sorry she didn’t tell me about the voices before.

- when we talk, she’s not her anymore, she doesn’t remember our inside jokes, our codes, i can feel her being slowly ripped away and apart in real time

- i have a vivid memory of arguing with her and her telling me im not real, that her mind made me up, while occasionally speaking to something? someone? else in the room. i hold her hand and point to the matching thin scars on our thumbs and try to convince her im real.

- she eventually drops out entirely, taken to some mental facility that im not entirely sure wasnt conversion therapy (it was definitely a religious facility) (and conversion therapy was not outlawed in new hampshire until 2019) and im not allowed to see her.

- every now and then i get cryptic distressing emails or texts from her.

- one in particular has the subject, “youandiwalkafragilelineihaveknownitallthistimebutineverthoughtidlivetoseeitbreak” which is the first line of the song ‘haunted’ by taylor swift (our shared favorite)(the summer after this happened we collectively decided we needed a new swift Our Song and chose ‘breathe’). the body of the email read “what the hell have i done”

- i pray for the first time in my life, every single day for a few months, in different languages, at temple with my parents, in the chapel at school

- on a club trip, i get a call at 2am from her, crying, asking me why i didn’t help her, why i didn’t stop her, that it was my job to protect her

here’s something i wrote about her, three yrs after:

I wasn’t careful enough and she caught quickly. She burned so close and so bright that for long afterwards, I could not see. And like that, she was gone. I walked into the chapel. Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.

[that last line is from the latin version for a catholic prayer called the act of contrition, it translates to “through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault”]

in the fall, i hear she’s starting at a small baptist school almost an hour from her house. she is dating the principal’s son. the principal is also her pastor.

in my second year of college, i have a bad acid trip in a snowy park in december. i put my hands into the snow and when i look at them,i see blood. i see her body in the snow adorned like it’s a funeral

i still have dreams about her. sometimes i meet her in a grassy field, flying kites and i invite her to my wedding. in others, i catch a glimpse of her ponytail and catholic school skirt and chase her up eight flights of stairs and when i grab her hand, she turns to ash.

at some point in a separate argument w my parents in which they went through my texts and found out i wasn’t straight (amongst other things) my dad says:“i knew i should’ve listened to [kate’s dad] when he told me the things you would talk about. he knew what you are. and he took his daughter away from you.”

last christmas we met up and drove around together, she tells me that for years she thought i hated her for letting me down and for abandoning me, and i literally have the dean winchester in ‘sacrifice’ five stages of grief when sam says “you know what i confessed in there?” because i could not even begin to fathom that she ever blamed herself. it had always been my fault. i had failed to save her. i corrupted her and i failed to save her.

anyways she’s fine now, she’s okay, im okay, we’ve talked and unpacked and we’re alright. but uh. yeah. that happened. the parallels make me crazy. now they can make you crazy too.

‎

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #395

“suicide? i’ve already died  /  it’s just the funeral i’ve been waiting for”

Have you ever met a famous political figure? No. Have you slept for longer than usual today? Ugh, no. I officially have my APAP mask for my sleep apnea, and I chose the one that covers my nose and mouth considering it varies which I breathe from when I sleep depending on congestion. It is very hard to get used to. When is the last time that you experienced rejection–literal or imagined? Hm. Is there an artist or celebrity whom you admire for their craft but take issue with their personality or politics? Yeah, such as Marilyn Manson. He's a pretty gross person but by god do I love his music. What’s the last thing you made out of clay? An anatomically correct heart. Do you like bacon bits on your salad? Yes. What do you do to celebrate Earth Day? Nothing. :/ I wish I could think of something to do for it. Have you ever had someone try to intentionally bully you to suicide? Bro what the actual fuck. No. Who are your favorite kids that you’ve babysat? My nephew Ryder. Would you feel funny if you kissed somebody of the same sex? I've kissed a girl and it felt pretty great, so. Name three things in your room that others probably don’t have in theirs: 1.) a snake; 2.) a huge meerkat collection; and 3.) an APAP machine. Besides furniture, what’s the biggest thing in your bedroom? My snake, I think. Describe your feet: Ugh, the worst. My feet are horribly callused from when I used to walk all the time. I have small toes. What’s a pretty bird? Peacocks. Besides sleeping, what do you do in bed? Just about everything. .-. How do you like your hoodies? Loose/oversized. Can grills be sexy on a guy? They're hideous, if you want my honest opinion. Have you ever been in a Catholic confessional? Yes. How fucked up are those, honestly... I really hate the concept of teaching children that they have to tell some random guy things they feel bad about and let him ask God to forgive you or else you're going to Hell. What color was the hair of the last person you kissed? Brown. Can you do a backflip? No. Where are the last three places you went? The TMS office, a gas station, and my sister's house. Do you consider yourself a flirt? No. How old is the oldest person you’ve dated? I actually don't know, but at least close to 30 now for sure. I just know we were both in high school, but he failed I think two years. What’s something that makes you feel more creative? Music. Who has the best personality on YouTube? Guess who, lmao. Which YouTuber seems uber-confident? Mark is a very confident person. I envy 'im for that. What is the funniest YouTube video you have ever seen? I watch YouTube like... constantly, so I've seen thousands upon thousands by now. I really don't know. Have you ever been inside a Victorian mansion? No, but that's like a dream marriage venue for me. What was the most boring field trip you ever want on? I don't think I ever had a boring one. Man, I miss those. Do you enjoy watching videos of babies being born? NO FUCKING THANK YOU. Does ANYBODY? Are you a hoarder? No. If you were rich, what things would you get done cosmetically? I would say liposuction, but I honestly want to lose the weight myself. If/when I lose the weight I want to, I am 110% getting loose skin removal at LEAST on my stomach because I feel hideous with it. Also if I achieve my weight loss goals, I want to get a breast lift. Weight loss-related things aside, I'm pretty serious about getting laser hair removal on my legs because I HATE shaving and my legs are VERY hairy, and the hair is dark, so I'm extremely self-conscious about it. Are you the type of person who asks a lot of questions? It depends on who I'm asking. With some people, I'm afraid to look stupid if I ask too many. How many states have you visited in your lifetime? If you're excluding the ones I've merely driven through as well as lived in (which is only one), I've visited Ohio, New York, Florida, Virginia, Tennessee, and Illinois, so six. I MAY have been to Michigan as a baby, but I don't remember. What is your biggest fear for the future? Ending up homeless after Mom passes. I'm scared my family will give up on me, which is completely unrealistic, but I'm terrified of living on the streets. Do you like seafood, or not so much? I only like shrimp. Have you ever cried from being so nervous? Oh, certainly. What is your favorite book series, if you have one? Hm... of all series I've ever read, probably the Shiloh trilogy. I adored the books and the movies. Have you ever had a parasite before? NO NO NO NO NO, DON'T MAKE ME IMAGINE THIS. I am PETRIFIED of parasites. Do you have a big heart when it comes to animals? Absolutely! Have you ever put your pets in a kennel for a while? I actually don't remember? It's possible when we've gone on an extended vacation, but I'm unsure. Whenever we've gone somewhere, friends have normally taken care of our animals. Where is your favorite place to buy clothing? Hot Topic or Rebel's Market. Do you enjoy listening to older music? I love classic rock and metal. What do you think is the most stupid song out there right now? "WAP" for fucking sure. I haven't even heard the whole thing, and I don't EVER want to. As a child, did you ever want to become a mermaid? Nah. Ariel was my favorite princess, but I wasn't obsessed with mermaids or anything. Can you compose sentences in any other language than your own? Some German, yes. Mainly just the basics. Have you ever met someone who was really racist before? Yes, many. -_- Do you have any celebrity autographs? No. If you could be a Disney character for a day, who would you be? Maybe Kiara from TLK. What is your favorite color of clothing to wear? Black. Did you ever build furniture forts as a child? Oh yeah, lots of times! I sometimes even pretended they were burrows and I was a meerkat, ha ha. What kind of dog is your favorite? I have a beagle bias. Do you prefer water or land? Land. Have you ever had a seizure? No. Do you plan on losing weight any time soon? Hunny, I've been trying to since 2016. -_- I lost like 70-ish pounds through 2017-2018, but recently I've gained almost like... all the weight back and it is upsetting beyond words. Have you ever been in a heated pool? Uh, a hot tub? Yes. Are you looking forward to anything? Getting Venus' terrarium, finishing TMS so I can maybe get a job, visiting Sara again... What was your GPA in high school? Over 4.0. Do you require a lot of private time? OH yes. What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I hope achieving a sense of accomplishment and becoming content with my hopeful career, marrying a fantastic partner, and having a family of lovely pets. If you have a favorite television show, who’s your favorite character? I'll go through the very few I deeply enjoy: 1.) Mozart in Meerkat Manor; 2.) probably Hyde from That '70s Show; 3.) perhaps Envy from Fullmetal Alchemist; 4.) Jerome from Ginga Densetsu Weed; and 5.) Shiro from Deadman Wonderland. Did you use to watch Blue's Clues? OH yes. I loved that show as a kid. Do you stutter when you get nervous? BADLY. Your lunch consisted of...? What DID I have... uhhh OH leftover pizza. What is your favorite kind of chips? Hot, crunchy Cheetos. What is the best way to tell someone that they stink? I wouldn't. Do you have any embarrassing usernames? Some from the past, yeah. Do you have a backpack in a shape of an animal? No. I found a meerkat one once, but it was way too small for me to use in school. :( I was so disappointed. Have you ever waxed your legs? No. I've waxed my upper lip and eyebrows, but especially with how long and thick my leg hair is, I think waxing there would be excruciating, so no thanks. Do you own any shirts with a peace symbol on it? No, but I would if it had a cool design. Have you ever taught a little kid to flick people off? No, and I wouldn't. Children generally don't have a strong enough grasp on when profanity is appropriate and not. Have you ever itched yourself until your skin was raw? This is VERY common. Like right now, my right arm is the Sahara with how dry and raw it is. Do you always clear your history after using the computer? Nah, got no reason to. Have you ever eaten a Big Mac? No, because I know I wouldn't like it; I don't like lettuce on my burgers. Do you feel like you’re judged for your looks? For my weight, yes. Name one world issue that upsets you. Just one? Poverty is high on the list. Just... no one should have to live like that. Do you like Wendy’s frosties? After they thaw a little bit, oh yeah. It's physically impossible to drink them for a good few minutes because they're so damn thick.

[colesterstrudel]

So here are my endless thoughts on SVU & OC, all under the cut bc I get rambly and incoherent lmaooooo so here goes the format is shit bc I’m on mobile but are we surprised lmao

SVU

It is a crime that we never got to see the dress Liv was wearing to her ceremony A CRIME I know it was a lewk I KNOW IT WAS

The Liv/Elliot stare down dkdkdkkdkddk pls they’re just looking at each other like they’re trying to make sure they’re both really there

The flashback to the episode where pregnant Kathy is in a car accident with Liv was a crime against me, specifically, bc how dare you make me deal with those emotions while Liv is also dealing with them with that 100 yard stare WHY

Fin’s “you’re gonna have to ask him” to Liv in the hospital 🤝 his “you’ll have to ask her that” to Elliot in the bar or whatever

The whispered convo in the corner of Liv’s office hello intimacy lmao personal space whomst Liv and Elliot don’t know her and they never have AND THEN when Elliot says “let’s work it” like they’re still partners, LIKE THEY’RE PARTNERS FOR LIFE, IF YOU WILL

Liv spent so much of their partnership pushing him to be with his family and she STILL has to do it even ten years later after he’s broken her heart she loves him so much she loves his kids she wants nothing but the best for him so she keeps pushing him to go back to his family, to visit Kathy in the hospital, but noooooooooooo hardheaded Elliot Stabler just can’t do it

“I give you my word I’ll behave” so u just gon lie like that to her FACE when you haven’t seen her IN TEN YEARS DKSKDKSKSKSKSK LYING IS GONNA BE ONE OF THE FIRST THINGS YOU DO and also when he started rolling up his sleeves??? BRAIN ROT IMMEDIATELY BRAIN EMPTY

LIV HOLDING ELLIOT BACK, HIM ALL IN HER PERSONAL SPACE, THE RAISED VOICE FOLLOWED BY THE WHISPER, THE LINGERING EYE CONTACT DKDKDKDKDKDK IF Y’ALL DON’T FUCKIN SMOOCH IN THIS BITCH

Actually okay the whole interrogation room scene bc seeing them in interrogation with each other is painful enough, but the looks Liv keeps giving him while he’s talking to the suspect dkdkkddkdkdk the last time she was in an interrogation room when she could still feel Elliot’s presence around her was when she was crying after he put in his papers YES I AM CRYING THANK U and then the suspect says “why aren’t you in the hospital with your wife” and it’s practically the same thing Liv told him but he can hear that kind of stuff from her and be okay but when anyone else is questioning his loyalty to his family it sets him off (not that she was questioning his loyalty but you get what I’m saying) and UGH the way Liv keeps an eye on him as he moves around the room to make sure he doesn’t fuckin lose it

She bumped into him on the roof ON PURPOSE she didn’t have to be that close to him there’s plenty of room on the roof for the two of them but it’s like she’s questioning if he’s really there and then you have to wonder how many conversations has she had with him mentally or in her dreams that she has to fuckin shoulder check him on the roof to ensure he’s really there, that she’s really talking to HIM

Elliot’s Catholic guilt rearing its ugly head as he caresses the head of his dying wife while he has so much he wants and needs to say to Liv.......am I overthinking this I thinketh not

KATHY NOT BELIEVING ELLIOT TELLING HER HE HASN’T SPOKEN TO LIV IN TEN YEARS AND LIV HAVING TO CONFIRM THAT IT’S TRUE I’M DKSKSKSKSKSKSKSKSKDKS LIV WAS THE GLUE HOLDING THAT GODDAMN FAMILY TOGETHER AND SHE COULDN’T EVEN RECEIVE THE LOVE SHE SO DESPERATELY WANTED???? NEEDED??????? FROM ELLIOT BC OF IT I’M DJDJDJSSKSKSKSK

Liv watching Elliot kiss Kathy’s forehead through the glass door of that hospital room, like she’s been forced to look in on that marriage from the outside for YEARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The symbolism!!!!!!!!!!!

