#only if león let himself love

[sonoftartessos]

How Do You Need to Be Loved?

Deeply, like the vastness of the sea

You are a very passionate person. You feel everything so intensely, and that definitely includes love. You need someone who will match that passion, that intensity. You need someone who will care about you as much as you care about them, but you have a hard time finding that. You're usually the one who loves more, and it's sad sometimes, but it's okay. But you will find someone who loves you just as much as you love them.

[cucullas]

Favorite list of royal women | Regnant queens (who crowed herself queen without her husbands)

Been a queen regnant is not always easy specially when you are married but mor common than one would think. Here four of my favorite queen that were married and despite what society, and often the husband himself, thought decided that her lands by heritage or conquest were only hers to rule. 

i. [1081-1116] Called The Reckless, Urraca was one of the most powerful reigning Queens of her time having inherithed the kingdom of León. Upon the death of her first husband she was convinced to marry Alfonso of Aragon the most successful warrior king of the Iberian Peninsula. It went horribly wrong. Personalities clashed and Alfonso emprisoned Urraca at one point. With Galicia rebelling and the Almoravides menace the spouses still went to war againts each other. Finally they separate and while Urraca still has a long way ahead and could keep most of her lands for herself.

ii. [1697-1731] Louise Hyppolite was at her time of birth the last Grimaldi. Monaco was under French control and it was decided that man from the French King family will be Louise’s husband and rule along with her. She was married and had to leave her land with her husband. Described as shy and submissive she did not enjoy her time at Versailles. When her father was ill she came back alone to Monaco and when he died she crowned herself Princess of Monaco with the people enthusiastic support naming her firstborn heir. There is no much her husband could do and though she ruled fr a short time she did it as the sole Princess.

iii. [1717-1780] Maria Theresia’s father Emperor Charles VI of the Roman Empire, did not prepared her to rule as he was convinced that her husband would rule for her. However, she had other plans and when her father died Maria Theresa, a 23 years old set to stablish her right as a moanrch against Prussia and most of Europe. She manage to gain ruling experience and be a monarch for 40 years. Though she deeply loved her husband she did not let him rule in her name and even refused to kneel in front of him when he was elected Holy Roman Emperor as she was of highest ruler. She was Sovereign of Hungary and Bohemia and Archduchess of Austria on her own right her husband being the consort. 

iv. [1583-1663] Njinga was Queen of Ndongo after her father and brother. At the time with the Portuguese slave trade Njinga became a symbol of resistance to the Europeans. In order to gain power in the center of the region she married an Imbangala leader and learned the techniques and strategies of his people. However when she set to conquer the kingdom of Matamba and ruled there as the Queen as Matamba had tradition of female rulers. As she gained influence she was recognized as one of the great queens of the region at the time. 

[spevvy]

Although the fact I finally leapt on the CNCO train almost four weeks to the day after they officially split up is 100% on brand for my rotten luck, I'm very fortunate to have ADHD and so I have spent the last four weeks trying to cram 8 years' worth of fandom into my brain, with a level of success that has impressed even myself.

Things that especially give me extra dopamine about these doofuses:

. We don't have time for all the things I love about that idiot Vélez but I'll come back to him in a moment. In any case, let me tell you, he's such an amazing human being that I'm not 100% sure he's even real.

Stop it this instant please (don't you dare)

. Watching the official videos and still being constantly astounded at Rich's wardrobe. This is split into two levels of incredulity—a) "What the bleedin ell has he got on this time?!", and b) "There wasn't enough budget for a shirt for the poor sod again, eh?" (NB: There is rarely any budget for a shirt for Rich in any video, the poor love. Let Rich Be Warm™, FFS!) Both a) and b) are particularly evident in the Miami video, where the Rich's Shirt budget appeared to have been spent on a granny scarf. For his hair. Obvs. Because of course.

Legit son, what the fuck, did you lose a bet or something, lad?? 👀 It's like when Stewart Granger was in films in the 40s and 50s and he'd wear increasingly bonkers outfits scene after scene but he had absolutely zero confidence issues so he just owned everything like of COURSE he was gonna rock the hell out of it. Oh to have a thimbleful of Richard Camacho's self-confidence!!!!

. Every. Single. Time. I. See. Joel. Pimentel. De. León. The. Only. Thing. I. Can. Think. Is. "CABELLITO AZÚUUUUUULLLLL!!!!😭😭😭"

Never has the loss of a toy blue horse (is he just trying to not say My Little Pony, or???) ever been so heartbreaking to me 💔💔💔 Bless that small sweet boy, I just want to protect him, he takes up that one hidden sliver of maternal instinct I have lurking somewhere!! 🥹🥹🥹😭😭

. Chris' hair during the CNCO album era totally gives trans butch lesbian vibes. No I will not take questions on this. Yes I'm way more into it than I can possibly explain in polite company. Stop it, Christopher, I'm already bi. Totally here for my inadvertently genderfluid monarch.

I just want her to slam me into a wall and call me a good girl I don't know what to tell you.

. Erick Brian Colón is the visual representation of iron fist in velvet glove. He may have the face of a little angel and the biggest greenest most beautiful eyes since the invention of green - but that kid is brutal, folks!!! BRUTAL!!!!!!!!!!!

"Guess who just got MUUURRRDEEERRRRREEEDDD!"

. Two words. Lengua kiss.

Zab, sweetheart, you said it perfectly. You couldn't have improved upon it, thank you for blessing us with your lengua kisses, we are grateful.

. The amount of clever camera trickery and stage choreography involved in showing Chris actually dancing as little as possible. Before any of you come at me over this—I'm not saying Chris can't dance, I'm saying they cut around him and they do it consistently enough that it's hilariously obvious they're doing it. One of my favourite examples is in the Vevo Lite performance of Reggaetón Lento, where they just show his left elbow. Oh honey. (I marked it with a pointy finger to help you out)

I have a few theories about this but it's probably because his hips are so wiggly that if they showed them doing their thing on screen they couldn't have marketed the band to kids and that's a giant drop in revenue before they've even started. Not that I've made a study of his wiggly hips. Honestly.

. I have, however, made a very careful study of that lip-lick-into-lip-bite thing he does, and have come to the conclusion that HE is nsfw. Him. Himself. Alone. With no help. He just oozes it. Holy fudgeballs (probably). He's 100% that one guy who would openly flirt with an empty bag of crisps. "Hola, paquetito vacío de papas fritas, seguro que parece que ha pasado un tiempo desde que tuviste papas fritas dentro de ti..... te apetecería??!?!?" Seriously son, give it a rest, we're all pregnant now.

I swear to god you wouldn't be able to sit down for a fortnight. Fucking bloody hellfire. Is probably how it would be. OOOOFFFFFFFFF......

. I have literally lost count of how many times I've seen 4Ever in the last four weeks. I mean genuinely I cannot remember. I stopped counting at 12. There is no particular reason for this. I can't imagine anything that keeps my attention so solidly.

It's beautiful. I've been looking at this for five hours, now.

. "Que quiénes somos? YOU ALREADY KNOW!" My guys this has been my very problem with artists announcing themselves on their songs for at least the last decade, thank you for addressing the pointlessness of this activity but doing it anyway, I love you for it.

(Can he not? Does he ever take a day off??)

. Bringing back 90s boy band dancing with a level of aplomb I haven't witnessed since approximately 1998. And yes, I do remember. I was 15 in 1998, I was very much the target audience. Anyway, watch Mis Ojos Lloran Por Ti, it's the most authentically 90s thing I've seen since actual 90s boy band music videos.

White shirts AND white vests with black trousers in an abandoned building? ALL THEY NEED IS RAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Also the rap section of Mis Ojos Lloran Por Ti sounds EXACTLY like the rap section of Mysterious Girl by Peter Andre. It does. Go on, check for yourselves, I'm right about this.

. Tóxica. Just. Omg. Tóxica. It's beautiful. I dunno whose idea it was to do an acapella arrangement, but I hope they always hit the green light in traffic, because wow. What a song. (here it is if you're unfamiliar with CNCO, you've read this far, and you've never heard the song before. Even if you have, it's always worth another listen!)

Honestly it gives me proper goosebumps every single time, it's THE dopamine song for me, it just does all the things to my brain all at once. I was listening to all their songs on shuffle and all of a sudden I heard this one and I just stopped dead in my tracks like "holy SHIT what the hell....this is... this is stunning!" Like THAT was the moment I was like yep that's it folks this is MY band now, these are MY boys, they've got me for life whether they like it or not, I'm theirs, they're mine, that's how fangirls and musicians go, my guys (gender neutral).

. I am obviously not a native Spanish speaker nor am I 100% fluent in speaking, but after 4 weeks I've managed to learn a significant portion of their back catalogue and I am so goshdarned proud of myself. By comparison it's taken me about 5 years to learn most of Morat's back catalogue and I've been in the fandom since just before Balas Perdidas dropped.

Okay fine I have a whole different set of distractions with Morat (goddammit Monchi!!!!), we can't compare them, and it's not a "which band is better" thing at all cos I refuse to choose between any of my boys because they're MY BOYS. It's just nice from a personal viewpoint to feel like my Spanish level is now at a stage where I can pick up new lyrics to songs quite quickly!!! I feel like my Spanish has really improved in the last month and these doofuses are 100% to blame and I adore them for it and so many other things.

Suffice to say, I may be way too late to the party, but I think I get to be at least an honorary CNCOwner at this point. Without the smallest shred of doubt I know that I am retroactively CNCOwned, at any rate.

(ya tú sabes😉)

[calyxthenerd]

Tales and Secrets

“So” Leon started “You all may be wondering why we brought you all here” Marco continued “the thing is, we wanted all of our friend groups to meet, so we arranged this little reunion, since we all live in BA, but somehow, outside of a few connections” Simón picks up, looking at his girlfriend, who’s sitting with Marco, his arm around her shoulder and her head laying on his, taking a deep breath and averting his gaze to Luna, who didn’t want to be excluded from the little gathering of mexicans, was on León’s back, her chin on her shoulder, then turning to look at Marco’s cousin, who he had just met

“Anyways, we thought, that, so you guys can get to know each other, we’d play a little old school party game” Mara continued, making some eyes roll “called never have I ever” and several people protest “Shut up and let them speak!” Ámbar and Ludmila say at the same time, then stare at each other for a little while, before silently agreeing to never speak of it again

“So, first things first, everyone grab a nametag and pen, stick them in a visible spot on your chest, so everyone knows who’s speaking, and some rules, if you have done the thing, you raise your hand, and if it’s something you do not wish to talk about it, you don’t have to, but telling the story is encouraged” Leon explained, gesturing to two baskets on the table in front of him with one hand, the other still holding Luna up, everyone immediately went over and crowded the table, making him have to take a few steps back, before grabbing the items for himself, once everyone goes back to their seats and tapping Luna’s tigh so she comes down, soon everyone that was presenting this whole thing had one filled up and were sat down

Thiago piped in “So, as the oldest person in the room, I think I should start” when no one objects, he continues “Starting off strong, never have I ever been legally dead” he smirks at Helena, who glares at him, without any real venom behind it, and raises her hand, and sees Luna raise hers too, from the corner of her eye

“Okay, I need both stories, like, right now” Jazmin, the one person who sorta knows both of them, and a serial gossip, demanded, looking between the two of them

“Kidnapped during a fire” Luna said, not giving further context, from her seat between Simón and Matteo, they both wrapped their arms around her after she spoke, glaring at anyone who looked in her direction, even after six years, she didn’t really like talking about those events

“Car accident, lost my memory and didn’t really know who I was for like ten years, then, well, the rest is history” she smiles at the two guys on either side of her, and her younger sister, who decided to sit between her legs, with her boyfriend resting against her chest

“Okay, that was kinda dark, I’m sorry, I guess I’ll go now” Helena continues, looking around and thinking, before an idea sparks in her head “Never have I ever been straight” that gets a few hands up around the room, Gastón, Broduey, Jhon, Bia, Manuel, Alex, but silence, after all, that’s not exactly a story that you can tell, but Bia speaks up “wow, I really am the only non-sapphic around here” making all the girls and Pixie laugh

“My turn then” Victor chuckles, putting a thinking face on, before saying “Never have I ever fallen in love with someone before meeting them face to face” that makes Gastón, Marco and Manuel raise their hands, looking at their respective girlfriends with heart eyes

“So, as the oldest of the trio, I guess I’ll start, I had just gotten to BA, and I was at my apartment, just trying to get acquainted with the local music scene, then I see a site called youmix, that promised to show you the newest rising stars in Argentina, and I clicked on it, scrolled down a bit, and I saw her” he squeezes Fran’s hand “she looked like an angel, I had to click on it, and then I heard her sing, it was the greatest voice I’ve ever heard, and in that moment, I promised myself that I’d find that girl and try my best to get her to go out with me, and well, eleven years later, here we are” he pecks her lips

“It’ll be hard to top that one, but i guess I’ll try, so, I was on my second year of high school, and there was this girl that kept commenting on the YouTube channel of two girls I knew, and her words, her words just lured me in, and then she started her own blog to write her beautiful words, so I dusted up my old account on that platform, and we started chatting, then there was the time she stood me up on a date, that one epic phone call, the whole ordeal with her mom’s girlfriend disguising herself as her, and finally, I saw her for who she really was, the love of my life” he kisses the top of her head

“Well, we were at a party at our usual hang out spot, man I miss that place, anyways, I stepped away from my annoying cousin” he looks pointedly at Alex, who’s a few chairs away from them “to go use the bathroom, and then I heard her, she was singing, I don’t even remember what song it was, I was so distracted by her voice, and when I was playing the piano a few days later and ended up finding out who it was, I was in the clouds, being able to feel what I felt for her freely was the best thing I’ve ever experience, obviously we didn’t get together immediately, we were kids, we made a lot of mistakes, there were some obstacles, but we made it, I mean, look at the position I’m sitting in, it’s our favorite, isn’t it?” He looks up at her, and she just nods, kissing the tip of his nose

“Okay, I’m all for cheesy displays of affection and public declarations of love, I mean, just ask my wife, but we need to keep the game moving, so I’m going next” León declares, thinking for a few seconds before completing with “ never have I ever dressed up in a pink wig to see the guy I was in love with” while grinning at his wife, who glowers back at him, raising her hand, followed by one Nina Simonetti, who’s becoming Perida in a under a year, not that she knows it “mi sueño, you wanna tell the story?” León asks, still grinning

“Fine, so, I was a kid, and pretty stupid, didn’t have much experience with being an actual person back then, so I was broken up with the love of my life, and I realized I couldn’t bare to be away from him, so I was talking to my best friend about it, and we were just digging through her closet, for no apparent reason, so we found these old wigs from when she was a kid, and I had the wonderful idea to dress up as someone else so I could go see him, and well, it worked a little bit, until he fell for me all over again, since I’m irresistible, but then he ended up finding out it was, and we fell out for a while, until we couldn’t take it anymore and got back together, and now here we are, the only married ones in our friend group, your turn now, Nina, was it?”