The waiting room hospital scene yes this will be burned into my brain forever thank u. Neither of them can sit still when they’re around each other now it’s like it’s too much all at once especially Liv she keeps moving and fidgeting and when they ARE still they’re so CLOSE to each other like they can’t bear for there to be any distance, not anymore, not now

They tell each other they love each other without saying the words and it kills me every single time I can’t live like this I wish they were better at talking about their feelings

ANOTHER WHISPERED/BREATHY “ELLIOT” with that side eye YES LIV LET HIM KNOW HE FUCKED UP dkskdkdkdkdk and then she told him she LOVED HIM “you were the single most important person in my life and you just.....disappeared” god this really tears my heart out every time I think about it bc the look in her eyes just 😭😭😭

“I was afraid if I heard your voice I wouldn’t have been able to leave” GOD DID Y’ALL KNOW IT ONLY TAKES THREE WORDS EACH TO SAY I LOVE YOU DID YOU KNOW THAT DID YOU KNOW YOU COULD CONSERVE OXYGEN AND SAY ONLY THREE WORDS OBVIOUSLY NOT

Liv having to stand up for Elliot once again and defend him to people who don’t see him the way she does, the way he deserves to be seen, she’s had to do it for years when they were partners and now she’s doing it again when he’s only been back like a day and a half

I’ve already talked about the bar scene with Elliot and Fin a bajillion times but!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s just such a good fuckin scene and the emotions and the mannerisms from Elliot are just *chef’s kiss* that man loves Liv so much and he’s so upset he’s missed so much of Liv’s life ugh just thinking about his “who’s the guy?” and how he must be thinking back to “you’re the longest relationship I’ve ever had with a man” and how that may still be true but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t moved on and found someone else to take his place in her heart, in her life, to give her the child she always wanted WHEW

LIV DKDKDKDKDK “Phoebe just said I love you and you couldn’t say it back?” MA’AM YOU CAN’T EVEN TELL THE MAN YOU LOVE THAT YOU LOVE HIM PLS STOP JUDGING FIN DKDKDKDKDDKDK

Liv calling Elliot “Stabler” why does that shit hurt my heart so bad dkdkdkdkdkdks CALL HIM EL AGAIN PLS

Amanda likening her relationship with Liv to Liv’s relationship with Kathy? No ma’am. No. Somebody get the spray bottle tell her to shut the fuck up

Elliot called Liv before he called any of his kids about Kathy HE CALLED HER FIRST no I’m fine this is fine that’s just something you’d do like if you loved someone or something lmao def nothing suspicious here

I will never stop talking about that hug okay bc Elliot IS SOBBING and he nuzzles into Liv’s shoulder and she wants to keep her walls up and remain distant but her eyes close and she settles into it too god it’s such a GOOD hug you can FEEL the emotions

“I didn’t get to say goodbye” hello parallels between Elliot and his wife and Liv, the love of his life again this is fine I’m fine

Liv putting his family first and offering to call his kids for him fkdkdkdkdkks god will she ever put herself first with ANYONE or will she always put herself on the back burner can we PLEASE GET LIV SOME LASTING HAPPINESS IN THIS BITCH

Even tho Elliot said he didn’t need her to call his kids it absolutely looks like she DID get his kids and take them to him in the chapel like that’s how it comes across and idk if they did that on purpose or what but that’s what it looks like idk man it just really kills me bc she just keeps putting his family first and keep them together SHE IS THE GLUEEEEEEEEEE IN THAT FAMILY

“I can be objective” not with Elliot miss ma’am and you know that like it’s cute that you think that but 👀👀👀 we all know JUST LIKE WE ALL KNOW that technically you’re off the case but you won’t be off the case you’ll keep looking into things when you can bc that’s your partner, your Elliot, and you can’t not keep looking into it

OC

When Elliot goes downstairs at the courthouse and he starts speaking Italian to those dudes he arrested or whatever and then he starts threatening them and he does the throat slash motion as he gets taken away dkskskskskks BRAIN WORMS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why is that so HOT!!!!!!! @ myself get it together

I’ve already talked about the snow scene in the park but I am not done I will never be done bc the tension!!!!!!!!!!!! Liv won’t hold eye contact for too long and neither will he and I am DYING the small talk is so awkward and then he says “you woulda loved it” about his place in Rome meaning he was THINKING ABOUT HER WHILE HE WAS AWAY

“Elliot, I can’t” OH MY GOD DKDKDKDK and the way she looks at the letter in his hands dkdkdksksks awh hell

Liv was wearing gloves and Elliot was bare handed as they walked around the city in SVU, when she was showing him the pic of the suspect on her phone and here she is again, wearing gloves while Elliot’s hands are bare but this time she brushes her fingers over his ever so slightly while taking the letter from him. The touch is on purpose, has to be, but it’s like the rooftop scene where she bumps into him to make sure it’s really him. Not to mention the gloves vs bare hands thing - she’s erected walls up around her heart and her life and she has all these boundaries she won’t let Elliot cross, not now, maybe not ever she tells herself, and as long as she can separate even the smallest amount of her bare flesh from his she just might be able to make it through him being back in town

ELLIOT WANTED HER TO INTRODUCE HIM TO NOAH YOU CAN SEE IT god he must’ve been so torn up about it bc that’s her kid!!!!!! He’s a part of her!!!!!!!!! He wants to know everything he missed and she won’t even introduce him to her child!!!!!!!!

Angela Wheatley I’m free on Thursday if you’d like to hang out on Thursday when I am free

Liv doesn’t take her eyes off Elliot at the funeral not once NOT ONCE I know I’ve said this before but she’s really the glue that holds that goddamn family together and I am DYING

She holds it together for all the kids and Elliot but the second she walks away her face just fuckin CRUMPLES she can’t hold it together anymore especially after the way Elliot grabbed her whole ass arm to thank her for going I’m dkdkskdkdkdkd this is too much this is too much

THEY DELETED THE FUCKIN SCENE WITH THE WHOLE FAMILY IN ELLIOT’S APARTMENT??????? WHY???????? I WANTED TO OVERANALYZE IT AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay so I know Richard Wheatley is the bad guy but I luv him what a MAN. He really said “fuck you you racist piece of shit” and killed his own dad fkdkdkdkdkdksk okay WORK RICHARD

SERGEANT BELL I AM AVAILABLE ON THURSDAY LEMME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO HANG OUT ON THURSDAY WHEN YOU ARE FREE

Bell not taking any sorta shit from Elliot I LUV IT I LUV HER GET HIS ASS DKDKDKDKSKSKS he NEEDS people to keep his ass in line bc he doesn’t know how to act not even a lil bit

LIV READ THE LETTER!!!!!! She’s the least stand-offish she’s been to him this whole time WHAT WAS IN THAT LETTER I HAVE TO KNOW

* She knows him too well she knows he’s hiding something from her she knows he’s got something going on but he’s never been good at separating his work from his real life and that hasn’t changed, not now, not even with her and she KNOWS something’s off the way she looks at him while he’s waiting for the elevator is unreal and the lil half nod he gives her bc he KNOWS he needs to talk to her about that letter, especially when she’s WILLING TO TALK NOW but the job!!!!!! “You and the job are about the only thing I’ve got anymore” and he doesn’t even have her, not like he used to, not like he wants to, so he defaults to the job and trying to figure out who killed Kathy and who has it out for him

Okay I obvs didn’t have as much to yell about in OC as I did SVU but I’m so excited to see how OC goes bc it’s got me intrigued already like I need to know. Everything. About the Wheatleys!!!! EVERYTHING!!!!!!! And I need to see Liv and Elliot interact again pls pls I need it 😭😭😭😭😭 ANYWAYS THE END BYE

[sincerelyreidburke]

Ok, so as a Hellenistic pagan(greek gods not satanism), I kind of want to know what the crickets religious identies are?

Thank you for asking!!!!!!! A little-known fact: in addition to studying history, I also study theology, so you have just enabled a very specific and enthusiastic part of my geek brain. Exploring characters’ religious identities is fascinating for me (see all the Catholic 1961 Dex guilt subtext in love finds you) (actually, is it even subtext if there are flashbacks to Mass and funeral rites and a literal scene involving the town priest???? anyway).

This is the part where I expose myself as coming from a Catholic family, because, uhh, the thing is. The crickets’ ethnic backgrounds are (checks notes) Mexican, French, and Italian, and you know what is particularly popular among each of those groups?????

You guessed it: the Catholic Church.

So let’s talk about the boys.

(Ask me anything about the crickets!)

Nando... usually comes first in the unofficial order, but he’s my favorite cricket religion discussion to have, actually, so I’m saving him for last. Let’s start with Rhodey!! In the OG Rhodey Facts post I mentioned that the Shaley family (but more so the DeLuca family, his mom’s side) are practicing Catholics. I feel like that does mean going to church kind of regularly, but maybe not every Sunday. In home environment terms, religion is more important to Brenda than to Rhodey’s dad who I’m only just now realizing doesn’t have a name. Maybe, like, Paul? Paul Shaley. That’s a good dad name.

Anyway. Okay, sorry. We’re back. The point is that Rhodey was raised going to church, and some of the more aggressively Italian members of his family (cough, cough, Uncle Reno) are way more serious about Catholicism than others. But Rhodey himself?

Ahh...... he just doesn’t really believe in organized religion. He will do Mass to please Brenda and Brenda only. He’s like John Mulaney...

As a very queer person, Rhodey just generally doesn’t vibe with the tradition he was raised in. He doesn’t think it’s inclusive enough and also just generally thinks that if there’s a higher power, it would be hard for humans to conceptualize it.

So in terms of what Rhodey actually believes? I think he’d fall into the “I’m spiritual, but not religious” category. As in, he believes in some kind of greater force in the universe, but he thinks it’s not really much like the Christian understanding of God. Rhodey might adhere to some spiritual practices that are more in line with Eastern traditions (like meditation, personal cultivation, etc), but he doesn’t identify with any one faith. Like, this is so specific, but Rhodey practices ‘hipster spirituality’. I hope you might be able to understand what I mean by this.

Does Brenda Shaley know all this? Of course not.

Aaaaanyway. On to Touille. Honestly, he’s the least interesting, but that’s not to say religion doesn’t play a role in his life. His mémé is super religious, and so is his mom, probably, by extension, which means he was likely raised going to Mass often. French Mass, by the way. Obviously.

I think religion is very much a familial and traditional thing for Touille. He’s never really had any problem with religion, and he generally won’t have one throughout his life. Is he super devout? No. Does he put a ton of thought into his faith? Not exactly. But does he believe? Yes, for sure. For him, that’s all it’ll ever be. And that’s what works for him.

And now. Nando. My sweet sweet child. Let’s have a discussion about him.

Mama Hernandez is a very religious lady. The late Papa Hernandez was also very religious. In general, Nando comes from a very Catholic Mexican family, on both sides. That cross necklace he wears that was his papa’s? It’s not just for style or even just the family connection. It has religious meaning for him, too.

Nando was raised going to weekly Mass. Because family is the most important thing to him, this is very important to him, by extension. Nando has also been aware for quite awhile of his own non-straightness. He’s well acquainted with the Catholic Church’s general stance on homosexuality, and Christianity in general.

But here’s what Nando thinks. Nando believes, fervently, in the existence of God. He also believes in the importance of Mary, and in the saints and angels, and all that other Catholic jazz. He is well aware of what the Bible says about being gay, but he also knows that the Bible says just as much about haircuts, tattoos, mixed-fabric clothing, and the like. And also Jesus told dudes who look at a woman with lust to go gouge their own eyes out. The point: Nando does not believe that being gay is a damning thing the way so many American Christians tend to say it is.

Nando wagers that even if being gay is a sin— and he doesn’t think it is; he’s confident God made him perfectly, just the way he is— but even if it’s a sin, that Jesus still loves him anyway. He prays sincerely and often, asking God to keep his papa watching over him and giving thanks for the people he loves. Although I don’t think he’s able to go to church weekly during his time at Samwell, he always goes at home with his mama.

Which, by the way, Maria’s adamant acceptance of her son despite the stereotypes about Catholicism and acceptance of queer people is a big contributor to why Nando’s faith is important to him in the face of such unconventional circumstances.

The point is that Nando is very religious, in his own way, and he’ll stay that way all his life. As for Christian homophobia, he just sees that as people who don’t really understand that being a Christian means you’re supposed to love your neighbor above all.

The Catholic piece is, yes, very much just a product of his upbringing. General faith is more important to him than tradition, but out of respect for his parents and attachment to his culture, he wouldn’t switch to another kind of Christianity. He wouldn’t see another that’s more appealing anyhow.

Also, a caveat: Nando very much participates in traditional Mexican spiritual practices like the celebration of the Day of the Dead.

Wow! I’ve gotten long-winded. Thank you for this extremely enabling ask. I’d be happy to talk more about any of this if anybody wanted!

[fiery-assassin-arc]

Bare Yourself - Iris’ POV

tw nudity mention, tw abuse mention

The chiming of the bells coming from St. Auodeon’s Church is enough to bring chills to me, even though it’s a nice spring day. Memories from Catholic school hit me like a train, thinking of Yvette almost. I wonder how she fares—not that it matters.

 She made her choice when she wouldn’t even help me anymore, and I’m the fool for trusting her still.

My hands go to the cross necklace I decided to wear today, the cold metal unfamiliar since it has never remained on my neck until after school. I look over at the nuns, bowing in respect to the people who are entering, seeking a familiar face.

 “Father Daniel.” I announce his name, walking over to him. The nuns look up and smile. Of course they remember me.

 He turns, gives me a soft smile. “Ah, Iris. What a pleasure to see you on holy grounds again. It’s been what, a few months?”

 “Just one month, Father. I heard the bake sale was a success.”  I look over at the nuns. “Sister Harriet, you look lovely as ever.”

 “Oh stop it dearie. I remember when you were just a wee little girl, scared of the ruler. And now look at you, all confident and strong.” She reaches for my wrist and I retract slowly.

 “I was hoping if you weren’t too busy Father, I would like to speak to you.” I whisper the last seven words softly so only he could hear.

 He nods. I don’t tell Father Daniel much. Mainly the nightmares that never wish to cease their orchestra in my skull. And for some of the acts I’ve committed. I couldn’t stop myself from crying when I told him I killed someone, but he never turned me in. Just told me to find some way for forgiveness to seek absolution. Strangely, in the world we live in, we accept it.

 And this church was now polytheistic.

 He takes me to the confessional booth, sitting on the side so he can appear aloof. Once I sit down, my hand goes to my cross. Rubbing the metal until it hurts my fingertips.

 “Father I have felt plagued by the past.” I start off, lean my head against the chair. “For two weeks now, I have gotten nightmares involving . . .” I exhale slowly, thinking if I say his name, he’d appear like Bloody Mary. My finger goes over the rosary beads that were conveniently placed beside me, inhaling deeply.  He’s not here. He won’t get me here. He won’t he won’t— “Remington, someone who had wronged me in the past.”

 He hums. “What about him that plagues you?”

 “I think he’s back.” I breathe the words out. “He attached me in the woods, I know he did. And my family thinks that I’m imagining it.” As the priest remains silent, I sit back and continue. “You know it’s been over three years since he died?”

 “I remember that day, you had come into my church that following night. Still in your gown. Be grateful it was so dark no one recognized you.” He looks up to the sky, probably apologizing to the Gods.  

 “Yeah, thanks for that.” Almost three years ago, after the wedding was off the air of television due to a electrical circuit being cut, I drove the wedding limo towards this very church. When I made it here, still stained with blood, ready to confess my sins, Father Daniel welcomed me inside.

 “Do you believe his spirit is unrestful, due to the nature of his death?”

 “I don’t know.”  Every time I think of the alternative than what I have experienced, it gives me a headache.  “But due to a random Titan bringing people back, if you haven’t heard, anything is possible.”

 “It frightens you, the idea of him back in your life?”

 It makes me sick. He takes my silence as confirmation.

 “I’ve also had dreams… memories of us. I’m not sure, but they feel like they happened. Showing me what he really was.” He’s silent the whole time. Something wet hits my hand, my fingers are burning from the rubbing of the rosary beads.

 The dreams have started last year on my birthday, showing me glimpses, through motion or a whole movie-length. It’s either our happiest moments, or signs of his abuse I didn’t speak out on. That lunch scene genuinely frightened me.

 And I have no idea if it was real, or he’s fabricated it years ago. My heart rattles inside my ribs, hurting me. How deep did his influence run?

 “That is something I don’t think I could help with,”  Father Daniel leaves his side of the booth and walks for a moment. Then he opens my door, his green eyes soft with concern. Hands me a tissue. “I think that we are done for today.”

 I let go of the beads, see the paint is rubbed onto my skin, a rich brown. I must look a mess in front of him. Shaking, crying. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

 “Breathe, child. It is natural to let go of your emotions.” Father Daniel takes my hand, helps me out of the booth. We go out to the back of the courtyard. “There are things even I cannot assist with. Hearing one confess, hear their problems, but at their own mental expense, I feel it would be too much for their soul.” He gingerly places a hand on my shoulder, smiling at me.

 “Of course, Father. What should I do?”

 “I would suggest talking to someone with knowledge of the mind. Perhaps they can help.” I grimace, but he doesn’t notice, or he did. “Or journal, do something to find ways of what it means.” He inhales, continues. “Sometimes God doesn’t have the answer for it all. I hope you find peace, in what you are going through, Iris.”

 I nod, hear a distant clap of thunder over on the east side. It vibrates within my skin. Hot tears slide down my face. “Thank you.”

  Perhaps it’s because I was born in water, or maybe my zodiac sign, but I love the feeling of it.  The floating, the light twinkling through the glassy ceiling of blue. Submerged ten feet underwater in my pool with flowers floating above, I feel a sense of peace. My hand slowly moves in the water, my eyes open. It doesn’t burn.

 My body twists and glides effortlessly, hair tickling my skin. Finding peace through swimming, ballet. Things I used to do before— they can help me. Sure, I could take Father Daniel’s suggestion of seeing a therapist. But not now. Not until I get him out. Out of the physical realm and my mind.

 And these damned memories. Why are they resurfacing? And are they real?

 I swim back up to the surface, pushing my hair back. All that I hear is my breaths, the muffled sounds from my music, and the water moving with me in tandem. I’ve sent the servants home, and I usually pay them while having them every six months. It’s better being alone. No one hears my screams from my nightmares.  No one has to see my battle.

 I’ve had one person to see my vulnerable side like that, and she’s in a crypt in the frozen tundra. Per my demand.  I wasn’t going to let him turn her to rubble. I trusted him.

 I pull myself out of the water, pulling my hair to the side to wring it out of excess liquid. Maybe I could cook something, get my mind off of today. “Radio, off.” I command, and the radio silences, leaving me in quiet. It’s fine. I can make it one day in silence.

 I wrap the towel around myself and exit out the pool room, making my way to the bathroom, and turn on the shower, nice and hot. I strip myself of my swimsuit and get in. Wash the chlorine from my hair and skin, ignoring the sting of soap in my eyes. I blink it away, scrub it out.

 I don’t want to close my eyes.  I don’t want to see the darkness.

I wash my back, the scars showing lines where I was hurt. Can’t believe it’s been six years since that day. As I look, I notice some look older, a bit more darker than the others. As if I had these scars before my kidnapping.

 Couldn’t be my wings giving the scars. It’s a weird sense of anatomy how they come out,  but never resulted in my back bleeding.

 And I remember the pain of each whip, but on some parts, it hurt worse. Hitting something that was there prior.

 I shake off whatever idea I have, despite the chill and continue to shower. Wanting it out of my system. Maybe… Maybe Dad was right. Maybe it was just because of his anniversary of his death that I imagined it. No. It sounded stupid as soon as I thought of it. Dad can be right on many things, but not this.

 Definitely not this.

 I change into some sweatpants and a big shirt once I’m done, splash some cold water on my face before walking out to the living room. I bend to the fireplace and start it up with some wood and a flame. The sounds of the ember popping a comfort to me. When I exhale, I notice how cold it is.

 “Nick?” I say into the silence, before groaning. “Not in the mood for this, big brother. Next time use a lock.”

 “You’re not as aware of your surroundings as you used to be.”

 My instincts are quick, grabbing the fire poker and pointing it straight at the intruder in my home. He stands at the front door, arms behind his back. Clad in blue, the symbol of our clan proud in the center of his headband. A soft smile. Sad, but soft nonetheless. It’s been four months since I’ve seen the man in front of me. Four months since I almost killed him in revenge.

 Not since the funeral of our friends, clan, of Frost.

 “Hi, Sub-Zero.”

[claraxbarton]

MCU Bucky Barnes

So here’s the thing.

I’m a costume designer by trade, and one thing that I actually really love about Captain America: The Winter Soldier (okay, among the things I love) is the costume design and the rhetorical value given to the clothes and, well, costumes in this movie. 

For example - when Sam and Steve have their heart to heart on the bridge that ends with Sam saying “but he doesn’t even know you” and Steve saying “he will” before going to steal his old uniform - the one Bucky last saw him in when he was Bucky. There are some other great costume points in this movie, actually a LOT of them (costumes, not wigs, don’t at me because I KNOW).

But one thing that has always stood out to me, and not in a good way, is the “I’m with you til the end of the line” flashback.

Now, here’s the thing, it’s not JUST about the clothes. We’re in MCU verse, so it’s MCU canon - obviously, the Steve and Bucky duo is drastically different in Marvel comics canon so - and Bucky starts this scene by saying his folks wanted to give Steve a ride to the cemetery.

Which is super cool and nice. So one, we know Bucky’s dad is still alive - and his mom, but two, we know they have a car.

So this is supposed to be when Steve is around 16? So it’s... 1936 (according to MCU wiki it totally is)

So cars.

Crazy popular ever since they started having closed bodies and all that. BUT, were they crazy popular in CITIES in 1936? Especially in the middle of the Great Depression?

There’s some evidence that actually no, that car ownership in a city like NYC was something like 1 car per every 43 people. Then again, looking at the NYC.gov 2015 Mobility Report we see that the population of NYC in 1936 is something like 7.2 million, and the number of registered vehicles in 764,000... or roughly one per every 9.4-ish persons. Which is a pretty drastically different number. This doesn't, of course, account for taxis or fleet cars being registered - so the number might seem inflated. I still think it’s probably something closer to 1 car per every 20 than every 43 but... I’m too lazy to dig that much deeper at the moment. Plus I'm sick, which is fueling this in the first place.

So, anyway you slice it, Bucky’s family was in 11%, 5% or 2.33% of New Yorkers who own cars in 1936. Which says something, I think, about Bucky Barnes that we don’t always - ever? - think of in fandom.

I’m not going to say that Bucky Barnes was loaded. Maybe his family owned a garage or a grocery store or a delivery service or a funeral home...?? or something. So, the vehicle could be occupational as opposed to private usage - but either way it’s a statement. Bucky’s family has money and/or Bucky’s family has steady employment.

I’ve been there. I’ve read the fics where Bucky works at the docks to put Steve through art school and get him his medicine. I love those fics. I love that head canon.

But I... don’t think it’s realistic in light of some evidence showing us that, actually, Bucky wasn’t doing too badly for himself.

Let’s now actually look at CLOTHING. Here’s the whole scene via youtube, if you want to follow along with what is about to get RIDICULOUS.

Actually, before I dive in, who is the costumer for this movie? And should I be like... reading into all this as much as I am?

Judianna Makovsky - fellow New Jersey..Ian?ite?no clue - 3 time Oscar nominee and designer of 5 MCU films and a lot of other big budget movies, including quite a few period pieces dealing with issues of race and class (The Legend of Bagger Vance, Seabiscuit, The Little Princess.. and also like Harry Potter and The Quick and the The Dead.) So, should I have some faith in Judianna Makovsky’s designs? I’m gonna go with yeah, yeah I should. 

So, back to the movie. The scene.

This is post funeral. We’re in 1936. As a general rule, the dress, colors and style of mourning wear was pretty much formalized in the early Victorian era. There was a great - read PHENOMENAL - exhibit at the MET a few years back on Mourning-wear and I’m still reeling from how lovely everything was - but the gist of it is this: you wore black when someone died. If you were a lady, and especially if you were a rich lady, you then went through a few different colors (dull black to SHINY black to purple/mauve and gray and white and then back to color within six months to one year). By the 1930s only the really rich were sticking to the actual rules of mourning - or like, really old people. And, of course, really old rich people. Really old rich WHITE people. Because it needs to be said: these are WHITE customs. I'm not saying people of other ethnicities didn’t follow them, but these are basically British Victorian practices that were assimilated into American culture.

I’m not going to go off on a huge sidebar about American fashion following in French dressmaking and British tailoring, but I need to say at least that much. Everyone who was anyone knew you got your dresses made in France or in the French style and you got your suits made in England - Savile Row in specific. I am NOT implying Bucky’s got himself an English suit, fyi. I just... have to be thorough.

BACK TO THE SCENE:

We’ve got our boy Steve. STEVE. Who just buried Sarah Rogers and what is he wearing...?

For starters, he’s wearing a windbreaker, check out the 1933 ad below, he’s the guy almost giving us the Fonz finger gesture, or maybe guy in the fedora on the end.

This thing isn’t falling apart at the seams, but it’s a very nondescript not really gray, not really blue - maybe was at one point. It also doesn’t FIT Steve. It also, in the ad above, would cost about $165.40 in today’s money.

My guess? It’s Bucky’s old windbreaker. Because it’s not cheap and because it’s just a bit too big on Steve. 

He’s also wearing a shirt that is maybe tan? And a brown tie and maybe - MAYBE black trousers. And if those trousers are black, it’s the only black thing he’s wearing. Not even a black tie, or a black arm band (which I’m pretty sure - but also pretty aggressively atheist so I don’t know - the Catholic Church would have provided for chief mourners and pall bearers right?). We also have our depressing as all shit Depression surroundings to clue us in: Steve Rogers ain’t loaded. Steve Rogers is poor as dirt. Side note: boys. Hiding a key under the ONE FUCKING BRICK on a walkway is not like... a smart idea???