“Yes, that’s correct, so, my dear boyfriend pretty much told the story already, so, I had this whole other identity only, but then we set up a video chat, so I put on that wig, that my best friend had lying around for some reason, and some clothes that I’d never wear as myself, and so that adventure began, until I was with my disguise, performing onstage, and in a moment of bravery, I revealed myself, and that was the end of that”

“So as not to start a war on who’s older than who, I’m going now” Celeste said from her spot, her girlfriend resting against her legs “Never have I ever done what’s consider an extreme sport” at that, the entire roller team, plus León, raised their hands

“Is freestyle skating actually an extreme sport?” Marco asked Ámbar “It is, but it’s actually pretty chill once you get the hang of it” she answers, before addressing the rest of the room “most of us who raised our hands were in the same roller skating team as teenagers” and León complemented “I did motocross when I was younger”

“Me now” Luna demands “never have I ever publicly dedicated a song to get a girl to forgive me” Matteo and Manuel raised their hands “pretty self explanatory, I screwed up, don’t even remember what I did, but I wanted her back, so I enlisted my best bro’s help to get me onstage to sing a song I wrote for her” Matteo explained, squeezing Luna’s shoulder

“Pretty much the same, but switch the “don’t remember” with “was partly responsible for a private video of her getting leaked”” a few people grimaced “not that kind of video, get your minds out of the gutter, she was just singing, anyways, and switch the “best bro” with “resident tech genius”” he smiled at Pixie “and the “stage” with “streaming platform” and you’ll have my story” he leaned up, kissing Bia’s chin

“Okay, so, this has gone on for quite a while, and since I’m one of the most organized people here, I scheduled it, and our time is almost running out, so we’ll do the last one and then we all part ways to whatever we have to do, because I know we’re all very busy people” Mara concluded

“So, since, as my dear cousin said, we’re closing up this little get-together, I’ll go now” Marco said, with his hand already up “never have I ever been personally victimized by a media-centered company” everyone’s hands went up, except Pietro, Thiago, Helena and Victor

“Youmix” Violetta said, and they all grimaced, since it had some pretty viral scandals

“Vidia” the whole roller team spat out the name, like it tasted sour to them, Simón and Matteo with an extra amount of venom in their voice, no one wanted to give an explanation and stir up those memories

“Laix” Bia said, a frown on her face, and a vague look in her eyes, clearly recalling what they put her and her friends through

“O-kay” León clapped, bringing everyone back to reality “that was quite a trip down memory lane, but I think everyone wants to go home and relax after this emotionally challenging afternoon, but to the people I don’t deal with constantly, I hope I can meet you again, in an environment where we can talk better, bye” and he grabs his wife’s hand, starting to walk to one of the exits, followed by Luna, Simón, Matteo and Ámbar, they’re going to have a cousins and s/o’s dinner

Marco, Francesca and Diego invited Mara to their place, with her boyfriend that was not invited to the function because he’s not relevant enough

The Urquiza girls and their boyfriends are going out dancing

Pedro and Nico have a sound test for a concert in a few days, Simón is doing his separately the next day, Delfi and Jazmin invited themselves to tag along

Pietro is going to make dinner for Daisy, Chiara and Celeste

Pixie is going to eat instant noodles and edit videos all night

Gastón and Nina are going to eat takeout and just enjoy each other’s company

Andrés, Maxi, Broduey, Fede and Cami are going out clubbing, they have a thing where they like to try every drink in the menu and see who gets drunk first

Naty is taking Ludmila shopping

Ramiro, Jim & Yam are going to the movies (it was a date but he invited himself)

And so, one by one, they leave the giant conference room, going to their other scheduled plans,

Right after the last group left, a group of adults very familiar to some of them entered, and a man, also familiar to a more select few, stepped up to the front “This is the support group for parents who’s children have strange occurrences happening in their lives, I am Doctor Dufré and I’m here to listen”

[blueberrywhale123]

I really like your writing. Can you what a Leonetta one shot?

Absolutely! Sorry for the wait, it took me some time to figure out a plot that I could wrap up in one post 😄

I'm still longwinded, so my apologies!

I got the idea from a headcanon I saw that said Violetta slips love notes into Leon's locker, which I thought was adorable!! Here ya go!

~~~~~

It was a perfect day for a walk; the sun was streaming through the trees, their branches so full of leaves that they formed a canopy of glowing green overhead and a light breeze whispered gently through the park. Many people were out enjoying the fine weather, walking and biking their way down the paths. León and Violetta strolled together down one of the few quiet walkways, arms wrapped around each other as if to ward off a chill that wasn’t even there. Violetta had her head resting on León’s shoulder, occasionally closing her eyes, perfectly content to let León lead her where he wanted to go.

“Are you asleep,” The chuckle that came out of León’s mouth rumbled under Violetta’s ear and she smiled to herself.

“Maybe,”

“I guess I’ll just have to carry you, huh?” Violetta felt him stop and bend to scoop her up and quick as a whip, she jumped out of reach, giggling like mad.

León grinned, holding out his hand and Violetta drifted back, shaking her head. “Fine, I’m not sleeping.”

“I can see that,” León murmured into her hair. They stayed silent for a moment, meandering out of sight from joggers and bikers, just enjoying each other’s company.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Violetta was instantly standing straight as could be, her attention focused solely on her boyfriend. León fought to keep a nonchalant look when he wanted to smile at Violetta’s wide brown eyes boring holes into his head.

Violetta forced him to stop walking and laid both hands on his chest. With a bright and cajoling grin, Violetta asked, “Where is it?”

León’s lips quirked in a smirk as he leaned down into her face, “It’s-” here he paused to tap his finger on the tip of her nose- “not ready yet.”

Violetta took the collar of his shirt loosely in both hands and ever so gently but ever so insistantly tugged, her beautiful smile transforming into an equally enchanting pout. “León, you can’t tell me you have a surprise and not be ready to give it to me! Can you at least tell me what it is?”

“Then what’s the point of it being a surprise,” León asked, finally allowing himself to fully grin at his girlfriend’s pouty face, rubbing his thumb along the hem of her shirt where his hand rested on her waist.

“Please,”

“No, no,”

“Please,” Violetta tried once more.

“Nope,”

Seeing that León was not budging anytime soon, Violetta dropped the issue with only a small venomless glare, roughly scooping up his hand to hold as she tugged him further down the lane. León merely laughed at her and followed along. They walked for five minutes in companionable silence, admiring the blooming flowers and the warmth of the sun when León spoke.

“Next week you can have your surprise.”

Violetta flashed a mild scowl. “I’m trying to forget about my very distance surprise, please.”

“Okay, sure,” León put his free hand in the air to surrender, but when Violetta turned back to watch a butterfly land on its flower of choice, León leaned close and whispered in her ear. “It’s pretty big. You’ll love it. Totally worth the wait you’ll have to go through.”

“León!” Violetta whirled around on her snickering boyfriend and fought back her disbelieving laugh.

“That was your hint,” León defended himself. She raised her hand to lightly hit his arm and León only snickered harder. Violetta covered her mouth to hide the laughter that was escaping, allowing León to tug her back into his embrace.

~~~~~~~~~

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” Olga crowed from where she was leaning in the doorway. “Could you have seen a special someone; a Mr. You-Know-Who?”

Violetta grinned so hard her cheeks felt like they were splitting as she tried to answer as nonchalantly as possible. But it was no use; León had her so besotted with love that it was impossible not to enter the house after spending time with him without the whole house taking notice of her giddy happiness.

“Well I have something that’ll fix that,” Angie said as she descended the stairs, a chipper smile on her face which foretold of doom. Hoisting a textbook into the air, Angie spoke the dreaded subject’s name: “Geography.”

Violetta sagged, “Oh no, Angie, please, not now. I won’t be able to concentrate.”

But Angie was not to be swayed. “Nuh-uh, let’s get up to your room and get busy so your dad doesn't have a reason to ban your little dates because of schoolwork, okay?”

Violetta trudged up the stairs after Angie and they cracked open the textbook, pouring over its contents for a good hour before Angie finally declared they could take a break. Violetta fell back against her mattress with a sigh and stared blankly at the ceiling, willing the maps dancing across her vision to dissipate.

“So, how was your date,”

“Great,” Violetta couldn't stop the dreamy sigh that escaped her lips, nor did she really care. It was Angie, her tutor was like a mother - well, no she was too young to be her mother, perhaps her aunt - and Violetta had never felt safer with another woman, like she could tell her anything and trust it would be kept in confidence.

Violetta sat up in bed, that special smile that peeked its way through when anything involving León came up forcing itself across her lips. “He said he has a surprise for me. Next week. He won’t tell me what it is, though.”

Angie smiled, “That does ruin the whole point of them, doesn’t it?”

“That’s not my point, Angie,” Violetta groaned goodnaturedly. “Anyways, it’s not too big of a deal. I’m excited about the surprise now, but I just really wanted him to tell me earlier.”

“Well, you’ve never liked surprises,” Angie eyes went distant before she shook out her waves and leaned forward. “You’re really happy with León, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Violetta’s eyes shone with her happiness in tandem with her response.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I was a little surprised when you said you liked León. Only because I knew León before. But, I can see why you love each other so much. All the teachers think you’re precious, by the way.” Angie patted Violetta’s knee, her smile still firmly in place.

Violetta scrunched up her shoulders, almost shy, her fingers looping around the loose thread on her bedspread. “León takes such good care of me, Angie. I didn’t even think it was possible to be so cared for and not feel smothered, but León doesn’t try to control me, he just supports me and respects me. I feel so safe with him.” Violetta looked up to ensure that she wasn't boring Angie and Angie nodded encouragingly.

“I love all the little gifts and things we do. Even when I’m upset, he finds a way to make me feel better.” Violetta’s hands sought her diary out of habit. “Sometimes I feel like I’m not doing enough for him. He does so much for me.”

“Well, you could think of something to give him. What about flowers? Even boys might appreciate some flowers every once and a while. Or a card? Something that really tells him how much you appreciate him.”

“Oh, I could write him a song,” Violetta burst out, delighted with herself.

Angie nodded approvingly. “You definitely could.”

Violetta suddenly deflated. “But it��ll take a while. What can I do in the mean time?” She sat in deep thought, geography forgotten.

“What about a note?” Angie suggested. “You write a lot so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Angie that’s perfect!” Violetta pulled Angie into a tight hug and scrambled to grab her pen. Angie laughed quietly to herself and left her charge to her project. The last sight she saw before her mind swarmed with words all begging to be expressed was Angie’s fond look as the door closed.

The next day, Violetta had held tighter to her diary than usual, her precious note to León tucked safely within its pages. It had taken her far longer than she’d thought to compose it, all her inner thoughts that she couldn’t find a way to say vying for a chance to be put pen and paper, but in the end, her desire for conciseness won out and she was able to fit a rather meaningful letter onto one page. All morning, Violetta had been near giddy with excitement and nerves, her mind conjuring scenario after scenario of how León would react to her little gesture.

She finally had her chance to slip into his locker before dance class. She had changed earlier than most and was happy to see that León was nowhere in sight - most likely getting his dance clothes on. With silent steps, Violetta crept up and slipped the note between the slots. Then she hid behind the door, partially peeking to watch for León.

He was not long in coming, Andres by his side as they chatted. Violetta watched with bated breath as he waved Andres on and unlocked his locker. The letter fluttered to his feet and León stooped to pick it up, examining it and opening it.

“Vilu!” Cami called; her and Fran all but ramming into her with a chorus of giggles. “Come on, you’ve gotta start stretching.”

“But-”

“Come on, girlie. Girl Code. We need to talk.” Camila pleaded and Francesca let out a nervous giggle that signified something erring on the important side. With a sigh, Violetta allowed herself to be dragged away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

León flipped the piece of paper over for any identifying marks but found nothing. With a shrug, he opened the letter and was met with a handwriting he was getting more and more familiar with each day. Violetta’s neat, loopy words greeted him.

Dear León, I wanted to show you how much I love you, even if it’s just a letter. I am happy that I chose you when it comes to love. You came into my life like a knight in shining armor, a blessing, and I will forever be grateful to you for making it so easy to fall in love with you. I just know that every love song I ever write from now on will be inspired by you and your beautiful smile. Mi amor, you have my heart.

León’s lips stretched into a wide grin of their own accord. He reread it before folding it back up and slipping into the pocket of his jeans which lay rolled up in his duffel bag; already he knew that he would be rereading it many times throughout the day. Heedless to the lovesick smile he wore, León entered the classroom that was filled with students in various stretching poses. He spotted Violetta immediately, like a bright light shining through the foggy night and his heart flipped in his chest when she laughed at something Francesca said. She caught his eye and his heart went from flipping to racing.

Without a thought, León strode up to Violetta, leaned in close, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. He was faintly aware of Camila and Francesca squeaking and the fact that they were fairly close by, but in the moment, nothing else mattered but Violetta’s soft warm cheek against his lips, the swift intake of breath to her lungs, and the hand that she laid to rest on his waist.

“What was that for?” Violetta asked when he pulled away, her eyes sparkling like stars, and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and hold her all class.

“Nothing much,” León’s cheeks hurt from smiling but he could do nothing else.

Violetta nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip to keep her smile from stretching from ear-to-ear. León gave her hand a quick squeeze, nodded to Camila and Francesca, and moved to do his stretches as if floating on a cloud.

It wasn’t until the end of the day when he brought up the note. As they walked along the path that led towards Violetta’s home, León said, “Thank you for the letter.” Violetta turned her face into her shoulder and grinned, clinging tight to his arm.

“I’ll write you more if you’d like.” She promised, her sweet, expressive eyes falling on him in such a way that León felt for a long time that no one else in the world existed but the two of them.

León smiled, lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed her knuckles tenderly. “I’d love that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

León was attempting his tie for the fifth time, hoping that one of his groomsmen would notice and take pity on him and his shaking hands but also hoping that they wouldn’t. It was his wedding day, he was allowed to have nerves without being ridiculed. Somewhere in the same hotel, Violetta was surrounded by her bridal party, fussing and primping to the last minute, waiting for the moment when they would finally walk down the aisle and become husband and wife. Just the thought of her sent his heart racing faster than ever. Was she as nervous as he was? All day long, León had a bundle of nervous energy pooling in the pit of his stomach as the minutes ticked away like hours. Why was it taking so long? And why couldn't he tie his tie correctly?

“León,” Andres sidled up next to him nonchalantly, his eyes flickering from side to side before he slipped a piece of paper into his hand. With a firm pat on the back, Andres turned to face León’s front and fiddled with the tie around his neck, leaving León to examine the paper.

It was a letter, Violetta’s loopy script as familiar as home now after so many years. Peace flooded his body as León unfolded the letter, only remembering the outside world when Andres tilted his head for better access to his collar.

Mi amor, Today is the day. It is such a special day that I thought I would do something for old time’s sake. You don’t know how much I’ve longed for this time to come, where I can walk down that aisle as the wife of León Vargas, the love of my life. Knowing you has been the adventure of my life. This is our beautiful love story and we are never meant to be apart. And I want you to know that although singing is who I am, so is loving you. Throughout the years, you’ve been my support and my strength, I have flourished with you by my side and I can’t wait to continue this next step of life with you. I will never regret choosing to love you, my prince, my precious love. There is no one I feel safer with than you. Let’s walk hand and hand forever. Be the lyrics in my song. Te quiero mucho, Your soon-to-be wife, Violetta

León folded the letter, his eyes misty, his mouth beaming, and looked up when Andres patted his shoulders. “Tie’s done.” His best man said before leaning closer. “Feel better now?”

León laughed, his nerves replaced with or perhaps revealing themselves to be overwhelming excitement, and said, “Yeah, let’s not keep the bride waiting.”

[doueverwonder]

This is going to be SO disorganized, ignore me and my rambles no order just everything in whatever order I think of it in.

TEXAS his name is Lázaro Carlos Jones-Gómez, he regularly goes by Charlie, you can call him Carlos but do not call him Lazaro, he only has that name bc he was baptized with it. If you call him that though you will get his attention immediately bc his brain will think you're his mother (Mex if that's not clear) cause she is the only one who calls him that.

He's a little shit and I love him bc he's my little shit.

I accept no interpretation of him that's white bc why would you do that to him.

I've said this before but he's twins with Coahuila (Mariana Talía) who I can't actually talk about that much bc she's not my oc BUT she is older by 7 minutes, and they share a braincell and a half and usually don’t know where it is :\

speaking of other states he and Nuevo León (Jacobo) get in no less then 3 fist fights a year for absolutely no reason besides they’re idiots and like to beat each other up.

Speaking of fights, Charlie is missing a tooth, has 101 stories of how it got knocked out, most ppl don’t actually know which one is the truth (none of them he fell out of a tree).

Someone take his guitar away I beg, he gets 10 time more annoying when he has it. Which Tennessee (Annabelle) taught him how to play said guitar, everyone hates her for it. He's a decent player, and has a pretty okay singing voice, they're all just sick of listening to him.

Bc I have to have at least 1 very stereotypical thing, he has the largest cowboy hat collection this side of the Mississippi. Give him the most specific event, he has a hat for it.

He didn't talk till he was like 3-4 but oh boy is my man making up for it now, he doesn't stop. Talks with food in his mouth and in his sleep.

Refuses to speak Spanish to most other personifications bc spite but will absolutely be interpreter for any stranger on the street who needs help.

Bc I think it's funny gets to have the 'am I catholic or protestant?' debate.

His first about year of living in DC he barely spoke English and bc of that attached himself to the--at the time--only other native Spanish speaker in the house, Florida complained to Al everyday bc "I'm a babysitter now!" but wouldn't say shit to her Carlito over it ever.

His favorite shows of all time--despite their inaccuracies--are Gunsmoke (1955-75), and Zorro (1957-59)

Speaking of nicknames; Carlito was his main nickname for a long time, used to distinguish him from Cuba. Most of Latin America + Florida still call him that. Carlos = Cuba//Carlito = Texas. He started going by Charlie bc he didn't want to be called Carlito anymore, but being called Carlos felt weird bc no one ever called him that. So Charlie.

He has vitiligo bc I once saw a drawing of someones oc and it legit looked just like how I imagine Charlie and their oc had vitiligo so it just got pressed into my mind.

Also he was one of those kids who was super blond but by the time he was like 12 he wasn't anymore.

So y'all know my hc is personifications have a mom and dad, most of the states (US and Mexican) had 2 human parents and were eventually 'adopted' by Alfred or Rosa.

There are exceptions to that and Coahuila and Texas are one of them, way back when like 1820s Rosa (Mex) and Alfred were dumb and did a thing proceeded to have an extremely panicked nine months and an even more panicked "holy shit there's TWO"

So Charlie gets such a super fun family dynamic we love it for him.

I can't listen to Mama's Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys without crying now bc of him. I love Charlie, he is my son, I've put so much work into him bc I love him.

[daughter-of-melpomene]

Okay! So! I adore Our Flag Means Death so much and I gotta know what is your boy Carlos de León doing in the last episode where all the shit goes down with Blackbeard?

MIMI, BLESS YOU AGAIN FOR ASKING ABOUT MY BABY CARLOS. And the last episode is... an event for him, so let's go:

⤷ So, after the ending of the previous episode and Ed and Stede getting taken away for the King's Navy, Carlos is kinda…freaking out, to say the least. He still hasn’t quite admitted to himself that he has feelings for the both of them, but he’s feeling their absence keenly, and now fucking Izzy, who Carlos has hated from day one, has taken control of the Revenge? My boy is going through it, to say the least.

⤷ But he’s doing his absolute best to hide it, of course, because nobody else is freaking out this much about their co-captains being gone and he’s not supposed to be feeling this much for them. So he lets out his stress by defying Izzy’s orders and talking back to him at every turn, spouting some truly iconic insults and a lot of Spanish curse words.

⤷ He also takes part in the crew meeting where they all decide to oust Izzy. Oluwande actually suggests that Carlos should be the new captain, since he has a ton of sailing experience, but Carlos refuses on the grounds that he’s not much of a leader (and also because he’s still sad about his crushes not being there and he’s worried about that affecting his ability to take care of the crew) and definitely raises his hand when everyone agrees that Olu should be the new captain.

⤷ Plus, my boy will take any excuse to throw Izzy overboard. He’s been dreaming about it since about an hour after meeting the bastard.

⤷ So they’re about to toss Izzy overboard, and Carlos is practically vibrating with joy at the thought, and then Ed shows back up and stops them.

⤷ And Carlos is happy to see him, of course he is, but the main thoughts going through his head are one, if he’s back, then where is Stede, and two, why won’t Ed talk about anything that happened while they were gone, or even talk to or look at Carlos?

⤷ He tries to talk to Ed several times, but either Ed looks at him in silence with a kicked puppy face or just straight-up pretends he isn’t there, because Ed already knows he loves Carlos just as much as he loves Stede and seeing him just makes him relive all the pain that he felt sitting on that dock waiting for Stede, because the two of them had been planning to make their way back to the Revenge and get Carlos before they left for China, but now Stede’s left him and he doesn’t fully trust Carlos not to leave him too.

⤷ But then Ed does a total one-eighty and seems super happy and cheerful again, but he’s also not really acting like himself so Carlos is no less worried, even if he’s actually talking to Carlos again (but he still won’t answer any of Carlos’s questions about where Stede is and what happened when they left, and Carlos is just… going through the ringer right now).

⤷ And then Izzy tricks the crew (minus Frenchie and Jim, which Carlos knows is weird immediately, and when Lucius hasn’t been seen since last night, which Carlos is kinda freaking out about because the ship is not that big) into getting off the ship and onto that tiny island only to pull the ship away and leave them there, and it gets so much worse.

⤷ Carlos is completely reeling and about one shitty thing away from a mental breakdown at this point, because now one of the men he loves (and yes, in his panic, he can admit his feelings to himself) has gone completely mad and abandoned most of his crew to die, and the other one is nowhere to be found and could be dead for all he knows.

⤷ In terms of actual shots, I can picture Carlos running to the edge of the island and yelling after the retreating ship, and at some point he yells, “Ed! Edward!” and it cuts back to Ed’s face softening for a second as he watches the crew grow smaller in the distance, and he just looks devastated, before he goes right back to his stoic Kraken face.

⤷ And then for the final shot of the episode, where Stede is waving to the crew from his tiny boat, I imagine that Carlos is actually the one who spots him, and the smile that breaks across his face could honestly break his face in half, because Stede is alive and he’s here to help them and maybe, maybe, everything’s going to be okay now.

And yeah, that’s my thoughts on Carlos in the finale!! If you have any other questions or asks, feel free to send me an ask!!

[ Send me an episode/chapter/scene/ect. and I'll tell you what my OC was doing during it ]

[adsagsona]

Jared logically knew that what he was giving was a treasure to León, but there was nothing that the gold could buy that he would need. When the young man in his arms told him that he was going to return the favour somehow, the merman slowly nodded.

Carefully Jared moved them both closer to the coins and let León take what he wanted and could carry. They could make a return trip, but only together. A human would never be able to swim this deep on his own without losing his life.

Fascinated the merman looked on, he had not taken something of this treasure for himself but now he picked up one single coin, because he loved shiny things. His other arm was still firmly wrapped around León, not intent on letting go.

As the young man gestured that they could go, Jared wrapped both arms tightly around León and shot up to the surface and rapid speed. They popped up out of the water quickly and Jared laughed. "Now that... was fun."

León tried to ignore the suspicions about cursed shipwrecks. Instead, he revelled in the generosity his new friend showed him. The boy once living on the streets of Barcelona could never have imagined someone being this kind. 

Nothing to repay? That couldn’t be right. No one did something for nothing. And Jared already did so twice. I will not accept that! I will return the favour.

When they drew close enough to the coins, León kept a single hand on Jared and reached out to scoop up the treasure. Silt fell away from what seemed to be a few coins, revealing a pile. And León finally made out a rotted overturned chest. 

He looped a few necklaces over his head and carried what else he could. If he had both hands, he’d have been able to take more. But he fought back his greed, aware of Jared’s eyes on him and fearing the spirits.