So we can guess a few things here, we can guess that Steve and Sarah were really struggling - this checks out with the rest of MCU canon (wearing newspapers stuffed in his shoes, even when he had nothing he had Bucky, etc.) - and that all money probably went towards Steve’s numerous ailments, food and then the TB medication or treatment, as it was, that was available to Sarah.

We can maybe guess that Steve and Sarah weren’t very religious -but I don’t feel qualified to impart anything except my own agenda here so I’m not taking that stance. But like, real talk, not even an arm band?? 

But, well, let’s move on to the point of this whole long ass thing anyway?

--

Then we go to Mr. Barnes, looking dapper AF. Also, hey, check out this ad from 1933 featuring... pretty much exactly what Bucky is wearing down to the god-damn two-tone shoes:

If you’re curious, yeah $24.98 in 1936 is $475.44. I'm not suggesting Bucky Barnes went out and bought a brand new suit for Steve’s mother’s funeral - for one thing, this ad is from 1933. BUT, that suit fits Bucky. Quite well, and it’s in good shape. He’s also sporting that super stylish mid-late 30s into 40s deeply angled collar shirt - as is our dude up in the ad - and so we know these clothes are at least new-ish. We also can see that the suit is definitely of the mid-30s moving into the boxy silhouette of the later 30s and early 40s and NOT the look of the 20s and early 30s, which has an almost bell-bottom fullness to the legs instead of our straight-leg here (though we can debate nuance if you want to hit up my DMs.)

I should note, Bucky’s shirt is not bright and pristine white - it’s kind of grayish? And I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be an old-timey sepia thing or an indication that Bucky can’t afford to... bleach a white shirt? So that’s an odd choice for sure because we’re still in an age when a crisp, white collar shirt means something (Hey, if you want to hear me go on about the democratization of men’s fashion via shirt collars and 19th century Victorian suits, let me know because I am READY).

All this is to say: I don’t think Bucky Barnes is a poor dock worker. I think Bucky Barnes of MCU canon. Okay, so the MCU wiki on Bucky/The Winter Soldier is an actual mess (because it tells us that Sarah died in 1936 and that’s FINE but I’m not going back to change my math because I’m SICK so just... I went back and changed it. She died in 1936. Fine. The damn wiki also says that “a year later, during their art class, Barnes and Rogers found out that the United States of America had joined World War II. Which, like, I’m sick, but there are a few years between 1936 and December 8 1941... just... I’m no rocket doctor but...

ANYWAY. Bucky is a three time YMCA welterweight boxing champion by this “year later”/ 1941-1942. He and Steve are also in an ART CLASS together. Bucky also trained Steve in boxing at Goldie’s gym before the two of them went to enlist - Steve rejected and Bucky, again quoting MCU wiki, “drafted” (which I'm gonna take to mean he didn’t try to enlist when Steve got rejected, they went home and Bucky got called up later but... hey, who knows?!).

So, I can’t easily find the prices of gym memberships in NYC in the 1930s right now because I don’t feel like wading through all of the articles complaining about Equinox pricing in 2019. But I do know that part of Roosevelt’s WPA (Works Progress Administration) building projects included building more public gyms - as well as libraries, auditoriums, pools, parks etc. Check out your local public buildings - if they are WPA projects they will have a cool plaque like my local NJ library does! All that is to say, there were free or very cheap PUBLIC options where Bucky could have trained Steve.

Bucky trained Steve in a private gym. Do I like to think that this is the same gym Steve and America’s ass are working out in in The Avengers? Yes, Yes I do. Do I like to think that Steve likes to box because it reminds him of Bucky? Yes, yes I do.

But moving on: it’s another sign of wealth.

So is this “art class.” Whether we are in 1937 or 1941 - we’re still in the Depression. Steve still has all of his health issues and presumably accompanying “medication” (wanna talk 1930s medicine? Again, slide into my DMs or shoot me an ask). So Steve either has a side job making enough to cover all of that, rent? and enrollment in an art class.

OR maybe Steve is teaching the art class and Bucky is his model for life drawing instruction (yeah, it’s a fic bunny I’m sharing with the world).

OR maybe... Bucky is paying the rent and other things or Steve is living with Bucky and can afford the class and meds... somehow or...

OR I'm not saying that Steve is Bucky’s kept man because Steve Rogers would punch anyone who dared to say such a thing.

All I’m saying is, Bucky Barnes was not a poor dude. Bucky Barnes... had some money.

And also I’m about to be late for my doctor’s appointment so I gotta run.

At me with your thoughts!

[talesofafangirlwithadvr]

What to Binge Watch While in Quarantine

Do you feel yourself running out of things to watch on DVR or you don’t know which streaming platform to explore for your next watch? Or do you just find yourself with more time on your hands and don’t know what to do? If you answered yes to any of these questions I hope this thread helps you out. A lot of these picks are some of my top choices no matter what the case (which means I might have spoken about them before-possibly A LOT. Or they may be upcoming March picks, which just shows how great they really are). So without further a do here are some things you should consider bingeing as you maintain your social distancing and seek a form of escape...

Need a laugh?

Check out DERRY GIRLS

This half hour comedy (which honestly should be longer because the episodes go by too fast and there are not enough of them in the seasons) follows Erin Quinn as she navigates high school during the 1990s in Northern Ireland. She attends an all girl Catholic school along with her cousin Orla, and friends Michelle, Clare and James. (That’s right James also attends the all girls school. He’s a Brit and it would be too dangerous for him to attend the boys school during this time of civil unrest.) As the girls experience trivial problems like how to get to a concert or how to avoid people eating pot brownies at a funeral, the historic problems play out in the background. During the pandemic we’re experiencing we can take away living in the moment like these girls from Derry and not overly stressing on big world problems.   

Streaming on Netflix

Wanting more of a ROM COM kind of escapism?

Then look no further than the Netflix original Set it Up. 

Two assistants, Harper and Charlie, work in the same building and are experiencing a very “Devil wears Prada” relationship with each of their bosses. They meet one night at work after hours and believe they have the worse boss. A plan gets set in motion to set up their terrible bosses with each other. Then when they’re happy, the two assistants can have their lives back. You already see where this is probably going and who this love story is actually following: Harper and Charlie. I’ve been raving about this movie since 2018 when it first came out and it is still just as great as the first time I watched it. It honestly still gives hope for a great romantic comedy. 

Streaming on Netflix.  

Up for a good mystery? 

Give Cw’s Nancy Drew a try.

One of the Cw’s latest new shows this season, Nancy Drew, re-invents the classic stories we all know and love with a more darker and supernatural spin. If you like Riverdale and the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina then this might be right up your alley. However, as someone who doesn’t watch Riverdale and didn’t fall in love with Sabrina, I am still a big fan of this new adaptation of Nancy Drew. I feel like I’ve experienced a roller coaster of reviews with this one, from really liking it to not so much (because there was too much of the supernatural involved and I just wanted a good mystery) to now really liking it again. I think I just needed some time to understand the vibe of it all and now that I really know the characters I’m liking it a lot. I’m also excited it has been renewed for a second season. 

You can catch up with all 16 episodes now on the CW app or online cwtv.com. New episodes return in April. 

Want more of a magical kind of mystery?

Then you gotta watch Locke and Key.

Thanks to Netflix’s new trending list I decided to check out Locke and Key and I am so happy I did. It was fantastic and I can’t wait for season two. Based on the graphic novel by the same name, the series follows the Locke siblings who have just witnessed their father’s murder before traveling cross-country with their mother to his ancestral home, Key house. The house is filled with these magical keys that all have different properties from getting into your mind and looking at your deepest thoughts and desires, a key that opens any door and can take you anywhere, or one that opens a music box that lets you control people. The kids get drawn to the keys and unlock a deeper mystery of the keys and how their dad was involved in it all. Plus, there’s a sinister presence that is after the keys and will stop at nothing to get what they want. Definitely worth checking out!

Streaming on Netflix. 

Need some music in your life?

You must watch Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

This show gets better and better each episode. After a freak accident, Zoey gets the ability to hear people’s innermost feelings through song and dance. She’s the only who can hear it, which means she needs to help the person get through the problem in their life. Each episode has a good amount of musical numbers from popular songs to classics and even musicals. Great cast. There is not one character I don’t like. If you are a fan of Glee I would highly suggest checking it out. It’s the show that often gets compared to it, but you don’t have to be a fan of Glee to enjoy it. I wasn’t a die-heart fan and I’m loving Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist. It’s a feel good watch that is just what we need at a difficult time like this. 

Watch it on NBC on demand. 

Did you love High School Musical?   

Then why haven’t you watched High School Musical the Musical the Series?

This show has been promoted since Disney Plus was released back in November. There was a lot of hype over it, which made me unsure if it would be worth it, but I gotta say that I really enjoyed it overall. A cross between Glee and the Office, HSMTMTS follows students who attend the school the Disney Original Movie Series was filmed. When the new drama teacher comes to “East High” she is shocked that the drama department has never put on the musical for themselves. There’s a love triangle(s), a large cast of talented singers, drama and mystery. Great new songs that will get stuck in your head and the promise for a second season with a brand new musical to perform. (I’m just bummed it’s Beauty and the Beast and not HSM 2). The episodes are only about 25 minutes and you’ll find yourself finished with the 10 episode season in a matter of hours.

Now streaming on Disney+.  

Feeling a telenovela musical?

Then Violetta is for you!

Drama, laughs, love, and music (with more catchy songs you won’t be able to get out of your head), this Disney original from Buenos Aires has it all. You will get sucked into the episodes just like I did and be shocked how far into the series you are in such a short amount of time. I watched all 80 episodes (that are about 40 minutes a piece) in a matter of 2 months. (And now I’m upset that Disney Plus hasn’t released season 2!!) The show follows Violetta Castillo who has just returned home after traveling the globe with her father for years. She wants to be like a regular kid and attend school rather than having a tutor, but her father forbids it. He’s over protective because her mother was a famous singer who then tragically died. He ties it back to the music and forbids Violetta from performing as well. Throughout the first season, she is exposed to a music school where she makes new friends, enemies, and becomes a part of a love triangle (naturally). In the process she rises to be one of the most talented performers, but constantly is worried her dad will find out the truth and make them move again. 

Streaming now on Disney+. 

Needing a Sci-Fi fix?

Tune into the Cw’s Pandora.

The show aired on the Cw this summer and needs more love and recognition. I was surprised over how much I enjoyed it. When each episode aired I wanted to watch it right away, which then made me upset because I had to wait a week, but you won’t have that problem! The show takes place in the future in the year 2199. Our main character Jax witnesses her family getting tragically killed and is forced back to Earth to live with her uncle who runs a training academy. Jax enrolls in the school and makes several friends a long the way (there are so many ships on this show that I often had trouble deciding who I liked with who). While at the academy she starts to piece together that her family’s death might not have been an accident and that more lies behind it as well as her own past. There were times when I was confused by how much time had passed from the last episode because characters would be very close or references would get made and I’d be like: Did I miss something? But despite all of that I really enjoyed it and am happy there will be a season 2. It feels very Cw in the best way possible, so if you already watch a lot of shows on the network then you should give this one a try. 

Watch the entire first season on the CW app or online @ cwtv.com

Wanting an ironic watch in this difficult time?

Then add Daybreak to your queue.

This Netflix original had been on my list for a while and once the Corona virus was getting more and more serious I felt I needed something to take my mind off of it and also to have a good laugh. Daybreak is doing just that. (I am currently still watching the series so I don’t have a full review just yet.) This show takes place during the aftermath of a nuclear attack. In this apocalypse adults have turned into “zombie-like figures” who are muttering the last thought they had (often a very funny one). The kids are now in charge and each clique in high school has a territory. We follow social-outcast/new kid at school. Josh who is on the search for the love of his life, Sam, that he lost during the night of the explosion. Along the way he finds allies and they form their own tribe. This show is constantly breaking the fourth wall, having characters directly talk and look at us. I thought I would hate it, but I actually really like that feature and am kind of upset now that Josh has not narrated an episode in a while. 

Now streaming on Netflix.    

Still looking for more laughs?

Add Kelsey’s 100 Baby Challenge to your Watch Later

Throughout last year, Buzzfeed multiplayer’s Kelsey Immpicciche took up the 100 baby challenge in the Sims 4. What she thought would be a fun challenge and a couple videos blew up into a full series spanning 50 episodes, multiple spin-off series and even a line of clothing (which I am happy to say I own a sweatshirt). Who would have thought watching someone play the Sims and try to have 100 babies with all different parents would be so much fun? Kelsey has made me want to play the Sims and have my very own 100 baby challenge. This challenge is hilarious and fun. I loved all of Kelsey’s commentary as she plays as well as reading the comment section where everyone tries to give her tips. It’s so exciting to see how so many people got involved in this challenge. I hope she continues for season 2 soon! 

You can watch all of season 1 on YouTube.

Need a change in location?

Venture back in time and to Prince Edward Island with Anne with an E.

L.M. Montgomery’s beloved series is adapted with a fresh new take on her classic characters and setting. Across Anne with an E’s three seasons we watch Anne Shirley come to Green Gables and form a family with Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert. We watch her shake up school and form life long friends. Something that I love about this series is that it is able to incorporate so many of the issues our society is facing today. While not always 100% accurate to the original novels, the show takes liberties with the source material and expands upon it to create something audiences can see as an echo of our conflicts. While this has been a problem for some, I think, once you realize this, you can enjoy the series even more. I know of so many people who have turned to the book after watching and falling in love with this series. Now, during this time, it is the perfect form of escapism. With each season spanning about 10 episodes you will be done and wanting more just like I am. I’m still upset the series has not been renewed. 

Streaming now on Netflix. 

Early Releases:

LITTLE WOMEN is now available on digital copy.

FROZEN 2 has been released early to Disney Plus.

Rumor is that EMMA will be released on digital copy as early as March 20th.

With so much to watch I hope that you can endure this quarantine happily. If there’s a show you’d like to add to the list make sure to attach it below in a comment or by sharing this post!

[gascon-en-exil]

Joining the Game Late: S1E1 “Winter is Coming”

I’ll be starting off with a brief synopsis of each episode, so those following along don’t have to go back and rewatch or look up what happens in each one.

Synopsis

Suddenly, ice zombies. There’s a dead man at court and the queen and her brother are acting suspicious. Rigid Anglo legalism on display in the North in spite of the aforementioned ice zombies. Heavy-handed foreshadowing with dead animals and Bran climbing stuff. The king has a request for Ned and they’re very close, but don’t worry - there’s a dead woman in there to make it not weird. Jon gets called a bastard every two sentences and this makes him sad. Daenerys’s creepy brother marries her off to ethnic Other eye candy, she gets dragon eggs, and then the eye candy rapes her. Dead man’s widow, also Catelyn’s sister, suspects foul play and flees the capital. Bran discovers the Lannister twincest and gets shoved out a window.

Commentary

I had heard that the first few seasons of GoT were consistently decent to good, and after watching this pilot I have to say I’m genuinely impressed. Admittedly if I were coming into the show completely blind back in 2011 I’d have been overwhelmed trying to keep up with the characters and plotlines this episode sets up in very short order, but that’s one of the perks of approaching this kind of media in hindsight like I’m doing. As it stands there’s some interesting plots and some good material for a number of character arcs already, and I’ll be looking forward to watching some of them in particular develop.

But...yeah, like I thought I’m immediately not really into the Starks as the main PoV family. Ned quipping to Cat that “it’s your gods with all rules” is such a lie even when I barely know anything right now about the pseudo-Catholic faith of the southern kingdoms (except that the tolling of their bells for a funeral service sounds suspiciously similar to the bells rung before Mass), because these Northerners and their “old ways” keep to such simple-minded notions of oaths and justice and such. Also, the men of the Night’s Watch have to be celibate for...some reason; I guess with them freezing half to death at the edge of the world for the rest of their lives they’re expected to have blue balls in addition to blue everything else. It’s not like any of the Starks individually offend my sensibilities - hell, if they keep building Ned like this I might actually have an emotion when he gets executed and loses his decoy protagonist role - but nothing about their culture appeals to me. I hope the action shifts to the south soon, even if it’s mostly to the treacherous King’s Landing.

As for the party come up to visit them in Winterfell: Robert’s a boorish slob and I totally get why Cersei’s not into him, Cersei appears to have been placed in a terrible situation to which she’s responded by becoming terrible herself (fully understandable), Jaime is a handsome dick who’ll attempt to murder kids and has the worst taste in places to have a booty call (I would not fuck anyone on the floor of such a filthy tower), Tyrion gets to be poignant with Jon and has a couple of funny lines besides (what do they say about Northern girls, Tyrion? That they wear medieval jockstraps?), and Joffrey hasn’t said anything but I have no idea why Sansa thinks he’s so hot when he’s decidedly average. A crown in your inheritance is like having everyone around you wear super beer goggles, I suppose.

The Daenerys plotline hasn’t got much to it other than what I’ve already mentioned so far. At first I thought the detail about the Dothraki cutting off their braids when defeated in combat was a sign that they didn’t fight to the death and were more pragmatic than might be expected of a warrior culture...but then one of them gets disemboweled at wedding party and his opponent chops off his braid so what’s even the point? Is it just a dick joke? If that’s the case Khal Drogo is fittingly packing, because up until the rape scene he’s really just a built half-naked guy to ogle if you’re into that primitivist look. It’s not like there’s any other male nudity on offer, apart from a scene of Robb and Jon (plus that one guy who hangs around with them who hasn’t been named yet) all shirtless together and looking as bloodless and unimpressive as Anglos always do. But there’s so many topless women, eesh. I guess I should just try to get used to it. It’s a bit odd, too, because already there’s this undercurrent of how men use sex to control women, or how it’s just a hobby for some of them (like with Robert and Tyrion) even as all these topless scenes were clearly shot with the (straight) male gaze in mind. This plays into my theory as to why the details of Dany’s wedding night were changed from the book, where I’ve heard it’s consensual but where she’s also noticeably younger. The way it goes on the show allows it to keep the creepy factor while also casting an actress old enough to expose herself for the camera. So sex as power play used to subjugate women + fodder for fap material, set against a backdrop of a seaside cliff at sunset like a twisted harlequin romance novel cover.

Oh, and I forgot about the dragon eggs. If dragons are supposed to be extinct or nearly so and their eggs so incredibly rare, isn’t it a little strange that someone just gives Dany three of them as a wedding present? I know she’s the one to eventually hatch them, but it’s not like she or anyone else knows that at the time. Would the Targaryen association with dragons count as reason enough?

One last note on the gore: a minor reason I was holding off on watching GoT was because I’d heard that it was graphically violent which is not something I care for. Based on the first episode however the gore seems unrealistic or stylized enough to not bother me, though that could always change later.

[dantediscoversfic]

Chapter 40: The Crap Cave

“Dante! You found us!” Clio said as I hovered awkwardly in the doorway of the art room that first day of school during lunch period.

She bounded over and grabbed my elbow to draw me into the oddly dark classroom. The overhead lights were all off, the window shades partially drawn down and gloomy pop music I vaguely recognized as The Cure droned from a cassette player. About ten kids were sprawled out around the room, most of them sporting various degrees of punk/goth/New Waver style. Two corset-clad girls in billowy skirts drew intricate designs on each other’s arms in black pen; a couple dressed in “normal” clothes was making out with gusto in the corner by the potter wheels; a boy wearing all black continually skimmed his pointer finger over the top of a Bic lighter flame; and the rest were eating lunch, chatting, scribbling in notepads or singing along to the music. Clio flicked the overhead lights a few times to get everyone’s attention, eliciting a few winces and hisses and boos from the group.

“Everyone, listen up, this is Dante. He’s new. He’s from Texas, but try not to hold that against him. He’s a brilliant artist. Dante, this is everyone. That’s Raija, Jane, Sachi, Fletch and Kelly back there sucking face, Joseph, Ann, Dave, Forest and Vee.”

I was greeted with a few head nods and finger waves, except for the couple making out who kept at it with sloppy yet admirable enthusiasm. Everyone went back to their conversations as Clio led me closer to the girls she’d pointed out as being named Jane and Sachi.

“So, Dante from Texas, welcome to 'The Crap Cave’”, Clio said using air quotes. “We have lit mag meetings here and also make our own ‘zines and stuff. Raija’s mom Ms. B is the art teacher—she just stepped out for a minute—so she doesn’t care if we hang out here as long as we don’t you know, perform ritual animal sacrifices or set anything on fire. Again.” She coughed pointedly in the direction of the boy with the lighter seated a few desks down from us and the girls chuckled. Seeing my apparent confusion she said, “See, Joseph’s a bit of a pyro and went through a destruction of property phase last year, didn’t you, Jo-Jo?” The boy in question grinned slyly up at us. “But he’s got it under control now,” Clio continued. “He channels his urges into sculptures where he can use an actual blowtorch from woodshop.”

“Blowtorches rule,” he said and cast me one more glance before focusing all his attention back to his lighter and intrepid pointer finger. I couldn’t help but notice that all his fingernails were painted black and he was wearing eyeliner and dark lipstick like the girls.

I pulled my gaze away from him, not wanting to stare too hard and be rude. “What did you call this room? The ‘crap cave’?” I asked Clio. “Did I hear that right?”

“Oh yeah, you heard me right.”

“Do I even want to know?”

Clio laughed. “Don’t look so scared, we know how to use the bathrooms like everyone else. It’s a sort of long story. You ever hear of The Batcave?”

“You mean like from Bat Man comics?”

“No. Well yes, but no. Same but different. The Batcave is this famous club in London for people like us. Bauhaus, Robert Smith, Siouxie, Nick Cave, Specimen all hang out and play there. Jane actually got to go there this summer, that lucky bitch,” Clio knocked Jane’s shoulder with friendly admiration. “So we kind of started calling it that in homage to the club like a year ago. But then the school had this gross mouse problem and their little poops were, like, this constant presence in our lives, so somewhere along the line we started calling it ‘The Crap Cave’ instead. Because that's how we roll.”

“The mice were perfect and adorable, not gross,” Sachi said.

“Sachi, no. Just no. The mice themselves might have been cute but their poops definitely weren’t.”

The two girls bantered about whether the mice should have been saved and kept as pets or if they were indeed an icky health hazard while I took everyone in, trying not to gawk, and sat down to eat my packed lunch. I was fascinated by the group’s collective style: a motley assortment of teased and spiked dyed hair, leather jackets, ripped band t-shirts, corsets and lace, fishnets, heavy boots, winged eyeliner, black lipstick and nail polish, powdered white faces, spiky hardware chain jewelry mixed with rosaries, crosses and pentagram necklaces. Some of the boys were even wearing makeup, which was something you hardly ever saw in El Paso. Joseph, the pyro boy, was particularly fascinating to me. His raven hair was teased out as much as Clio’s and his dramatic eye makeup accentuated his blue eyes and delicate, almost pretty features. The flame from his Bic lighter cast a warm glow on his ghostly pale skin.

Clio must have caught me staring because she leaned in close to my ear and said, “Don’t worry, Dante, we might look at little scary but we don’t bite. At least most of us don’t. Forest over there is saving up to get his teeth filed, but it’s not for blood sucking purposes. It’s because it’ll look badass.”

“Wow. My old school in El Paso was a Catholic private school so we all had to wear uniforms. It’s so cool you can wear whatever you want here. And be whoever you want. Do you all make your own clothes? I love your corsets,” I said to Jane and Sachi.

The girls grinned at me with approval and Clio said, “I knew you were a good egg, Dante. Jane made the corsets. She’s an amazing designer and sewer. I think the rest of us get by with thrift stores, hot glue and a crapload of paperclips.”

“I’ve never really thought about my clothes before,” I said. “But now I feel so boring compared to you all.”

“Aw, there’s nothing wrong with being a normie,” Clio said and patted me on the back. “It doesn’t make you boring.”

“Well, if you want to try something new, let me know,” Jane said. “Jo-Jo’s my twin brother. I make stuff for him all the time. Cravats, vests, things like that. I’m sure he’d let you borrow something.”

“Wow, thanks. You think I’d look good?”

“Yeah, for sure. But don’t let us pressure you. We dress like this because it feels right, right? But it’s not for everyone.”

The girls nodded.

“How did you all know you wanted to get into goth stuff?” I asked.

Jane said, “Well, for me, growing up I loved making clothes and dressing up since forever. Halloween was my always my favorite holiday. I was obsessed, like obsessed. Like I’d start planning my costume and how to decorate the house six months in advance. And after it was over each year, the next day I’d get so sad and cry for days and beg my mom to keep the decorations up and let me keep wearing a cape or whatever to school every day. So when I figured out that I could dress however I wanted whenever I wanted and basically have Halloween all year round and have my clothes express how I feel inside all the time, it was like a big weight was lifted.”

“Do people make fun of you?”

“I mean, sure, dicks are dicks,” Jane said.

“We get all sorts of ignorant comments at school, on the street, wherever. Like…‘Hey Morticia, Halloween is over,’” Clio lowered her voice to a dopey male grumble.

“Or ‘Errr….Do you sleep in a coffin?’” Jane said.

“Or ‘You look pretty hot for a dead girl!’” Sachi said.

“Or my personal favorite, the classic ‘Going to a funeral?’” Clio said with an epic eyeroll. “Yeah, your funeral if you don’t shut up about it. Please. But there are lots of people who aren’t asshats and you can just ignore the losers.”

“Yeah,” Sachi said. “People say things like ‘Oh, you’d look so pretty if you didn’t dress like that’ but this is how I feel pretty and beautiful. I didn’t feel right before. Now I feel good. Right. Like myself.”

“Raija’s mom is super cool because she’s an old hippie and gets it,” Clio said. “But my mom is still waiting and praying for the day when I let her dress me all in pink pouffy dresses again. Sorry Anita, not gonna happen.” There was an edge to Clio’s voice when she talked about her mom that I hadn’t heard from her yet. It made me wonder what her home life was like.

Sachi said, “Yeah, my parents were all worried at first that I was depressed and wanting to kill myself. They tried to have an intervention with all my aunties and cousins. ‘We’re worried about you, Sachi.’ ‘This isn’t the real you.’ Um, first off, yes it is. And second off, I’m so much happier now than before when I felt like a fake.”

“Yeah, people think that we do this for attention or as a cry for help or because we’re suicidal or worship Satan or are in a cult, but that’s not true at all,” Jane said. “I started making clothes for myself when I was ten. This isn’t a ‘phase’. I’m not going to just grow out of it.”

“And finding people who are into the same bands and fashion and movies and everything makes putting up with all the weird looks and comments easier. We’re here for each other, ” Sachi said.

“And sure, we get attention,” Clio said, “because we stand out with our awesome amazingness. But it’s not like we do it for attention.”

“Yeah, I totally get it.” I said. “I think it’s great.”