Once finished, he wrapped himself around Jared and gestured to return to the surface.

[dollsbite]

☆. . . before the storm

ft. antón castillo + fem! reader, diego castillo and reader (platonic)

warning: hints of a toxic relationship, canon-typical violence, antón basically comes with his own warning lmao

despite the golden warmth of the setting sun peeking through the windows of the capitol building, a storm was slowly brewing.

you and your son sat in your husband's office. he was having a meeting with his most valued general in the conference room across from you, discussing their approach to combat the rioters in esperanza. it was a normal routine for you to gaze outside of the windows once the sun began to set, however, the crown city was in utter chaos: the demonstrators were anything but peaceful as they clashed with antón's forces, fighting tooth and nail. how could you enjoy the beauty of the sky as esperanza burned? the smoke tainted the scenery you loved so much. maybe this served as a morbid reminder that the man you'd married was at the center of this destruction.

"it looks amazing, mijo. you're so talented," you watched contently as diego applied the finishing touches to the model car he built - a blue 1956 beaumont valentina. though he wasn't your biological son (the tabloids pointed in the direction of the minister of culture), you cherished diego like he was your own, something that surprised you as your bond strengthened: the idea of being a mother never crossed your mind, you hadn't even thought of marriage.

diego tore his attention from his car to focus on you, pulling one earphone out as he smiled, "thank you, mamá."

"no need to thank me, i'm just telling you the truth," you grinned.

you allowed the boy to return to his project, turning your attention towards the book in your hand. you weren't enjoying the story, however; you had a hard time grasping the storyline as you were more worried about the violent protests occurring outside of the torre de león. a part of you was glad that diego was preoccupied, that he didn't have to hear the horrors happening outside. the other wished he'd listen to the screams, realizing how truly awful his father was.

the grand doors opened and your husband walked in. his presence was heavy, much to the point that you didn't even need to look up to know who it was. perfectly shined shoes stopped behind your son's chair.

"it's beautiful, mijo," antón's voice drew diego away from placing the mirrors on the car. diego stopped tapping his foot to the rhythm of his music, taking off both of his headphones to talk to his father,

"perfect," antón continued his praise, "but useless."

you frowned at his unnecessary comment, placing the book aside. you wished antón would just compliment diego instead of always having to shoot him down, to tear down his self-esteem only to build it back up. you wanted nothing more than for antón to stay in that meeting for a few more hours, allowing diego to just be a kid.

antón didn't acknowledge you as he sat down in the empty chair beside his son, "i have something for you, diego. give me your hands."

diego curiously held out his two hands, his father placing his own larger hands into his son's. antón dropped a heavy object into the palms of diego's hands, pulling away to reveal a grenade.

"papa - " diego retracted, noticeably tense at the sight of the explosive.

"antón, no. diego's gonna hurt himself," your protests went unheard as your husband continued,

"now, there is four basic parts: the shell, which contains the explosive. the fuze, the handle," antón pointed to each part, "and of course, the pin."

antón lingered on the pin before he pulled it out. the metallic ring rattled in your ears as you stood up in horror.

"what are you doing?" diego panicked as his father wrapped his hands around the startled boy's.

"breathe, diego. breathe. the pin simply holds the handle in place; it is only when you let go that this grenade goes boom," antón explained, too calmly for someone with an active grenade in front of him as he gestured his hands in the motion of an explosion.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" your furious voice cut through the tense air as you watched the sweat practically drip from your son's forehead.

"nothing is wrong, mi amor," his voice was cold and authoritative, devoid of any tenderness as he gazed at you with a deep frown. those sharp eyes lingered on you as if waiting for your response; almost urging you to speak up against him again.

you held your tongue, choosing to glare at your husband in disapproval.

antón stood up from his seat, "follow me,"

diego gulped, staring down at the grenade.

"now," your husband ordered.

with no other choice, you and diego followed in antón's footsteps. the journey to the top of the torre de león was short, however, it felt like an eternity. you could easily hear diego's heavy breathing as he trailed behind his father, clutching the grenade tightly. in an attempt to soothe him, you placed a hand on his shoulder, to let him know that you were right behind him and you weren't leaving anytime soon.

"i am el presidente, which means that someday, you will be el presidente and our people, they do not know how to be happy," your husband rambled, "they are torn apart by opinions, noise, indecision; strangled by their own freedoms."

you offered one of the guards a painful smile as you strutted past. your son still held the grenade firmly in his hands as he moped, the sweat forming on his forehead noticeably dampening his hair. he grimaced once he placed his feet on the first step of the staircase. your own hands were growing clammy, nails digging uncomfortably into your palms.

"and even if you have love in your heart, even if you want what's best for them, if you only want to save them from themselves," the masked, heavily armed guards saluted you when you made it up the entrance to the roof. antón opened the door to the roof, the sudden harsh light blinding.

"they will hate you, diego. whatever you say, do, believe, will be wrong," your husband explained bluntly.

with his attention fixed on the explosive in his hands, diego's foot became caught in a stray wire, causing the horrified boy to stumble. you quickly reached out to steady him, arms wrapped around his waist as you stared at him with widened, frightened eyes. your son nodded stiffly in appreciation, throat dry.

your husband, still not meeting your eye once, retrieved a cigar from his crisp, white suit. he pulled the roll of tobacco to his lips, lighting it and inhaling a long drag of smoke. a cloud of grey drifted from his lips.

"they will answer your screams," antón held a hand out to diego to join him at the edge of the roof. you reached out briefly to keep him close to you but to no avail, "call you evil. a monster."

with nothing more to do, you wrapped your arms around yourself, staring over the ledge to witness the demolition below. your efforts proved fruitless because they always did: you knew, deep down, that you were nothing more than a doll to stand at your husband's side, to smile and look pretty as he tainted yara's very core and poisoned your impressionable son with his measly propaganda. you were a helpless rabbit trapped in a wolf's den, doomed to perish under his rule.

there were a few protestors that were surrendering, their arms folded behind their head as they gave into yara's special forces, most likely succumbing to exhaustion.

"they will give you this," antón pulled the grenade closer to diego's eyes, revealing a crudely written message on its back:

muerte a castillo.

"so you tell me," antón's voice become grave, "are you, mijo? are you. . . a monster?" diego shook his head at his father's words just as a protestor tossed a firey molotov cocktail into the window of a vacant car.

"because our country is like this grenade except it has two basic parts: our people," antón motioned to the unruly crowd, "and you," he placed a hand on the boy's chest. diego closed his eyes and breathed in deeply at his father's words, "and you must clutch them nice and tight or we all go boom."

"do you understand now? prove it." antón urged the boy forwards, the grenade held high.

no, you couldn't let this happen. you couldn't let your son become a cold-hearted monster, driven by antón's own sick, twisted delusions of paradise. yet, you cowered behind him, not daring to stop him. maybe you were just as pathetic as your husband.

the shrill screams of your people echoed in your mind and your heart sunk, knowing that diego had dropped the grenade. some scrambled to their feet but you knew their efforts were in vain. you quickly averted your eyes just seconds before the blast went off. it was an action that you felt great shame for, the savage voice in your head hissing at you, reprimanding you for not saving them.

you knew their blood was on your hands. your mind raced but just as own blood trickled from your cut palms, you realized what you had to do:

get the hell of yara and never look back.

[obeymeshallwedate-latinplayer]

Traditional costumes (Part 1) (GN!MC)

Hello there my darlings How´s it going? First of all, I must say the following:

OMG YASS! YASS I CAN DO IT!!! There are so many that It´s sad I can only put 11 of them but YES YES I´LL DO IT. I´m actually really excited about this, that we will have to parts of it! 

Second: Thank you!!! Today we are 308 followers!!!! For me having this number of followers it´s still a dream, and I really loved so much the idea of the typical costume, that it will be a 308 followers special divided in 2 parts, welcome to the first part. Thank you for following! I will keep doing my very best!!

Lucifer (Jarocho Veracruz)

Lucifer was walking by, when he saw you taking care of a big white dress, the first thing he thought “A brides dress?” He wasn´t enterally wrong, but he wasn´t right.

He asked you nicely what were you doing and why did you have a bride’s dress. The only thing you could do was laugh, Lucifer might be the all mighty one above the seven brothers, but sometimes he was too naïve. Or maybe that was just your imagination.

He saw the embroidery in the apron that was over the skirt, and he wondered: How many hours it took to do that embroidery?  Even the skirt was way to thick, and sometimes he forgot that humans had many ways to dress up. He touched the fabric, even that red fabric was so beautiful How was it called? Rebozo?

He looked so intrigued that you decided to tell the story about the dress.

“In the colony time, Veracruz were one of the most important ports around the world. Spanish women stayed in Papaloma´s river basin, the wore big old dresses, with thick fabric, but in Veracruz that doesn´t take place, not back then not even now, it´s beach and it has a humid climate. The Spanish and creoles used to dress a colorful skirt and an apron with embroidery flowers, also a shawl with lace, and silk ribbons, even a hand fan, by the other hand, indigenous and mestizas women used to use flowery skirts and blanket blouses with a rebozo and their hair were braided. But the dress of the Spanish and the creoles didn´t work out, the weather was so hot that they simply decided to use cotton and organdy. But I guess, this “new” dress was used for the creoles wedding dress. Now a days is typical to be use in folkloric dances.”

For someone like Lucifer, he didn´t waste a second, and he dreamt, maybe in some years you could use that dress on your wedding day.

Mammon. (Charro Jalisco)

He was sneaking into your room, for sure he was searching something to steal and then sell it, maybe the great Mammom would buy something for you, something nice. His human must use something nice, maybe a necklace. He knew that you kept your precious little something in the closet, so he check it, and oh surprise, that ain´t little.

That was a heavy suit for a human your size, and are those silver buttons? He was actually impressed, he looked to every single detail in the costume, that hat is actually so beautiful that he needed to use it, no matter what, he needed to put that in his head.

That´s why you discover him, he was in front of your mirror, you took a mentally note, he needed a charro suit to, maybe you will teach him the folklore dance. When he heard you laugh he started to blush, saying that he wasn´t doing nothing at all. 

“Mammon. Would you like to hear the story of this suit?” His eyes had that childish sparkle, and he immediately sat in your bed, waiting for the story.

“The charro suit started from decades away, in the colonial time, must say in the XVI century, with a very fine work, with gold and silver buttons, embroidery of golden thread. But, you know, only the wealthy ones could use the accessories, the intelligent ones, would make their owns, with maybe some paint, and creating the best suit of them all, just like the saying says. “El charro de cuero se viste, por ser lo que más resiste”.   Now a days mariachis and dancers use it, and also some horse riders for exhibitions. “

Mammon was as happy as a child, he needed that suit from old centuries, maybe Lucifer had one.

Leviathan (Azteca Tenochtitlán (This city does not longer exist, it´s not even a state) ) 

  Levi was sitting in the living room, when he heard something, were does bells? No way that noise wasn´t a bell one, it was more like a bone sound, so he followed the sound, and there you where, in the garden, with your full costume, dancing for the gods and for practice, you didn´t want to forget the dance your ancestors made so many centuries away.

When you felt the presence of him you turned around and smiled at him. “Levi, do you like my Hueseras? My grandpa made them for me! Aren´t them cute? Oh maybe you prefer the penacho? It´s so hard to find the Quetzal feathers.” He just stopped breathing, you looked just like that final boss of the game: “Trying to avoid to be a sacrifice for the Gods and keeping my heart on my chest.”

He just nodded, after that a big silence started between the two of you. So you decided to keep dancing, and he was just there watching you, with stars in his eyes, and you decided to tell him the story about the clothing,

“Before the conquest, my ancestors used to use beautiful clothing, with animal skin and feathers of birds, they made each outfit for each person in the social pyramid, the Tlatoani used the Penachos, also some bishops did it too, and head military ones, usually the military were decorated with  gold and seashells, and a difficult headpieces, women if they weren´t in the high society used to use Huipiles and Quexquémitl, with skirts and natural pigments.”

Levi was amazed, just like in his game, but this time he needed a translator to understand those words you said, he wanted to use one of them too.

“Now, how about I teach you how to dance.”

Satan.  (Traje elegante Nuevo León) 

Satan had been invited to an opening from a new restaurant in Devildom, sometimes he would ask himself if it was fine for him to go alone for this type of events. Today he wanted to take you out for a nice dinner. Formal clothing, or that´s what it says in the invitation, well you had the fanciest clothing in the whole world just in your closet, so you took it out, you prepared yourself and you were ready to go. The avatar of wrath didn´t mention a thing, although you clothing of tonight was stunning and tons of looks were on you that night, after few drinks, and you telling every demon, that the mezcal of your country was ten times better than the drink in the Devildom, some of those demons actually asked. “Why are you in a custom?” Oh dear, not even Satan could make something when you picked the microphone. “Demons, this ain´t a costume, now, sit and listen to the story of this magnificent outfit. It all started in the colonial age in Mexico, Nuevo León did not had that extraordinary change from the conquest, actually the indigenous were nomads and we don´t have much of their cultural information.  Women and men needed to have a hard character. In 1960 the dress maker Ramón Validosera made this beautiful suit for all of us, in 1970 it was one of the most important yet one of the greatest folkloric costumes in Mexico. This suit was made for the ones that will work hard enough in the fields, even though the women one is more complex than the male one.” After the explanation they stopped watching you with smirks in their faces, they actually asked if you could take a photo with them. When the party was over, Satan took your hand and escort you back to the house. “You didn´t mention that the suit was made for a beer festival”. He told you, and you laugh. “It wasn’t necessary. And it will be our secrete.”

Asmo ( China poblana Puebla)

Asmo had this epiphany, he had seen a folkloric dance of Mexico so long ago, and he just remembered it, he was sitting in one of the library armchairs, watching an old photo album, wondering if you were in the house, he started to seek you. When he heard you in Levi´s room he took you away.

“Mc! You are from Puebla, right?” You made a silent nod. “So, do you own one of the folkloric dress?” The question leaves you thinking. “I guess, but is in the human realm.” With those words Asmo actually begged Lucifer for authorization to go into the human realm.

When you arrived into your house, Asmo asked you nicely if you could tell him all about the dress. “Well, the story starts in the Colonial age, the legend says, that a chines woman was sold as a slave, but ended up in the hands of the richest. Actually she wasn´t chines nor from Puebla, she was a princes from Mongolia, but they were in a war so she was captured and sold as a slave, from hand to hand was sold, just like Malinche, anyway she found a good person that protected her, and then she married a merchant in Puebla, after that she lived until her 70´s. Her clothing was so beautiful and weird for the age, in one part beautiful Indigenous colors and in the other Spanish silk, with big ornaments in her hair. After some years they improve the dress, It consists of a white short-sleeved shirt, low on the chest, made of fine cotton embroidered with various colorful motifs. The skirt is a long skirt of thick fabric in dark red, with embroidery on the front that reproduce the national symbols: the eagle devouring the serpent perched on a cactus, or the Aztec calendar. The outfit is completed by a fine silk shawl in the tones of the colors of our national flag; and the one that requires the bun braided with tricolor bows, several necklaces of paper beads and large gold earrings.”

When you finished the story Asmo was tearing, a poor young woman who was sold by a men, but she found true love, was just, too beautiful.

After that he made you use the dress and well, the rest is story.

Let´s learn some Spanish and more than that:

Malinche: Indigenous women that helped Hernán Cortés for the conquest in Mexico. And it´s also a volcanos name, so be careful when you talk about her, you might be talking about the volcano. 

Huaseras: Bells that are included in the aztec dance, also known as: Ayoyotl. 

Penacho: Set of raised feathers that certain birds have on top of their heads

Quetzal: Bird from Mexico, in Nahuatl the name means long tail of bright feathers. 

Tlatoani: Head of the Aztec society, something like a president. 

El charro de cuero se viste, por ser lo que más resiste” :  The leather charro dresses, for being the thing that resists the most

Rebozo: Shawl or cloak of cotton, wool or silk of various colors, used by some village women to cover their heads, shoulders, chest and back as a coat; It is also used to wrap and carry a child.

[sonoftartessos]

León cleared his throat as he listened to Ignacio’s praise. He had given most of his life to the promise of God’s love. But to hear Ignacio say that he was the future made him warm with pride. ‘I have only done as you instructed.’ He ran a hand over his knee, smoothing out a crease. He needed more guidance if he was going to do any real good in the world. 

‘Faith?’ His brows furrowed as he sat back, trying to understand what Ignacio meant. But his thoughts were interrupted by the continuing conversation. The more praise Ignacio piled on him, the warmer he felt. It was as if he was back in that fire.

For the last few days, León had tried not to think of the church he destroyed. But now, it was all that was on his mind. 

Butterflies danced in León’s stomach when Ignacio said something about spending the night together. But they settled when he continued to mention questions. León didn’t know if it was a crude assumption or loneliness making him think that way. But he was ashamed the moment he did. 

He let out a breathless chuckle in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. ‘You have already given me everything I want.’ Except instruction. Which was what tonight was for. 

León went to open his side of the booth but stopped himself. He /did/ have one question. ‘What did you mean about faith? It is not something that can be… It is not a physical thing.’ Did he mean money? It wasn’t unheard of to accept a tithe from the faithful. But why not simply say that? 

Forget him? Never. "How could I forget my future?" Ignacio smirked and looked through the slits of the confessional to take a peek at the human. "My boy, I have wonderful plans for you. But I needed to stay away to pave your way." Ignacio stared back with a big confident grin as he began whispering. This was a good place to have the conversation.

"As I told you before, we Elohim require the Faith of those pious enough to support us." Ignacio took a deep breath, reminiscing his greatness in the time when the world was still young. "I need you to collect Faith and bring it to me. As my Apostle, you are in charge of offering this to me, offering me everything the pious have to offer in exchange of my blessing." He had laid the terms of their offer in the past but perhaps it was time to actually draw the lines required. "Trust me, when you told me the Enslaver turned his back on you, I felt your desperation... it tasted the same as my own when He turned His back on me back then." The War of Wrath was one of the darkest chapters in Elohim History. "But it was exactly what we required to start all of this."

"Thank you, for burning the church, for declaring your faith, you had proven yourself." A large smile plastered on Ignacio's face. "You must help gather Faith and give it to me," he added. "And for that mission, we shall be visiting a friend. Then I would like you to spend the night with me... I bet you have million questions that I think you are ready to receive." Ignacio raised an eyebrow. "Tell me, child, is there anything that you require before we meet him?"

[estamos-destinadas]

So, I recently--and by that I mean this past week--started working on a new story idea for Juliantina.

I’ve had a bad case of writer’s block these past couple of months--the ideas are there, I just couldn’t seem to put them into words. It was such a relief to me when, after I thought of this idea, the words just started flowing.

Since this story has me really excited, I thought I’d share the first half of the first chapter of the story. As always, I won’t post it on Ao3 until it’s done. And please, if you can, refrain from reblogging 😅-- I kinda feel guilty when I see my story ideas going around and they’re unfinished.

Anyway, story under the cut (please work because this is long.)

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On Earth Year 3010, the year Juliana turned ten, she and her mother, Lupé, left the slums of Santonio for the Palacio del Progreso.

The Progreso was in fact a sprawling estate, the “Palacio” in its name taken from the grand mansion at the heart of it. It was the residence of the Carvajals, whose patriarch, León Carvajal, was one of the Administrators of the Nor-Am Oligarchy. The thirteen Administrator families were descended from the billionaires of hundreds of years ago, their riches accumulating with each new generation, wealth unchecked becoming power unopposed until North America stopped pretending to be a democracy and became a nation ruled by its thirteen richest families.

Juliana did not know that particular history. In the slums, education was a fever dream, and there was no time to dream. She did know—she could observe—that the Progreso was as different from Santonio as it was possible to be.

Where Santonio had murky canals, the Progreso had crystal clear pools; where Santonio was blanketed with smog, the air within the Progreso’s perimeter was cleaned by powerful purifiers; where Santonio was all filthy and derelict buildings, the Progreso was true to its palatial name; where the ground of Santonio could barely grow weeds, the Progreso’s greenhouses and gardens boasted plants and flowers and trees that no longer occurred naturally in Earth’s poisoned soil.

Lupé had taken a job as one of the caretakers of the Progreso’s gardens. Lucía, an old friend, and now León Carvajal’s new wife, had gotten it for her. She and Lucía had used to work at one of the factories owned by the Carvajals, where they’d worked 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, all through the year for little pay. But then León had seen Lucía and had fallen in love, taking her to the Progreso. Lucía, who would not forget the life she’d led until then, had found jobs for her old friends within the estate’s walls.

In the Nor-Am Oligarchy, connection mattered.

That connection gave Lupé a job with gentler hours and better pay. The connection meant that she and her daughter could live in the staff’s compound within the Progreso, in an apartment that was much bigger than their old matchbox of a room in Santonio. It meant that Juliana could stop taking odd jobs to supplement their income, could stop worrying about her next meal. It meant that, finally, she could start getting her education.

⁂

Education was a completely new experience for Juliana and, at first, it felt like butting her head against a wall, or maybe trying to breathe underwater in one of Santonio’s canals.

It did help, however, that León Carvajal provided air-conditioned vehicles for his residential staff’s children, which daily took them outside of the Progreso, through affluent but smog-filled streets, and to a nearby school with air-conditioned buildings. It also helped that the Progreso’s main library was open to its residents, from the Carvajal family, to their guests, and even to the estate’s numerous staff and servants.

Every day, after school, when the other kids went to play in the rec area of the staff’s compound, Juliana went to the library, trying to catch up to classmates who had been going to school their whole lives.

That was where she met Valentina, almost a month after she and her mother arrived at the Palacio del Progreso.

Juliana, having taken a break from reviewing her lessons, was flipping through a book about 21st-century art—an actual paper book, that was how rich the Carvajals were—when she heard the sound of poorly-suppressed sobs. It was coming from a nearby row of kiosks, where one could download books and magazines and all sorts of digital media to their own personal devices.

Juliana decided to investigate. She passed by the kiosks, looking through the gaps between them, until she saw a girl sitting at a table near the windows. The girl, who was gazing downwards with her shoulders hunched, seemed to be her age. Juliana hesitated for a moment before approaching the girl.

“Estás bien?” Juliana asked.

The girl’s shoulders stiffened, her soft sobs cutting off, but she made no reply.

“Necesitas algo?”

“Estar sola, necesito… estar sola.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I heard you crying and I thought—” Juliana cut herself off. What was she thinking, bothering someone who clearly wanted to be alone. “You’re right,” she awkwardly scuffed the sole of her shoe against the marble floor. “I’ll let you be.”

With that, Juliana turned on her heel, but she had only taken one step away before the girl called out to her with a, “Hey, sorry, wait.” When Juliana turned back to her, the girl added, “I think—I think I’m fine, thank you.”

If the tears in her eyes did not tell Juliana that the girl was lying, the way her voice shook did. Her heart went out to the sad girl, who had the prettiest face Juliana had ever seen, though her brain filed that information away for later.

Juliana sat on the chair across from the girl. “So, what is it?” she asked, frank as any ten-year old. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to help solve the girl’s problem, even though she’d just met her, even if she didn’t know who she was.

The girl wiped her tears before launching into it. “My dad wants me to go to school! I don’t want to go to school. I want to stay here and read what I want to read, not what schools think I should read. And I want to go with him or my sister when they take trips to other nations, or to the moon, or to the other planets. If I go to school, I can only go with them during the holidays.”

Juliana had never met another kid who talked about travelling to other nations or other planets so casually, but she focused on what they did have in common. It seemed that the girl had also never been to school before.

“Oh, well, school’s not so bad, you know,” Juliana told the girl. “I started it for the first time last month too. Reading’s really hard—” Lupé had taught Juliana how to read when she was younger, but the slums of Santonio was not conducive to such an activity, “—but I’m learning a lot of really cool things. Like, did you know that North and South America used to be connected by land? I didn’t even know there was a South America!”

The girl gaped wordlessly at Juliana, her blue eyes wide and curious. When she found her voice, she began delicately, “I… I know. I’m learning with my tutors, but I don’t want to go to school. I want to do things at my own pace.”

“You can do that? Learn with tutors, I mean?” Juliana asked, borrowing the girl’s phrasing. It would be nice to learn at her own pace. It just seemed to Juliana that all her classmates were far ahead of her.

“Yes?” The girl cleared her throat. “I mean, yes.”

“Oh,” Juliana said, feeling like she was missing something. It began to dawn on her that the clothes the girl was wearing looked very expensive. On a hunch, she asked, “Do you live at the compound?”

“Huh?” the girl started, though she quickly added, “Oh, the staff’s compound! Uhm, no. I live here.”

“Like the guest houses?” Juliana almost begged. The guest houses were near the library after all.

The girl’s lips turned at the corners. “No, at the mansion.”

Which meant, Juliana realised, that the girl was a member of the Carvajal family, and that the dad she’d been talking about was León Carvajal himself. Juliana blushed, but before she could really process how embarrassing it was to tell the daughter of an Administrator of the North American Oligarchy that she had not known there was a South America, the girl’s smile broke out.

It was a kind smile. The girl’s gentle gaze told Juliana that she wasn’t being judged for her ignorance.

“You know,” the girl began, “I’m a really good reader. I got almost a hundred percent in my speed reading and reading comprehension tests.”

It was Juliana’s turn to gape at the girl. “Okay?”

“I could teach you!” the girl said excitedly, her previous complaints about school seemingly forgotten. “You said you found reading hard, I could help you get better at it. Only if you want to, of course,” she added quickly.

“I—really?” Juliana asked, not quite believing that the daughter of León Carvajal would want to help her get better at reading.

“Yes, really,” the girl said fervently. “Oh, but I don’t even know your name.” Before Juliana could reply, the girl extended her hand across the table. “I’m Valentina.”

As Juliana took the offered hand, she began to mirror the girl’s wide grin. “Juliana.”

⁂

A friendship was quickly formed.