The girls smiled at me and I wondered how it would feel to dress like them, if that would feel ‘right’ for me or not. I understood what Sachi had said about feeling like a fake, though, and not liking how that made me feel. I felt that way when I used to tell people my name was Dan and not Dante. I felt that way still, a little. Because I didn’t quite know what it meant to be totally free and open with myself and the world and the universe. Not when it came to the biggest secret I had. In El Paso, I felt like I already stood out by not looking Mexican enough, by liking art and poetry and books and astronomy too much. It was enough to blend in and not get teased or bullied for being a little strange. Now I wondered if I flipped the script and really tried to stand out—if I dressed all in black and put on makeup and spiked my hair and embraced my innate weirdness—if that would make me feel more like me. It might make me feel tough and cool and badass for a little while, but I doubted it would make me feel more like myself the way it did for this group. How did I know, though? I’d never tried it before.

I wondered what Ari would think of my new friends. I bet he’d like them. And then I wondered what Ari would look like in black nail polish and eyeliner. I bet he’d look like a dark glamorous rock star. The thought did funny things to my insides.

Then the art teacher, Ms. Baldwin a.k.a. Raija’s mom, came in. She had gray hair in a long braid all the way down her back and wore a long flowy dress and bangle bracelets. She turned the overhead lights on and said, “Hey darklings, the cruel daylight beckons. Gotta get ready for the next class. Lunch is over in five. And you two, yoo-hoo, Earth to Fletch and Kelly! Please rein in your raging hormones during lunch if at all humanly possible? I can’t have anyone getting pregnant on school grounds.” Everyone cracked up at that and Fletch and Kelly turned beet red but finally disentangled their entwined limbs (and tongues).

I had an art class with Ms. Baldwin later in the day so I introduced myself.

“Hi, I’m Dante Quintana, I’m in your painting class during sixth period.”

“Dante, it’s so nice to meet you. You’re new, yes? This lot showing you the ropes?”

“Yes, Clio invited me to eat lunch with her and be part of lit mag.”

“That would be lovely. I’m the advisor, so I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot of you. How are you finding Chicago? Settling in all right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ma’am! Please, call me Ms. B. Where are you from?”

“El Paso.”

“Ah. I’ve only been there once. EPMA is a lovely museum. Have you been to the Art Institute yet?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“We’ll be doing a field trip later in the year, but if you are a lover of art you must go. It’s one of the prides of Chicago.”

“Thanks, Ms. B, I will.”

"Now if you’ll excuse me, Dante, I have to prep for next period. See you in a few hours!”

Ms. B went over to her daughter Raija, who had been sitting off to herself drawing in a sketchpad for most of lunch, and gave her a quick side hug before disappearing into a supply closet. Since everyone else was getting packed up I ate the rest of my lunch quickly and consulted my schedule to see where I was headed next.

“You’re in sixth period drawing?” I looked up and saw it was Joseph who had asked me the question. Standing up instead of hunched over the desk I saw how truly long and lanky he was. He was about a foot taller than me.

I nodded up at him and tried to smile but had a hard time keeping eye contact.

“Cool. Me too.”

He flicked his lighter a few times in his right hand and then grinned a lopsided grin at me before heading out into the hallway right as the bell rang.

This was shaping up to be a much different first day of school than I had expected.

[hellyeahrpmemes]

※ SHIT I HEARD AT COLLEGE ※

a thrilling saga of shit i’ve heard at college; these are all from my first semester of sophomore year. feel free to change names/pronouns/etc.! more ‘shit i heard/said’ starters!

“The porn industry is moving swimmingly.”

“We all need men. Go find them.”

“It’s not an opera, bitches, it’s a flight.”

“Don’t look! It makes their dick bigger!”

“I have my own place and I can light as many candles as I want.”

“I’m not a librarian, sir.”

“How’s your sack lunch, bitch?”

“Stab me in the ass and turn me into Kim Kardashian.”

“I stayed up another hour just to cry.”

“I just got a nude and I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“I’m gonna go stab my eyes out now.”

“We get it. You have a big truck and a small penis.”

“It’s an epidemic, Karter!”

“There’s no cups, so I’m using a bowl. To drink apple juice.”

“Fuck y’all, I’m eating Fruit Loops!”

“I don’t know my superhero name, but here I am with my can of Lysol and my plastic fork.”

“Your list of things to do includes making the best 2000s playlist of all time and fighting me at Cheesecake Factory.”

“This is borderline human abuse.”

“How do you feel about fluorescent lighting?”

“I’m sorry, I’m on a college budget, I’ll give you two nickels and a paper clip.”

“We couldn’t say hell, because… Catholic school problems.”

“I don’t want them to call me and be like, ‘we’re about to drill into your face!’”

“Ugh, yes, the hot TA, what club are you in?”

“My rat bastard dad? What about him?”

“I have an idea that I’m positive no other human has ever had: butter flavored ice cream.”

“I hate myself, but I’m funny, so…”

“This man loves puppies and he is not afraid to say it.”

“There’s just something about stale food that I really like.”

“I like how we’re watching our upcoming death on TV.”

“When I get wasted, I want to fight. It’s a problem.”

“My boyfriend got really drunk and started drinking nectar out of the hummingbird feeder.”

“He currently has a child.”

“That’s a good way of getting rid of a baby.”

“He can’t look at his dead parents or his alive children.”

“I can’t focus on reading, ‘cause I just wanna watch Drake and Josh.”

“My roommate loves manifestos. Especially the Communist Manifesto.”

“Have you studied his naked body or something?”

“Okay, we got our Greek tragic playwrights: there’s Sophocles… there’s Euripides… uh… Isosceles?”

“We’re so stupid we click things that say ‘click here for here’.”

“So there were just 95 loose pigs.”

“This is called shaming.”

“I can’t be the only person who says ‘meatballs and spaghetti’.”

“What could go wrong? …oh, shit, I’m on fire.”

“Don’t call Kourtney unless you wanna suck dick tonight.”

“There’s no one around. He’s talking to his dick.”

“Just ‘cause it’s Greek doesn’t mean it’s sophisticated.”

“I hate myself, but I hate her more.”

“I don’t know anything about it, but it has bread in the name, so I want to try it.”

“Just… don’t breathe this class.”

“Megan: secret crop top wearer.”

“I’m embracing my aesthetic while you’re embracing… Jon Hamm’s face.”

“What are we doing tonight besides homework? …and bread?”

“I’m witnessing a breakup right here in the Starbucks line.”

“I nominate Gushers as a snack suggestion, but, like, a lot of them. All of them.”

“I have a strong immune system.”

“I was so worked up about the bolo ties.”

“Also, I was wine drunk, so…”

“Does she hit him? I hope she hits him.”

“Only Matthew McConaughey drives Lincolns.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m totally a Republican… Pence is daddy…”

“After that… is the exact same thing… from a different angle.”

“All my life, I’ve been striving to be better than Kidz Bop.”

“Is ‘slaveitude’ a word?”

“Ted Bundy was attractive. People knew him.”

“I feel like whoever’s in charge of the Reese’s company is really high right now. Like, putting Reese’s inside of Reese’s.”

“One beer bottle on campus might be a problem, but if there’s 8, they’re props.”

“With elevators, it’s not claustrophobia. It’s that I don’t trust the government.”

“Headphones: in. World: out. Notes font: ugly.”

“You know that’s a felony, right?”

“That’s a… fourth or fifth impression kind of story.”

“That means she definitely fucked a member of Kiss.”

“I feel free, but also ugly.”

“This is my unassigned assigned seat, and if any of you take it, I will fight you.”

“I went to the Home Depot, bought a bunch of lights, put them up in the air, and said ‘this is art’.”

“Because I was a full New Yorker, I just kept walking.”

“We almost died, but our last meal would’ve been free, so…”

“What’s a funeral like in 2017? GIFs and memes.”

“I would like to thank not only God but also Tinder.”

“I sat through a 40 minute argument about how Justin Bieber started the Cold War.”

“I’m just walking down the hallway, thinking about ways to throw myself down the stairs and make it look like an accident.”

“Now, if it was Kidz Bop, I’d go see it.”

“Don’t name your kid Ethelwold.”

“Shoulders, chest, pants, shoes: a vision for America.”

“My dad’s not getting dick from anyone.”

“I’m a shady beach and y’all are my shady beaches.”

“Oh, no, don’t write that down…”

“At Chipotle, God himself picked those avocados and put them in the guacamole.”

“It should be a holiday: Ohio awareness day.”

“We should go to a nice place. A formal place. California Pizza Kitchen.”

“What do you do in geology lab? Dissect rocks?”

“What great weather for a mental breakdown.”

“He’s not computer generated; he’s actually that large.”

“I’ve done some soul searching and I think that ranch dressing is my favorite food.”

“I almost said his birthday was in 1926. It’s like, we got a little bit of an age gap.”

“Are you physically running away from the situation?”

“I will personally call Papa John to tell him that he’s the reason my life isn’t going right.”

“I can’t wait for middle-aged sex now.”

“I should’ve known, there aren’t two eclipses in a year!”

“I walked around with a bear taser for a year and a half.”

“I found out that the guy I have a restraining order against has been peeing on my car for two years.”

“He fought the devil in jeans and no shirt.”

“She threw my fucking pillow off of the balcony!”

“Tickets are for something fun. Paying the check is not fun.”

“It’s Halloween, calories don’t count on holidays.”

“Well, you know how I said we met in philosophy class? Well… Elise doesn’t take philosophy class.”

“You got it wrong. You said 56 point 2. The answer was 56 point 2.”

“Do I want that horrible sock tan line that I had for five years back? Yeah, I do.”

“I got drunk, threw up, got high, and came here.”

“It’s Titanic blue. I’m the Heart of the Ocean, bitch.”

“The only rat bastard in our lives is Russ.”

“The beats are so good, but the words are such trash.”

“I had to fight someone in the elevator yesterday.

“…I’ve awakened the Demigorgon.”

“We solved the great hiccup epidemic of 2017.”

“Watch out, Kansas, I’m coming for you.”

“Do not associate my birthday with math terms.”

“That’s some Hunger Games type shit.”

“Fuck y’all, I hope you trip and die.”

“I’m very confused and also cold: an American tale. A five part miniseries, this fall on HBO.”

“I am Mrs. Grey! Bring me the kink!”

“I really wanna make a shirt that’s all Comic Sans.”

“I was thinking about Panera’s mac and cheese in a bread bowl, and I started crying.”

“We’re gonna steal your WiFi, but it’s okay, because Panhellenic love.”

“I have confidence that you’re not gonna get pregnant within those two hours.”

“See if this card works. I mean, it should work, but, like…”

“I think my favorite part was slowly dying.”

“All they serve is chicken salad, so you really have to like chicken salad.”

“I have three papers and a test this week, I don’t have time for feelings to resurface.”

“I’m living a life. Not my best one.”

“When you write a report on a book you’ve never read.”

“Don’t tell me what to wear when you wear Crocs to the bar.”

“I have listened to literally nothing but Hallelujah and My Heart Will Go On all day today.”

“Oh my god, Elise, you fucking bitch, get your shit together, and write your paper.”

You know what I’m really devastated about? I’m all out of Fruit Roll-ups.”

“We’re gonna be teachers. We have school forever.”

“I don’t want your sympathy, I want your anger.”

“Clowns… doorknobs… the color yellow… ducks… I’m quoting Victorious…”

“Did you just say ‘hey Sophie’ to not include me? ‘Cause, guess what, bitch, I’m still here.”

“I live here, I know when we have salad!”

“I think Satan’s middle name is cumulative.”

“I will put up with my moose husband for however long I need.”

“I’ve literally been down here for an hour and a half waiting for these nonexistent cookies.”

“I’m keeping a detailed list of Elise’s hickeys.”

“I’m an adult, I say as I eat my Fruit Roll-up.”

“Oh, my practicum grade is in! Let’s see… 36.”

“SOS, I’m in bed and it’s so comfy, but I need to get up to study, what do I do?”

“Get up. Only a few more days until we can sleep all we want.”

“So you’re admitting you live in the woods.”

“I don’t know if it’s finals stress or if this is actually the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, but I’m crying.”

“It was optional, don’t make me feel bad for skipping class.”

“I’ve heard that, if enough people fail, they’ll have to curve it.”

“How do you even study for this?”

[nimbus-meh-112]

Conspiracy theory: Is Heather Chandler God?

Ok, so before we start, it’s 12:00 am where I live and I’ve been thinking about this for a few weeks. Also, this contains Christian view points, just as a warning! I’m brought up in a Roman Catholic house, so I do know quite a bit about Christianity. However, I don’t know everything, so correct me if I’m wrong. This isn’t me saying I believe in God though. There are also some key things that you MUST remember in order for this to make sense! Got that? Now, on with my theory!

Ok, so, if you’ve seen both Heathers the film and musical, you’re going to be on the same page as me and you’d know that Heather Chandler (the Heather that wears red) is basically the Queen of Westerberg High. Her crown-equivalent-thing is a red scrunchie. If you have this red scrunchie, you’re automatically crowned Queen. Red scrunchie. These two words are very important though out this theory, ok?

Now, in the musical, there’s a song called My Dead Gay Son. The song is about Kurt and Ram (the school jocks)’s funeral and their fathers are singing it. It’s basically about the dad’s acceptance of their sons’ gayness (if that makes sense) when in reality, they’re not gay they were just murdered by Veronica and JD. Within the song, one of the dads (I believe it’s Kurt’s but I’m not sure) sings, “they were just two bright red ribbons in the lord’s long hair!”.