True to her word, Valentina helped Juliana get better at reading, and even helped her with her lessons. School became easier for Juliana, and Valentina became more amenable to school, as long as she went to the same one as Juliana. Valentina was a year older than Juliana so they would not be in the same class, but at least they would be in the same place.

It spun another argument between Valentina and her father; the school Juliana and the other children of the residential staff went to did not have the prestige befitting a daughter of the Administrator. But Valentina was stubborn and used to getting her way, so Administrator León Carvajal had to compromise. Valentina was allowed to go to the same school as Juliana, as long as she continued to study with her tutors. Valentina was perfectly content with the arrangement.

Outside of school, where Valentina wanted to go, Juliana happily followed. Not that Valentina went where Juliana did not want to go, or could not follow. They spent all their time together, whether it was at the library, the gardens to visit Juliana’s mom, the sports and rec areas around the Progreso, particularly the poolhouse to go swimming, even the mansion itself. The last one took some getting used to for Juliana, but she eventually became comfortable enough to not feel like an intruder in the Carvajal family mansion.

They were inseparable.

One could say that Juliana and Valentina took to each other as a fish takes to the sea, or as a bird takes to the sky, but most birds had gone extinct, and what fish there was left lived in the depths of the ocean, or were cultivated in tanks or artificial bodies of water.

.

The older people had a different metaphor for it: linked by the guts.

One time, Lupé burst out in fond exasperation, “Why do you always have to go with the Administrator’s daughter everywhere? Are your guts linked together?”

Another time, León asked, “Are you really not going with me and Lucía to Venus because Juliana can’t come?” When Valentina answered in the affirmative, he observed in amusement, “You two are linked by the guts.” A few days after that, Juliana was preparing for her first interplanetary trip.

.

Guille, Valentina’s older brother, remarked that they were like the entangled particles of paired Qubes.

Qubes—or Quantumly-Entangled Communication Boxes—always came in pairs. The subatomic particles inside one Qube were quantumly-entangled with the particles of one other Qube. Whatever configuration the particles of one Qube were in, that was always reflected in its paired Qube.

Nothing can travel faster than light. The speed of light itself was a constant, limited, and as a communication medium light was prone to interference.

It meant that, in the past, off-world communication was slow and unreliable. When physicists and engineers unlocked the secrets of quantum entanglement almost a millennium ago, the exchange of messages became instantaneous with paired Qubes.

Nothing can travel faster than light, but there was a way to work around it.

Of course, Qubes were of the most use in interplanetary or interstellar communications. Within a planet’s atmosphere, radio waves and cables were still the more efficient form of communication, if only because they were much cheaper and faster to make.

So Valentina balked at her brother’s analogy. “That makes no sense, Guille,” she told him in no uncertain terms. “Entangled particles—paired Qubes—are useful when they are very far apart from each other, like light years apart. I don’t want to be light years apart from Juliana.”

They were at the mansion’s kitchen, watching Chivis, one the family’s personal servants, prepare an afternoon snack for Valentina and Juliana when Guille joined them and made his observation.

Glancing at her best friend, Valentina caught Juliana’s shy smile at her declaration. Valentina couldn’t help but mirror her smile. They’d known each other for a little over a year by then; Valentina understood the irrefutable truth of her statement. She did not want to be apart from Juliana. In fact, she wanted to be as close to her as possible, often longing to brush Juliana’s hair, to rub her cheeks against Juliana’s cheeks. With the kitchen counter between them, Valentina settled for grabbing Juliana’s hand. Juliana met her gaze; Valentina’s smile widened.

Guille waved a hand at the two of them, as if to demonstrate his point, but Valentina and Juliana were still gazing at each other and Chivis ignored him. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat to get their attention, “if you two lived light years apart, you two would still be—” he linked his hands through interlaced fingers, “—entangled.”

Juliana felt her face heat up, pleased and flattered. She thought it was nice, to hear Valentina’s brother make such remarks about their closeness.

Valentina thought differently. “Don’t even joke about that,” she said, slapping her brother’s arm, not appreciating the idea of living far away from Juliana.

Guille laughed as he moved away from Valentina, pretending to be hurt. Valentina laughed at his reaction. Juliana laughed at Valentina’s laughter, the way her eyes crinkled and her cheeks dimpled.

Chivis, much older and with much more experience of life, did not laugh at their banter.

⁂

Nothing can travel faster than light. The speed of light itself was a constant, a hard physical limit of the universe: 299,792.5 kilometres per second. In one Earth Year, light traveled a distance of 9.46 trillion kilometres: 1 light year.

The fastest interstellar ships were powered by warp drives, first built by physicists and engineers from over half a millennium ago. The warp ships were named after a fictional technology from millennia-old stories, but whereas the warp ships from the stories could overtake the speed of light by ever-increasing magnitudes, the real warp ships could not. Warp ships could travel nearly as fast as light, but not as fast as, and never faster.

Apart from an obscure reference to old fictional stories, warp ships were so called because of how it warped time for the ship’s passengers. At or near the speed of light, time dilated. To anyone and anything within a warp ship, trips take only a few hours, even a few minutes. To everyone and everything outside it, a ship that traveled a distance of a hundred light years would have taken a hundred Earth Years to get from its origin to its destination.

At the advent of warp ships, a group of astronauts travelled to Proxima Centauri—4 light years from Earth—then after a week at the system returned to Earth for a total distance travelled of 8 light years. To the astronauts, the round trip had taken a few minutes each way; to everyone outside the ship, the trip had taken over 8 years. One of the astronauts had been a mother. When she’d come back, her daughter—left on Earth—had aged 8 years in the absence that to the mother felt much less than that.

Because of the time dilation—the warp—it was impossible to interact with anyone and anything within a ship while it was traveling nearly as fast as light. Not even through Qubes, which were invented a couple of centuries before the warp ships. Even entangled particles could not sync when a second for one meant a lifetime for the other.

To travel in a warp ship at a distance of light years—5, 10, 100—meant to jump in time 5, 10, or 100 years to the future, putting not just space but also time between yourself and your loved ones.

Chivis, older and wiser, knew this. Interstellar travel was a special kind of heartbreak, it was no laughing matter.

.

Almost a year after that joking banter between the siblings, Valentina and Guille began to understand that heartbreak.

After warp ships were perfected, humanity began the Hundred Year Exodus. For a hundred years—and more—warp ships carrying thousands of people set off for far flung planets, hoping for a cleaner world, for better societies. Now, centuries later, the human diaspora was spread out over 500 light years from Earth in different directions, linked only by the paired Qubes the emigrants brought with them. But to travel to those colonies, hundreds of light years away, meant leaving the Earth as one knew it for good.

Chivis, who was retiring, had announced just that: she was going away to a colonised planet more than 200 light years’ distance from Earth.

.

“By the time she gets there, I’d be dead,” Valentina said lowly to Juliana.

They were lying side by side on Valentina’s bed, on the evening after Chivis’ departure. Valentina and Juliana often had sleepovers at the Carvajal family mansion. Usually they would be giggling over some vid or book or something that happened during the day, but when Juliana joined Valentina that evening, the latter had been crying into her pillows for most of the afternoon.

Valentina continued talking. “I know that she chose that planet because her children decided to move there, but she is—was—is,” Valentina huffed, even the tenses got confusing, “she’s like family to me too.” Valentina knew that she could not have hoped to compare against Chivis’ children and grandchildren when the woman had still been weighing her decision, but it had still hurt when Chivis had told her that she was leaving. “I’m going to miss her. I already miss her.”

“Val,” Juliana said gently, taking her best friend’s hand in hers and interlocking their fingers, “she’s going to miss you too. And it wasn’t an easy decision for her to make. She said so, right?”

“Yeah,” Valentina agreed in a whisper.

“She loved—she loves you Val, that doesn’t change.”

“It still sucks.”

“I know,” Juliana said gently, squeezing Valentina’s hand.

Valentina squeezed back before moving sideways and closing the distance between them so that her head was against Juliana’s shoulder, her hand wrapped around Juliana’s arms, her leg draped over Juliana’s legs.

“It helps that you’re here,” Valentina said. Suddenly overtaken with a certain fear, she gripped Juliana’s arm tightly, but it went away just as quickly and she loosened her hold. “I’m glad you’re here.”

⁂

That was not Valentina’s first experience with loss.

She had only been eight years old when her mother had passed away, and Valentina’s longing for her never quite went out.

“I still look around for her sometimes,” she’d once confessed to Juliana in a whisper, a few months after they’d met.

Even then, Valentina had found it easy to talk to Juliana about anything. She’d been the only person Valentina could really talk to about how it had felt to lose her mother at such a young age. It was the way Juliana had listened to her every word, and had seemed to understand exactly what Valentina had meant.

Valentina had tried to return the favour, tried to ask Juliana about her father, but Juliana had always clammed up when the subject was brought up.

.

It wasn’t until the day Juliana turned thirteen that she opened up about her father. He had not come to celebrate with her and Lupé, but he’d sent her some presents.

“I’m not really cut up that he didn’t come,” Juliana told Valentina matter-of-factly after her party, where she’d invited a few of her classmates. “I’m used to it,” she added with a shrug.

Macario Valdés had rarely ever been around back in Santonio; he had never come to visit once Lupé and Juliana moved to the Progreso.

“It was probably for the best anyway. He would have scared everyone off.”

He was a harsh man, not given to gentleness or affection.

“I’m surprised he even gave me anything.”

He was cold and distant.

“But maybe these actually came from Lupé, and she only pretended that it was from him.”

There was no doubt in Juliana’s mind that Lupé loved him dearly, that Lupé thought he was the most amazing man in the entire world. She could see it from the way Lupé talked about him, from the way Lupé preened on the rare occasion that he called.

To Juliana, he was just her mother’s absent husband. At least that was what she told herself.

Valentina did not understand how anyone could ever choose to be absent from Juliana’s life, but she did not say that out loud. Instead, she asked, “What did he get you?”

“Some books?” Juliana said doubtfully. Lupé had said that she’d downloaded them onto Juliana’s personal tablet, but Juliana hadn’t looked at it yet. “Which, I don’t know why, because there’s a library here.” She did not know what her father could have sent her that was not available in the Progreso’s huge library. “But I guess that means they really were from him.” Lupé would not have gotten her books.

Juliana huffed, waving away thoughts of absent fathers and thoughtless gifts. She looked at Valentina. “Thank you for your presents, by the way. Me encantan mucho.”

She’d already thanked her, but she felt like she could not express her gratitude enough. Valentina had gotten her a painting set, an actual physical painting set, with paper sketchbooks, a few canvases, and pencils and brushes and water colours. Juliana had done normal art—digital art—from the time she’d gotten her first tablet, but she’d always wanted to do art on paper and canvases.

“Of course,” Valentina said, “anything for you, Juls.”

Juliana smiled shyly, meeting Valentina’s eyes until, feeling overwhelmed by the depths of emotion in them, she gazed down at their joined hands and burrowed closer to Valentina, who tightened her hold around Juliana.

They were in Juliana’s bed, about to turn in for the night. Juliana’s other guests had left after the birthday party but Valentina had stayed for the rare sleepover at the Valdéses’ apartment. Juliana’s single bed was much smaller than Valentina’s so it was a tight squeeze, but Juliana didn’t mind. In fact, she liked it a lot.

Juliana liked being pressed close to Valentina. She liked holding Valentina’s hand. She liked it when Valentina hugged her tightly; she would always hug back and never want to let go. She liked it when Valentina kissed her cheeks; that was a new thing that Valentina did, and Juliana could not get enough of it. She liked it when Valentina would watch her for long moments, those pretty blue eyes seemingly glued on Juliana, even though it made her a little shy. And she liked gazing at Valentina in turn, never wanting to take her eyes off of her, because Valentina was the most beautiful person Juliana had ever seen, and she had the prettiest smile that made Juliana’s insides seem to fly.

.

.

.

This premise/idea is actually not a new one. I’ve been mulling it over in my head for years, but I’ve never been interested in putting one of my ships in this setting until Juliantina--not in writing or even in stories that are just in my head.

I’ve also wanted to write a certain kind of fic, a certain mood of fic, for Juliantina, but nothing seemed to fit their personalities--well, Val’s personality. I think this premise would achieve that mood without making them OOC. (I don’t know if I’m making any sense lol.)

Oh, and if you’ve reached this far, I wonder if you could guess where this story would be headed? 😊 

.

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.

[redvelvetreel]

Red Velvet Reel 11.2: Amorfino

Pairing: [Married] Spicyhoney (Underfell Papyrus x Underswap Papyrus)

Summary: Edge explains the PregHUD to Stretch, complete with a demonstration of it’s most annoying, well-meaning feature.

Characters: Stretch (Underswap Papyrus) & Edge (Underfell Papyrus)

Contains: Mpreg/Skelepreg!  Mood swings! Lots of pseudo-magic-science fudging and videogame logistics! So many headcanons!

Rating: Teen and up! (I guess?)

Note: This is the PregHUD, the default menu of all Souling related things, from Edge’s perspective! C: Stretch’s HUD is a little different, hehe!

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What was this thing?!

This display was unlike anything he had ever seen before! For whatever reason, this one didn’t need to be locked on any one particular target to be used- it was just sort of this pop-up in front of Edge. Kinda like a stat menu, although Stretch didn’t think other people could usually see those. He could see Edge’s, sometimes, but that was only because their souls were literally linked. Was this the same thing or not?

Stretch carefully picked his husband up, depositing him on his feet in the middle of the room. This was way too exciting to sit down for! Edge could be cute later.

“This is so cool!” He made a circuit around his nonplussed husband, looking at the menu from all angles, “Why can I see it? Can anyone else see it?”

“Of course not!” Edge looked almost scandalized, “No one else is ever going to see this!”

“Yeah, okay,” Stretch nodded agreeably, squatting down so he was eye level with the Souling. That was a minor curiosity, he wasn’t willing to push for it.

Even through the thick fabric of Edge’s sweater, he could clearly see the bright, white glow. He lifted up the hem of his husband’s top, noting the Souling’s glow was the same underneath the fabric, too.

“Huh.” He let his hands drop as Edge batted them away, “I wonder why they’re glowing through the clothes-“ Oh! Duh! It was locked onto Pancake! He shot up so quickly Edge startled and nearly clocked him in the face, “HUDs are closest to a BATTLE setting, so it makes sense their soul would react the same way! Souls don’t typically glow in battle, but then again, we tend to have a physical form when we engage in battles! It all makes so much sense.”

Stretch rested his chin on Edge’s shoulder as he pulled his husband into a backwards hug, patting the ectomagic with a smile, “You’re a bright kid, huh? Taken a real shining to-“

“Enough!” Edge pushed him away by his face with an irritated huff, “Do you want to know how this thing works or not?!”

“Yes please! .... light of my life.” Stretch pressed a kiss to the side of his husband’s head, looking at the screen obediently... as he rested his chin on Edge’s shoulder, again. And pulled Pancake into another hug. “I’m listening. How do you use it?”

Rolling his eyes almost audibly, Edge pointed to the screen, “This is the main screen.”

It was like a mixture of an HUD with phone technology in an intangible, manipulatable rectangle. There was a big bar in the middle and over a quarter of it was filled in white. On one end was a picture of an upside down heart, and on the other was a percentage. It wasn’t labeled, but... that was obviously Pancake’s load bar.

“That’s Pancake’s-“

“Uh, why are our names in these tabs?” Seemed kind of silly to attach that information to the load bar. As though they, or the Souling, needed any reminders.

“They’re shortcuts to Pancake,” Edge literally waved his question off, “But the squares around it are more important!”

A shortcut to Pancake (whatever that meant) seemed plenty important, but what did he know? Around the load bar we’re a variety of boxes with small icons in them, some of which were gray and appeared locked.

“So, this first one is a general notes program-“

“Wait, so you click them and you can access different... programs?” He felt Edge nod, even as Stretch poked at a locked square. “And these are ones we can only access once were in the right quarter?”

“Yes, but you would know that if you stopped interrupting me!” Edge punctuated his annoyance by suddenly jostling his shoulder, which ow, point taken. Stretch rubbed at his chin quietly.

“So, that’s Notes, to remember everything important: dates, milestones, gifts, events, etc. That’s Information, which has manuals and explanations about monster pregnancy, including symptoms for non-pregnant partners.” Stretch pointedly avoided that look sent his way. “This is Family Health, which is like a CHECK for all of us and some extra information too. And that last one is Souling Theme.”

Edge pointed at each little square in turn, pausing on the first square at the bottom. It featured a little white heart surrounded by slices of all the base magic colors in a cool little heptagon. All the icons to the right of it were still locked gray. What was up with that? “And I don’t know what this one is. It unlocked itself recently, but it’s weird. It might be like a minigame? Oh, and I don’t understand the Souling Theme either. It just has a list of everyone we know. You can write things next to their names, but I don’t know why.”

“Oh, that’s probably for the Baby Band.” Stretch  waved his hand, “That’s not until the last quarter, though, so we don’t need to worry about until later. Let’s ask Undyne about the heptagon though.”

“What? Baby band? Heptagon?” Edge looked confused and a little concerned, which was not good and the opposite of what he had been trying to do. That was supposed to be reassuring! Time for a topic change.

“This all seems unusually straightforward...” Stretch squinted at it, as though that made things any clearer. Monsters loved puzzles and complicating their lives. “You just click and it opens up the tools? What’s the catch? Aren’t there any puzzles anywhere?”

“Yes! These!” Edge started swearing something unintelligible, angrily jabbing at the first square. “Goals!”

Stretch rubbed his husband’s shoulders soothingly, watching a new, much more colorful screen pop up. It looked like a bunch of paper, with a nearby pencil poised and ready to write. Before he finished taking in the rest of it, some kind of mascot danced onto the middle of the screen.

“Hey, it’s the egg! Right? The one from the Dating HUD?” Stretch hadn’t even realized it had been missing! Weird, since he had started checking it daily while he waited for his husband to wake up from his little naps. “It got legs! And a little hat!”

“Yes, and it changes what kind of legs it has every! Time!” Edge glared at it for a few more seconds, before reluctantly tapping on it. A little dialogue box popped up below it.

「HELLO, PAPYRUS “EDGE”!」

“I am not your friend!” Edge snarled, tapping at it again, more aggressively than before, “I don’t owe you any explanations!”

「ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR DAILY CHALLENGE?」

“No!” Edge tapped on it again anyway, moving restlessly as the egg danced into a corner, starting to pull something out of its hat. “Don’t laugh- it’s not funny!”

Stretch angled his face so his smile was pressed against Edge’s shoulder instead, trying very hard not to laugh. His husband seemed to be having a difficult time not smiling himself.

「HERE’S YOUR PUZZLE!」

It was a word scramble, a lot like the Minor Mixup Stretch used to do as a kid.

「 RNDKI smeo LIKM!」

Edge made a sound between a groan and a growl, counting out the letters before starting to type his answer into the space below.

「QMCJH rldn KHJL?」

Huh? Stretch frowned as the egg started dancing sadly in the corner. Stretch felt sorry for it when if finally fell down. (And a little irritated at it for making Edge so obviously annoyed, of course.)

「TRY AGAIN!」

“I hate these,” Edge seethed, crossing his arms as he glared at the screen, “There’s never a pattern! How are you supposed to solve this without a pattern?! At least a hint!”

“That’s...” What was the best way of phrasing this? “I think it might be a word scramble, Babe.” Stretch pointed to the first string of letters, “Have you tried plugging the letters they gave you in a different order to make new words?”

“Like león- I mean, lion... kim- skim...?” Edge looked adorably confused, “There aren’t enough vowels!”

“How about word by word, then?” Stretch put his hand over the last two words, gently nudging his husband’s shoulder, “What word does「 RNDKI」look like?”

“I don’t know-“ Edge sighed impatiently, “Kindr, dinkr- oh!” He positively lit up as he tapped the right order into the keyboard, “Drink? Is it drink?”

“Yeah!” Stretch cheered, clapping his husband on the back, “Good job! The next should be a little easier-”

“How dare you make fun of me?!” Edge elbowed him in the chest, and Stretch staggered back with a gasp. That was gratitude for you. “The stupid egg never said it was a word scramble! It just said it was a puzzle- and word scrambles are difficult! I don’t care what Red says, crosswords are a lot easier than this thing- and you’re wrong if you think that too!”

“I never said anything about it not being hard or anything,” Stretch rubbed at his chest ruefully, but completely ignoring rational self-preservation, went back to leaning on Edge’s shoulder. “Just that I think the solution might be more apparent if you look at it like a word-by-word scramble. I didn’t mean to imply anything- I think crosswords and word scrambles use different skills and understanding, and can be very difficult in different ways.”

“Hm.” Edge looked at him suspiciously over his shoulder, before turning back to the screen with a frown. He grabbed his husband’s hand, repositioning the fingers over the final word, “So you think the next word is... some?”

“Try plugging it in.” Shrugging, he watched Edge type it in and get the font to change color.

“Hm...” Edge still looked far from convinced, but typed ‘milk’ into the last space anyway.

「 DRINK some MILK!」

[ambssssssssss]

The Time We Lost

sequel to The Time We Have

Part 2 of Found

Word Count: 13900

Read here

They call off the search on a Thursday.

They’ve been looking for four months.

They don’t have any leads.

They suspect foul play.

They call off the search on a Thursday. It’s raining when Juliana gets the call. She thinks that’s appropriate. She doesn’t enjoy the sunlight anymore anyway. Lucía is the one who calls her.

“They’ve called off the search.” Juliana can hear the heart break in Lucía’s voice. It reflects her own. “At this point, it’s unlikely they survived.”

“When?” It’s all Juliana can bring herself to ask. She doesn’t have to say anything else.

“Saturday.” Lucía doesn’t explain further. There’s no need. “I’ll send a car for you.” Juliana thinks about protesting but doesn’t. She knows she won’t be fit to drive that day.

The call ends and Juliana sets her phone down on the coffee table. She’s alone, just like she has been for the past four months. The apartment is scarcely furnished, cold. It’s funny, Juliana thinks, that this is the one place she and Valentina had never been in together, yet it is the place she feels Valentina’s absence the most acutely.

It was supposed to be their first home together, a gift from Valentina’s father and step-mother. It was supposed to be a surprise for Valentina, one that would have been ready and waiting for her to come her. Juliana was supposed to get the place all set up for them, furnished and painted while Valentina was away. Valentina’s flight would have gotten in late and Juliana would have been waiting for her at the airport. She would have driven them here when Valentina asked to go home. She would have seen Valentina’s face light up as she realized what the place was supposed to be. The beginning of a new chapter. The start of forever.

Valentina never came home, still hasn’t come home.

Her ghost lingers in the apartment, anyway, fueled by memories that seem like they came from a lifetime ago. Memories of conversations and what-ifs that were supposed to be some days instead of not evers.

Valentina is in the kitchen, sitting on the counter and idly flipping through Juliana’s sketchbook. Juliana cooks breakfast for them, stealing kisses when she lifts a bite of food up for Valentina to taste test.

She’s in the office, typing away on her laptop and softly singing along to whatever song is playing on her phone.

She’s in the bedroom, dancing in her underwear without a care in the world while Juliana leans against the door, completely enthralled.

She’s on the couch in the living room waiting for Juliana to come home so they can wrap up together in the blanket León had given her for her 18th birthday and watch a movie.

She’s there when Juliana crawls into bed at night, a soft smile on her lips and a warm embrace, waiting for Juliana to settle against her chest and hold her tight. She kisses Juliana softly, filling her with love right down to her soul.

Then, Juliana blinks.

The warmth fades and she’s alone in the apartment she should be sharing with the love of her life.

~

She skips class on Friday. She gives herself one more day to chase the warmth her dreams bring. One more day to hope that she’s only having a nightmare and she’ll wake up with Valentina safe and sound beside her in their bed.

It doesn’t work.

She wakes up alone.

~

Juliana doesn’t cry during the funeral service. She can’t. Crying will make it real. Crying will mean admitting defeat. Crying will mean saying goodbye and Juliana’s not ready for that yet. She can’t, won’t accept that Valentina isn’t coming back to her.

She stands with the remaining members of the Carvajal family. Eva holds her hand. Guille grips her shoulder. Lucía catches her eye. Lucía doesn’t smile at her, Juliana knows she can’t. Juliana’s not the only person who lost the love of her life.

The service feels to short and too long in the same instance. Too long to be a goodbye to the person who changed her life so much. Too short to be anything else. They lower empty coffins into the ground. She, Eva, Guille, and Lucía each throw a handful of dirt on each. Juliana feels like she doesn’t deserve to play such a role for León. She’s not family. But Lucía nods at her so she follows suit.

Her hand trembles as she throws her handful of wet dirt into the grave marked for Valentina.

The Carvajal’s don’t linger in the graveyard for long. Juliana remains there alone as the graves are filled with dirt. The sky is darkening above her, the rain that’s been threatening to fall all day inching closer and closer to breaking. Juliana sinks to her knees in front of Valentina’s headstone, tracing the letters of her name with a trembling finger.

“She loved with all her heart.” The stone reads. Juliana swallows thickly.

She grips the silver charm dangling from the chain that hangs from her neck. The charm is in the shape of a ‘v.’ It’s the last gift she had gotten from Valentina, months before she disappeared. Juliana has yet to take it off. It was meant as a companion to the ‘j’ shaped charm Valentina wears around her own neck.

Wore.

“You promised me forever, Valentina.” Juliana can’t tell if she’s whispering or not. It feels like she’s shouting but her lips barely move. It’ doesn’t matter. “We’re supposed to grow old together.”

“They keep telling me I should let you go,” Juliana feels a single tear slip down her face. “It’s been too long. You aren’t going to come back.” She pauses, as if she’s waiting for a response. It never comes. “They don’t understand. Lucía might, but not anyone else.”

Juliana takes a deep shuddering breath.