Now, there’s three keywords in this line.

-red

-ribbon

-lord’s

Let’s start with red and ribbon.

Ok, remember when I said that you needed to remember the part about the red scrunchie? This is the moment that it comes into play.

The word “red” is pretty self explanatory. Both the ribbon and scrunchie are red in the story. However, if we were to dissect the word ribbon - like we are now - we’d remember the context of the word “ribbon” is that it’s a hair accessory, LIKE A SCRUNCHIE IS. Put them and what have you got? A red scrunchie! The crown that makes you omnipotent (all powerful)!!!!!!! Especially if you’re Heather C, who is seen wearing it throughout the show (but is joined by Heather D after her death).

Now, let’s dive into the noun “lord” (or “lord’s” If we’re getting properly technical).

Now, Christian’s (and so on) believe that God/The Lord is all loving and all powerful. If we were matching this to Heather C, I could confidently say she wasn’t all loving but she was all powerful. This is evident when we remember that she was literally like the Queen of the school. Consequently, she had power.

Now let’s put my analysing together. The song says “two bright red ribbons in the lord’s great hair!” They’re saying that God has bright red ribbons in his hair. That’s a plural, yes I know, but I’m interpreting them as individuals, ok!! We said, or rather I said, that Heather Chandler also wears red hair accessories. Both God and Heather are omnipotent.

Put two and two together and there you have it!

Heather is basically God! Or similar to god.

I hope you enjoyed this!

[wingletblackbird]

MAKE ME ADMIT STUFF ask: 6, 9, 10, 12, 17, 22, 23, 26, 30, 35, 48, 49, 50, 53, 54, 55, 57, 60, 61, 62, 64, 65, 66, 73, 74, 75, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 87, 89, 90, 91, and 92.

6. What are you excited for?

This semester being over! LOL I don’t think I’ve ever had a more stressful courseload. 

9. Is confidence cute?

Cute? No, that’s the wrong word. It is very attractive. Confidence isn’t arrogance though, and also means being able to admit you’re wrong and uncertain. I think over all, I just like strength of character. People who stand for something.

10. What is the last beverage you had?

Apple juice. I was hypoglycemic.

12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans?

No. I don’t like them, actually.

17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?

My best friend, but my mom comes a pretty close second.

22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks?

Absolutely. Sounds awesome.

23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s?

No. They’re not the same colour as my mom’s either!

26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color?

Yes.

30. Does everyone deserve a second chance?

Hmmm….Depends on the definition. I don’t believe people should get of scot-free, (oh, give them a chance!), if they do something deliberately wrong, but I do believe in forgiveness and redemption, for anyone, no matter how hard it might be.

35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore?

Sometimes, but typically only to doodle with.

48. Do you sing in the shower?

I don’t think so, but I believe I hum sometimes.

49. Do you dance in the car?

No. I don’t think I’ve ever done that.

50. Ever used a bow and arrow?

Yep! Actually I went threw a phase where I made several of my own. They weren’t brilliant, but they worked.

53. Is Christmas stressful?

No, not usually, I love Christmas, but I did have a few stressful ones after my dad died.

54. Ever eat a pierogi?

Given that I don’t know what that is…I don’t know.

55. Favorite type of fruit pie?

Blueberry.

57. Do you believe in ghosts?

I’m not sure. It depends on how you define ghost, I guess. My mom saw her mom come to see her after she passed away. I saw my dad at his funeral. He looked radiant. When my grandmother dies this happened:

She and my grandfather used to argue about to keep the basement door open or closed. She liked it closed; he liked it open. After she passed away, he opened it, and it closed. He opened it again; it closed again. It kept happening. Nothing like this had ever happened before. He couldn’t find an explanation. Finally, he said, Ruth, it’s okay, you can go now. He opened the door again. It stayed open.

Also, right before she died, my dad was at home; my  grandmother was in the hospital, and he heard her say goodbye to him. Then they got the phone call so…

I believe in something. Maybe not permanent ghosts, but people crossing the barrier after death, saying goodbye. I’ve got tons of other personal anecdotes like this.

60. Wear slippers?

Hate them. I never wear them. I don’t like shoes in general to be honest. I’d go barefoot if I could.

61. Wear a bath robe?

A lot. Very convenient those things.

62. What do you wear to bed?

Absolutely nothing, unless I’m on my period.

64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?

Walmart, I supposed, but only because I don’t know anything about the other two options. I never shop there.

65. Nike or Adidas?

Neither. I don’t care. Whichever is the most comfortable.

66. Cheetos Or Fritos?

Cheetos.

73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?

Yes. It was at my elementary school graduation of all places.

74. What is your favorite book?

The Harvest by Gene Stratton-Porter. I think a close second would be Captain’s Courageous by Rudyard Kipling though.

75. Do you study better with or without music?

Without.

80. Hot tea or cold tea?

Cold, but I rarely drink tea.

81. Tea or coffee?

Tea. I hate coffee.

82. Favorite type of cookie?

I’m not sure I have one. Cinnamon? Maybe?

83. Can you swim well?

I’m pretty good.

84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

Easily.

85. Are you patient?

I’m not sure. I can be. I didn’t used to be, but I think I’ve learned to be. It really depends on context.

87. Ever won a contest?

Yes. I got gold in a Taekwondo tournament. I was Top Sailor in a summer sailing program. I came in first place in the races too. 

89. Which are better black or green olives?

Black olives. 

90. Opinions on sex before marriage?

I sat on this ask a lot trying to figure out how best to articulate how I felt. Where do I start? I eventually threw the towel in and decided to go with the flow. I’m Christian, specifically Catholic, and I don’t believe in sex before marriage. This wasn’t something I just accepted mindlessly though. Yes, it seemed to be God’s will, but I was curious about the “why?” This curiosity was heightened by people saying that that was only because they didn’t have contraception back then, so people had to be more careful. We’ve had the sexual revolution now; women aren’t so oppressed. I decided to think about it; do some research.

So if sex is not limited to marriage, then why must it be limited to marriage? If you can have one-night stands, or friends with benefits, and it’s all about what feels good to you, then why monogamy after marriage? Unless you just really like having sex with them, but marriage is more than sex. If you follow these thoughts through to conclusion, why marry at all? Why have one exclusive sexual partner? Where do you draw the line? Who knows? Maybe that’s why there’s a correlation between adultery and contraception. What makes marriage special from any other relationship? I was already certain that marriage was a good thing. I think it’s been pretty well established that stable relationships are good for people, and that divorce hurts. It was pretty easy to convince me that sex should not be casual. Sex was for whom you would share your life with, maybe even raise children with. If it’s just casual and fun, how is it suddenly special when you marry? You’ve “done it” with loads of other people.

But what about if you’re dating? Engaged? Serious? What if it’s only ever with one person at a time? What about then? People would talk bout cohabitation, and say it would decrease divorce. I wondered: does it? I did my research, and it turns out that people who cohabit before marriage are more likely to get divorced then those who don’t. There is some speculations that age mattes in that estimation too, but it did seem clear that not-waiting does nothing to help decrease divorce. Still, if you don’t believe in divorce, and would work at your marriage why does that matter? I eventually came to two conclusions. It’s because waiting makes you more careful about your partner, and it helps avoid the issue of children until you’re ready. 

In regard to it making you more careful, let’s go back to cohabitation. You’ve had multiple partners at this point. Maybe you had sex in High School, but you’ve definitely had it in university. You get out in the real world, and struggle to find a meaningful relationship, eventually you start dating, you start staying over, you say why pay the rent in two places instead of one?, and you move in together. Eventually, people start to ask when you’ll get married. You say; well, why not? The sex isn’t bad, we get along alright, why not? It’s certainly not worth the hassle of a break up. You get married. You slip into it, and it’s not very deliberate. It’s convenient. If you wait though, you are going to be deliberate. Your spouse is going to have the honour of knowing that what they’re getting, no one else has ever received, and you are not going to “slip” into marriage. It’s going to be deliberate. You’ll put a lot of thought into it. There is evidence to suggest that “virgin marriage” are the ones least likely to end in divorce, a part of that may because those who wait are more religious, typically, than those who don’t. However, the data did also seem to indicate that that was not the only reason. Waiting for marriage, seems to do the marriage good. I don’t find that difficult to imagine. 

The second thing about children is that no contraceptive is 100% effective. Woman who contracept for 10 years straight have something like a 70% chance of an unplanned pregnancy. If you have sex, you risk having a child. If you aren’t willing to have a child with someone, you shouldn’t be having sex with them. It’s not fair that a man can causally have sex with someone, leave, and the woman be left in the lurch. Even if she has an abortion, (which I think is tragic), it’s still deeply unfair to her and the unborn child. If both couples abstain, these scenarios can be avoided. It’s also egalitarian. Moreover, it takes discipline not to give in to desire. Discipline and self-sacrifice are necessary things fro a marriage. Waiting to have sex forces you to talk about things you might otherwise forget in the heat of passion. As a woman, I am fertile, and I’m not going to pump my body full of hormones causing unpleasant side-effects, reduces sex drive (lol), and is also carcinogenic. No, thank you. I want a man to respect all of me. That includes my fertility. He needs to respect that I have the capacity to carry a child. I am a human being, not purely a vessel to satisfy his sexual needs. He needs to respect me as much as I do him. We both need to sacrifice. Waiting is good training for a good marriage. It like that saying “You wouldn’t buy car without taking it out for a test ride; why would you do that with your marriage?” How insulting! I am more than a car that you pay for and want your money’s worth from. Marriage is more than that. It is two people loving and supporting and sacrificing for each other, because they chose each other. 

I could say more on the subject, but I’m sure that’ll do. Suffice it so say I did a looot of research on this subject, and various related ones, and these are the conclusions I have come to. 

91. Best room for a fireplace?

Hmmm…Living room or den. Ideally, every room. I hate the cold.

92. Do you want to get married?

Yes. I really want to get married someday. I want to be in love, and have a partner in life, but more than that, if I’m being honest, i want kids. I really, really want kids.

[love-cats-and-girls]

I’ve never been to a funeral and I’ve been told to dress in yellow for partner’s grandfather’s. How to proceed?

My partner’s grandfather has requested that we wear yellow to his funeral. I have no idea how to begin finding a dress that is both appropriate to wear to a funeral and also yellow. Can you help or show me some examples of the sorts of things that might be appropriate? Advice about what to wear with the yellow dress also appreciated.

I don’t know if this changes the answer, but I am in my mid-twenties, short and busty with a small waist. I am pale with brown hair. The weather here is ranging from the 40s to the high 70s and rain is unlikely.

I have not been told any specific shade of yellow, but I’ve seen some of the shirts that the men will wear and I think bright or pastel would be okay. If cultural context helps, this will be a Hispanic Catholic funeral, though I am neither.

Thank you for your help. I’m very far away from home, know almost nothing about fashion (I am a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl), and have no one in my life here to ask except the bereaved. (I really don’t want to bother them.) I really need a bit of female support. <3

submitted by /u/Dankestgoldenfries [link] [comments] from Female Fashion Advice https://ift.tt/ahzLtbX

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This story is part of a series

In the four years since David O’Sullivan went missing in the San Jacinto Mountains, several other missing-persons cases have intertwined with his and one another’s.

The same group of volunteers who have been searching for O’Sulivan’s remains have gotten involved in at least three other local cases.

A woman who helped search for a missing man later disappeared herself.

And relatives of some of the missing people share a frustration with the Riverside County Sheriff’s Department for how they handled the cases. Some say they’ve been treated poorly or don’t think authorities put enough effort into the searches. In two of the cases, relatives said the first time they tried to report their loved one missing, the person they spoke to wouldn’t take the report.

Sheriff’s officials have declined multiple times to answer most questions about the cases or to respond to families’ criticism of their actions.

“You never realize what a gift a funeral is until you cannot find your loved one.”

Theresa Sturkie says her strong Catholic faith, which she shared with her husband, John, helped sustain her after her husband went missing and was found dead in 2019. At her home in Oceanside on Wednesday, May 19, 2021, she holds a cellphone with a photo of John after he summited Grey’s Peak in Colorado. (Photo by Leonard Ortiz, Orange County Register/SCNG)

Theresa Sturkie, at her home in Oceanside on Wednesday, May 19, 2021, displays photos of her and her husband John from their 1998 wedding album. (Photo by Leonard Ortiz, Orange County Register/SCNG)

Theresa Sturkie says praying the rosary has helped her cope with the disappearance and death of her husband, John Sturkie, whose body was discovered in a ravine in the San Jacinto Mountains six months after he disappeared on Jan. 4, 2019. (Photo by Leonard Ortiz, Orange County Register/SCNG)

A rosary and cellphone photo of John Sturkie are placed on the 1998 wedding album of Theresa and John Sturkie in Oceanside on Wednesday, May 19, 2021. (Photo by Leonard Ortiz, Orange County Register/SCNG)

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John Sturkie

John Sturkie, a 55-year-old electrician from Oceanside, loved the outdoors and would occasionally head out for a solo adventure without telling anyone where he planned to go. He was last seen by his family — wife Theresa and four teenage and adult children — on Friday, Jan. 4, 2019.

A month later, after Oceanside police got a warrant for cellphone tower records, they learned that Sturkie had driven up to the San Jacinto Mountains, about 90 miles northeast of his home. That led them to the record of a 911 call that proved both illuminating and devastating.

Read the series

Part 1: The mysterious disappearance of Pacific Crest Trail hiker David O’Sullivan

Map: David O’Sullivan’s 180-mile Pacific Crest Trail journey

Part 2: Who’s looking for David O’Sullivan? At first, almost no one

More: Missing in the mountains: 4 families ache for those lost

Part 3: 4 years later, searchers seek an answer: What was David O’Sullivan’s fate?

Sturkie’s truck had gotten stuck on a rough road above the Fuller Ridge trailhead. Three men who were up there to do some off-roading that Saturday found him and helped him get unstuck, according to Cathy Tarr, who has been leading the efforts to find O’Sullivan and helped Theresa Sturkie search for her husband. Tarr talked to the men several months later.

At the end of the day, with darkness setting in, snow falling, Sturkie’s truck low on gas and stuck again, the men begged him to come with him, Tarr said. Despite not having camping gear or winter clothes, he declined — and told them not to send help.

Once they got back to an area with cellphone reception, they called 911 anyway. However, “because the men told the 911 operator that Sturkie didn’t ask for assistance, it was classified as a disabled vehicle, not a rescue emergency,” the San Diego Union-Tribune reported.

By the next day, 9 inches of snow had fallen.

Once Sturkie’s cellphone pings were discovered, the Riverside County Sheriff’s Department got involved. However, multiple helicopter searches failed to find his truck, and Theresa Sturkie said investigators kept telling her he probably wasn’t up there.

But local resident Jon King, who operates the San Jacinto Trail Report website and has search-and-rescue experience, thought it was obvious the truck was out there. So he strapped on some snowshoes and found it March 15, wedged against a rock above the Black Mountain campground.

In April — with Sturkie’s body still not located — the Sheriff’s Department suspended the case, Theresa Sturkie said. But she wasn’t giving up.

King put her in touch with Tarr, and the pair went up to the mountains every week or two to look for clues. They also organized three larger searches involving dozens of volunteers.

Theresa Sturkie admits that she “kind of antagonized” the Sheriff’s Department, telling them, “Me and my mom friends are gonna go up. I just want to let you know, you might have to rescue us.”

“They kept trying to scare me from going to search, telling me it was too dangerous,” she said. “What else am I gonna do? You guys aren’t going to look for him, I’ve got to do it.”

She thinks press coverage of those efforts is what pushed the Sheriff’s Department to organize a large-scale search on June 29 that included search dogs, a helicopter and the drone team.

His remains were found in a steep ravine on the north side of the mountains; they had to be lifted out by helicopter. Theresa believes he was trying to follow the Pacific Crest Trail down to safety but missed a switchback. He had taken off his fleece jacket, his knit cap and some socks that they believe he was wearing as gloves — signs that he was suffering from hypothermia. As people freeze to death, they may actually start feeling hot and remove clothes.

Finding him “meant so much,” Theresa said. “Even though logically you know that they are deceased, there’s a part of you, being a human being, that just hopes they’re alive.”

But getting closure was a relief, especially to her children.

“The kids were so anxious — it was like the foundation of their life was dropped out from underneath them. The relief when I told them he had been found, you could just see it in their bodies,” she said. “You never realize what a gift a funeral is until you cannot find your loved one.”

Even so, her troubles didn’t end when her husband’s body was found. The coroner’s office, a division of the Sheriff’s Department, listed his date of death as June, not January, even though what was found in June was nothing much more than a skeleton. Theresa said her family almost lost out on months worth of life insurance benefits because of that.

Death-registration guidelines from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention say: “When a body has been found after a long period of time, the medical examiner or coroner should estimate the date and time of death as accurately as possible” and put that estimate on the death certificate.

She said sheriff’s officials also repeatedly refused to give her copies of their reports, which she requested initially because she wanted to see what areas had already been searched, and then later to file life insurance and benefit claims. She ended up on the phone with a sergeant who she said yelled at her.

“We’ve been through so much,” she said she told him. “If you can’t now, when can you give it to me, under what circumstances? Can you send it directly to the insurance company?” She said he finally told her no, they would never send anything to her, or anybody.

Some people at the Sheriff’s Department were helpful, she said, and she repeatedly stressed that she’s grateful to the people who found her husband and sympathetic about how hard a job the police have.

Overall, however, in that agency, “it feels like there’s this culture of not helping.”

“Hey, it’s been a long time, we need to have answers.”

Maggie Garcia Zavala, 50, at her home in in Hemet on Tuesday, May 11, 2021, holds a photo taken 10 years ago of herself and her mother, Rosario “Chata” Garcia. (Photo by Leonard Ortiz, Orange County Register/SCNG)

Maggie Garcia Zavala, left, keeps this photo of herself and her mother, Rosario “Chata” Garcia, on her dresser. The elder Garcia went missing in July 2020 after driving onto a trail near Pinyon Pines, and her remains were found nearby in January 2021. (Photo by Leonard Ortiz, Orange County Register/SCNG)

Maggie Garcia Zavala keeps a photo collage of her mother, Rosario “Chata” Garcia, at her Hemet home. The collage was displayed at Garcia’s funeral. (Photo by Leonard Ortiz, Orange County Register/SCNG)

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Rosario “Chata” Garcia

Maggie Garcia Zavala’s list of grievances is long when it comes to how her mother’s disappearance was handled.

Rosario “Chata” Garcia, who was 73 and showing signs of dementia, left her East Hemet home on July 7, 2020, and never returned. Her Nissan Altima was found two days later, stuck on a rock on a trail 40 miles away near Pinyon Pines, southeast of Idyllwild.

Garcia Zavala said a search-and-rescue team with bloodhounds and a helicopter spent only a day and a half searching for her mother out by where the car was found.

That was it until a month later, Garcia Zavala said, when they brought cadaver dogs back out to the trail.

“That was because I was pushing and pushing, telling them, ‘Hey, it’s been a long time, we need to have answers,’” she said.

In an August interview, she said that if the Riverside County Sheriff’s Department’s investigation was still active, they weren’t keeping her in the loop. When she would contact them to make suggestions, “they just kind of blow me off,” she said.

She organized her own searches on weekends and hired a private investigator to try to find answers that she wasn’t getting from the authorities.

“It kind of feels like they’re just waiting for things just to fall in their laps,” she said. “It’s not going to happen like that.”

She did eventually learn that DNA tests showed no one other than her mom had been in the car, so foul play was unlikely.

In January, Tarr — the same woman who helped Sturkie and who’s still looking for O’Sullivan — asked a group of drone operators she’s worked with to fly over the area where Garcia’s car was found.

Tarr’s team of image searchers got the drone photos on Jan. 23, and on Jan. 24 they found Garcia, Tarr said — less than 500 feet away from her car, up against some of the many large rocks covering the ground.

Tarr said she contacted authorities right away and they all tried to go out to the site the next day, but it was too snowy to get there. When she called back a few days later after the snow had melted, she was frustrated to learn they hadn’t gone back yet or even notified the family.

It wasn’t until Feb. 5, according to a sheriff’s press release, that officials retrieved Garcia’s remains. That’s also when they finally contacted her family.

“Why did they wait so long,” Garcia Zavala wonders.

Authorities told her that they think after her mom’s car got stuck, she got out and started walking. She might have slipped or sat down and fallen asleep in a rocky area.

Like in the Sturkie case, Garcia Zavala said her mother’s death certificate doesn’t list her date of death anywhere close to when she went missing, but says Feb. 5.

She said it makes her angry to think that her family could have been spared all those months of anxiety if the initial search had been thorough enough.

She’s grateful to Tarr and the nonprofit organization Tarr recently founded, the Fowler O’Sullivan Foundation.

“They did in three days what the actual Sheriff’s Department couldn’t do in seven months,” Garcia Zavala said.

“The man on the phone said, ‘Am I supposed to look for him?’”

Roy Prifogle, pictured with his daughter, Kendra Johnson, has been missing since March 2020. The then-52-year-old Pine Cove resident went on a night hike on Webster Trail and never returned. (Photo courtesy of Kendra Johnson)

Kendra Johnson, 21, and Lisa Cole, 57, the daughter and sister of Pine Cove resident Roy Prifogle, visited Webster Trail in May 2021 with some members of the Fowler-O’Sullivan Foundation. Prifogle went missing while on a hike of that trail in March 2020. (Photo courtesy of Cathy Tarr)

Tags left behind by a search-and-rescue team mark the location in the brush off Webster Trail in the San Jacinto Mountains where a backpack belonging to Roy Prifogle was found shortly after he went missing in March 2020. (Photo courtesy of Cathy Tarr)

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Roy Prifogle

Roy Prifogle, 52, of Pine Cove, enjoyed hiking at night. The evening of Wednesday, March 4, 2020, he set out for Webster Trail, a path that isn’t well-used but that he’d been familiar with since childhood.

In the middle of the night, he texted his roommate that he’d be home soon but was heading to the river to get water. That’s the last anyone ever heard from him.

His sister, Lisa Cole of Anza, said she called authorities the next day. She was concerned that he hadn’t come home yet, especially because he’d had a mini-stroke about six months earlier.

“The man on the phone said, ‘Am I supposed to look for him?’” Cole said. He told her Prifogle was an adult who was probably out doing adult things, Cole said, and if she wanted someone to look for him, she should do it.

It wasn’t until Friday, March 6, that authorities realized Prifogle was a missing hiker and began to search for him, according to Cole and Prifogle’s 21-year-old daughter, Kendra Johnson.

According to the California Attorney General’s Office: “In California, a missing person is someone whose whereabouts is unknown to the reporting party. … There is NO waiting period for reporting a person missing. All California police and sheriffs’ departments must accept any report, including a report by telephone, of a missing person, including runaways, without delay and will give priority to the handling of the report.”

Prifogle’s car was still parked near the trailhead of Webster Trail, and that weekend, a search-and-rescue team found his backpack deep off the trail.

When word of Prifogle’s disappearance got out, people in the close-knit mountain community of a few thousand residents wanted to help.

But Johnson said after the first weekend — within the time frame when Prifogle could still have been alive if he’d gotten hurt or stuck somewhere — the Sheriff’s Department threatened to suspend the search if anyone other than the authorized searchers went out to look for Prifogle. They said it would disturb the scene and compromise their efforts, Johnson said.

The day that his backpack was located, two local men had gone out to look for Prifogle, Johnson said. She learned from the men as well as sheriff’s officials that when the search-and-rescue team came across the men, authorities were so adamant that no unauthorized searchers could be out there that all four team members escorted the men back to town — leaving the trail that led away from the backpack.

“That was a bad call,” Johnson said. A storm soon hit and washed away whatever tracks may have been out there.

A couple of weeks later, sheriff’s officials became more welcoming of volunteer search efforts, according to Johnson, although they still ask people not to take risks or interfere with the official search.

Johnson said she has generally been treated well by the Sheriff’s Department. In the beginning, the deputy in charge of the case answered every question she had and made her feel better during a difficult time. Cole, however, is less satisfied, saying the sheriff’s personnel she’s tried to get updates from have treated her dismissively.

More recently, Johnson has been frustrated that authorities are “not doing the best job of communicating” and have to keep a lot of details of the case secret in case it ever turns out that foul play was involved.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful for what sheriff’s station has done,” Johnson said. “It’s easy to say that (a particular decision) was wrong, but I know they did their best, probably. I appreciate everything they’ve done.”

She’s glad that a search-and-rescue team went back out this April to look for her dad again — but she’s also hopeful now that Tarr and the Fowler-O’Sullivan Foundation reached out to her recently and want to help search.

“It feels really good just because police have been so unsuccessful since they found the backpack,” she said. “… It’s about time we start trying different things.”

“I don’t want to count her dead.”

Melissa Lane has been missing since mid-June 2020. The then-41-year-old Pine Cove resident was last seen when a cousin dropped her off at the trailhead to Black Mountain Road in the San Jacinto Mountains. (Photo courtesy of Kathy Lamont)

Melissa Lane

Melissa Lane — who helped search for Prifogle last spring because Prifogle was good friends with her cousin — was last seen in mid-June, said her mother, Kathy Lamont of Anza. Lane lived in Pine Cove and was 41 at the time.

According to Lamont, the same cousin said that sometime between June 10 and 15, he drove Lane to Black Mountain Trail, where she got out of his truck to go for a hike. She wasn’t carrying a cellphone or backpack.

Lamont said she tried to report her daughter missing later in June, but the sheriff’s deputy she spoke to wouldn’t take her case.

“He said we have no proof” that she was actually missing, Lamont said. “He said she could have hiked off the mountain and started a new life.”

She said she called back in August and asked, ‘At what point do you consider her missing?’”

Lane was finally entered into the state’s missing-persons database on Aug. 5.

Since then, Lamont said, sheriff’s officials have treated her kindly and respectfully, although she wishes they’d do more to keep her and the community informed.

Lamont said her daughter was a frequent hiker and mountain biker who “knew the area like the back of her hand.” She also acknowledged that Lane had struggled with addiction but said she was trying to turn her life around.

The past year has been agonizing for her and for her daughter’s two children, who are 19 and 11, Lamont said.

“I don’t want any other families to have to go through this,” she said.

She’s afraid her daughter may have met with foul play somewhere in the mountains. She said she prays night and day about it, but doesn’t feel Lane’s presence or energy anymore.

“I don’t want to count her dead,” Lamont said. “I’m still hopeful — but I’m not.”

How to help

Anyone with information on the Prifogle or Lane case can contact the Riverside County Sheriff’s Department at 800-950-2444.

Next in the series: 4 years later, searchers seek an answer: What was David O’Sullivan’s fate?

-on May 26, 2021 at 01:01AM by Nikie Johnson