“You can’t be gone, Val, you just can’t be,” A raindrop lands on her hand. Juliana ignores it. “I’m not strong enough, Val. I can’t do this without you.” Just as the bottom drops out from the clouds above her, the dam inside Juliana breaks and a choked sob escapes her lips. “Te amo, Val, I love you more than anything.” Her fingers curl around the edge of the tombstone, she swears the ‘v’ still in her other hand burns her palm.

“I’m not giving up on you Valentina. We’ll see each other again. I know we will.” We have too. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, if this is really goodbye.” Juliana shakes her head, standing slowly. Her dress is drenched, she’s shivering but she doesn’t care about either of those things.

“This isn’t the end of us, Valentina.” Juliana wipes at her eyes, kisses her fingertips and places them against Valentina’s name. “Wherever you are, I need you fight. You’re so strong, Vale, you can handle anything. Don’t give up and I won’t either.” Juliana starts to walk away, stopping at the edge of Valentina’s grave and looking down at the wet dirt.

“I will find you, Valentina. I promise, I’ll never stop searching for you.” A rumble of thunder echoes her statement. Juliana walks away from the grave marking the end of her love’s life. If everyone else can accept that she’s gone, fine. Juliana can work on her own. She made a promise, and she never breaks her promises.

She’s not surprised to see Guille waiting for her at the gate to the graveyard, standing underneath a black umbrella that he extends to her when she approaches. They walk to his car in silence and he holds the umbrella over while she climbs in on the passenger side before walking around the car to slide in himself.

“You’re not letting go, are you?” He hasn’t started the car yet. His eyes are focused on the gate to the graveyard.

“No,” Juliana says after a beat. “I can’t. She’s still out there, Guille. I know she is.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s going to come back.” He looks over at her, a cold fire in his eyes. They're different from Valentina’s eyes in color but just like her,  he can’t hide anything in them. Juliana sees his heartbreak, his desire for everything to just go back to the way it was. He’s trying not to give up hope. “Or she will and then we’ll have to do this again. For real.”

“I have to know, Guille.” Juliana closes her eyes. Her hand clutches her necklace. “If she’s really gone or if she’s somewhere out there, fighting for her life. I have to know.”

“I know.” Guille’s shoulders drop. “It’s Valentina.” He sighs, Juliana sees him reach up to wipe a tear off his cheek. “We might not find anything. You’re just opening yourself up to more pain.”

“I have to try,” Juliana’s voice is stronger than she feels. “Maybe it won’t help the pain, but I can’t move on until I know for sure. It’s Valentina. She’s…”

“Your everything.” Guille finishes her thought. “I know.” There’s the ghost of a smile on his lips. “It’s been four months, we might not find anything.”

“If there’s something to be found, we will.”

“You have school.”

“I’ll dropout.” Juliana shook her head sadly. “You’re not going to convince me to not try, Guille.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Guille placed the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it yet. “I just, I want you to really think about what you want to do.”

“I want to find her. I don’t need to think about it.”

“Okay,” Guille started the car, finally, and began to pull away from the curb. “But you can’t do it alone. You need connections for something like this. They won’t give information to just anyone, not the specifics that you need.”

“Thanks for the encouragement.” Juliana bites at her lips after she says the words. She doesn’t mean to say them so harshly but it’s hard not to snap at anyone and everyone these days. “Sorry.” Guille waves off her apology. “So you don’t think I can do this?”

“You can do anything, Juliana.” He says it in the same way that Valentina had, so many times before. The same conviction, the same certainty. Even the love in his eyes, brotherly instead of romantic but still there. “But we need to be smart about this.”

“You keep saying ‘we.’” Juliana raises an eyebrow at him. It’s the most expressive her face has been in weeks.

“You’re not doing this alone.” Guille turns into the apartment parking lot. “I’ve already lost one sister and I can’t be sure we’ll get her back.” He cuts the engine and turns in his seat look directly at Juliana. “I won’t lose another.”

He pulls her into a hug, one that’s awkward and pulls Juliana up against the arm rest between them uncomfortably but she hugs him back anyway. It’s the first time she’s allowed herself to relax in someone’s embrace since the day she watched Valentina walk out of the Carvajal mansion. There’s still tension in her back and shoulders, knots that can’t be undone under Guille’s too large hands. Still, hugging him helps. She doesn’t feel as alone anymore. She knows that if there’s one person in the world who loves Valentina as much as she does, it’s her brother. The connection between them runs deep and Juliana knows Guille is just as desperate get his sister back as she is.

“Well, then you’d be stuck with just Eva,” she tries to joke when he let’s her go. “I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “Listen, we can’t just rush into this. It’s gonna take time. We won’t get all the answers we need right away.” He looks up at the apartment building. “Take tonight. Make sure this is really what you want to do and then call me.”

“Thank you, Guille.” Juliana opens her door. “For everything.”

“Of course, hermanita.” He shoos her out of the car. “Get some rest.”

Guille waits until he sees Juliana enter the building before driving away, his mind already working a thousand miles a minute. He knows what Juliana���s answer is going to be but he needs the time for himself. He’s not ready to say goodbye to his sister. He’s not willing to give up on her, but he knows looking for more answers might only leave them with more questions. He needs to prepare himself for more heartbreak and he hopes Juliana does the same.

Juliana spends a long time in the shower when she gets home, washing the stress of the day away as much as she can. She dries herself off and dresses in one of Valentina’s hoodies and a pair of shorts before leaving the bathroom. She doesn’t head for the bed immediately, instead turing to exit the room and heading back to the living room. Her steps are slow as she approaches the bookshelf in the back corner. She squats down, reaching for the three black binders on the bottom shelf.

She carries them over to the couch, setting them down on the coffee table. They're all labeled with the words ‘Our Story’ in glittery gold lettering and numbered from one to three. She picks up the first one, resting it on her knees and taking a deep breath before pulling the cover open.

She's greeted by the image of a 15 year old Valentina smiling up at her. It's one of the first pictures they ever took together, taken by a kind older man who was more than happy to stop his walk with his dog to take their photograph. They're standing under Valentina's favorite tree in the park, holding each other loose enough to be only friends but with an intimacy that stands out even more than three years later. The picture was taken right at the moment Juliana had thrown her head back in laughter after Val made some joke that had been long forgotten. Valentina had looked directly at the camera as Juliana laughed and the image was immortalized. Juliana traces her finger over the image of Valentina's face for a moment before turning the page.

She isn't sure how long she stays awake, looking through the photo albums. It's the first time she's looked at them since she picked them up from the Carvajal mansion. She hasn't been able to even look at the bookshelf without feeling the sadness in her heart was going to swallow her. She pauses on certain pictures, looking over the one Guille had taken of them the day before they officially started dating. Valentina has Juliana pulled tight against her chest, her eyes closed and head resting against Juliana's. Juliana has her face tucked against Val's neck, hiding the bruise that her father had given her the day before. It's the first time Juliana realized Valentina was her safe place, the first time she allowed herself to be completely at home in Valentina's arms. Once she gave in, that feeling never went away.

The scrapbooks don't comfort her, not that she was expecting them too anyway. It helps her get lost in her memories, lost in the phantom feeling of Valentina's hand in hers, their bodies close together, lips a breath apart. She doesn’t need the reminder of what she’s lost, what she might never get back. She can’t ever forget that. Every second she goes without seeing Valentina is a harsh reminder of her current reality. The scrapbooks don’t comfort her, they give her a goal. The last scrapbook ends abruptly, only half of the book filled. It won’t stay like that. Juliana won’t let it. She and Valentina still have years and years worth of scrapbooks to fill together.

~

She dreams of Valentina, like she has so often since the day they met in the park. She used to dream about what their future would look like, the cars they’d drive and the careers they’d have. They house they would live in, and sometimes even what their wedding would look like. Her dreams were bright, as bright of the future they were supposed to share. They’ve changed since Val disappeared, dimming, no longer of the future but of the past. It was like looking at an old photograph that had faded with time, blurry but clear enough that you can still make out the picture.

“Val, we should head inside. You’re freezing.” Juliana whispered against Valentina’s hair, her breath coming out as a white puff above her lips. Valentina snuggled closer to her, never taking her eyes off the sky.

“In a minute.” She says softly, her mitten covered hand pressing against Juliana’s stomach.

“You said that twenty minutes ago.” Juliana points out, shivering slightly as a cold breeze covers them. She should have known that Valentina’s suggestion to cuddle up in the hammock to watch the sunset would lead to them stargazing well into the evening.

“You can go inside if you want,” Valentina finally looks away from the sky, sitting up slightly so she can look down at her girlfriend. “You don’t have to stay out here with me.”

“I’m not gonna let you freeze your ass of on your own.” Juliana rolls her eyes and rubs her hand down Valentina’s arm. “The stars will still be there tomorrow night, baby. We can always come back out here tomorrow.”

“It’s supposed to storm tomorrow,” Valentina reminds her, “this is the last clear night until next week.”

“So we come back when it’s clear again,” Juliana shrugs. She watches Valentina closely, she’s nibbling on her lower lip and avoiding eye contact with Juliana in that way that means there’s something eating at her but she doesn’t want to bring it up. “What’s wrong, mi amor?”

“Nothing,” Valentina tries to brush of Juliana’s concerns. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re doing that thing with your lip that you do when something’s bothering you.” Juliana explains it as if it’s the most simple thing in the universe.

“I don’t do a thing with my lip.”

“Yes you do,” Juliana sits up slightly and pulls of her glove so she can brush her thumb against Valentina’s bottom lip. “You bite your lip, but it’s different than when you’re being playful. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You really notice all that about me?”

“I notice everything about you,” Juliana slips her hand our Valentina’s neck to rest on the nape, playing with the curls there. “Talk to me, mi amor. What’s bothering you?”

“It’s silly,” Valentina looks away from her girlfriend.

“Tell me anyway,” Juliana closes her eyes as Valentina leans their foreheads together.

“It’s just, I was thinking that this is our third Christmas together, and how nice it is that your mother agree to come spend it here with us.” Valentina’s brushes against Juliana’s as she moves her head slightly. Juliana fights off the urge to lean forward and capture her lips in a kiss. “I just can’t believe that we get to have this already. Our families coming together for the holidays, us being…”

“Us being?” Juliana asks when Valentina remains silent for a moment after trailing off.

“Us being so serious about each other.” Valentina whispers. “So sure that this is what we want, now and forever. I just - what if it’s too soon to think like this? We’re so young, should it feel this way already?”

“I don’t know anything about what it should be Val,” Juliana tells her, stroking the back of her neck softly with the tips of her fingers. “I only know what it is. It shouldn’t matter if it’s supposed to feel this way or not. It does and that’s what’s important.” Juliana opens her eyes to find Valentina looking at her, something swimming in the depths of her eyes. “What’s brought this on?”

“I was thinking about my mom,” Valentina admits softly. “She used to tell me I needed to really live before I would know what love is. That it was something I might not find on the streets of Mexico City. She wanted me to travel and see all the far away places she didn’t get to see when she was a girl.” Valentina’s smile is wistful. “I thought she was right. That I would one day find a home somewhere else and find love there too.”

“What changed?” Juliana pulls their faces apart so she can focus on the conversation and not on battling her increasing need to kiss Valentina.

“I did, the day I met you.” Juliana can’t fight off the blush that builds on her cheeks. “You sat beside me on that park bench and told me a joke so I would stop crying and I knew. I didn’t realize it for a few months but I knew then that my mom was wrong. I didn’t need to find a new home to find love because I found both in you.”

“Val,” Juliana doesn’t know what to say. That’s not uncommon. Valentina has a habit of making her speechless.

“I just wonder what she would say, if she was here, you know.” Valentina sighed. “Would she support this, would she have the same faith in us that the rest of my family does? I wish I could ask her.”

“I wish you could, too, Val.” Juliana slid her other hand up and down Valentina’s arm in a soothing manner. “But I think she would. From what I know about her, she was the kind of person who could see love from a mile away. She loved you, so she’d support anything that made you happy.”

“How do you always know exactly what to say to me?” Valentina huffs a laugh.

“Practice.” Juliana smiles at her. “Is that why you wanted to stay out here so long? To feel closer to her?”

Valentina nods. It’s no secret that her love of stargazing was born from the few vague memories she has of doing just that with her mother before she died. “It helps, a little, thinking about it under the stars. Puts things into perspective.” Valentina’s cloth covered hands rise and cup Juliana’s cheeks. “She would have loved you, almost as much as I do.”

“You think so?” Juliana asks softly.

“I know so,” Valentina smiled. “You said it yourself, she would have supported anything that makes me happy. Being with you makes me happier than anything else in the world.”

“I love you,” Juliana finally pulls Valentina in for a kiss, feeling her whisper the words back against her lips. Their lips are cold when they touch but considerably warmer when they part sometime later, out of breath and faces flushed because of more than just the cold.

“Do you want to go in?” Valentina asks when they pull apart. Juliana shakes her head.

“We can stay out here as long as you need to.” Valentina kisses her again but doesn’t keep them outside for very much longer. They’re both freezing and sleepy so they make their way inside and up to Valentina’s room a few minutes later. They quickly change into sleep clothes and fall into the bed together, cuddling close to warm up. When they wake up it will be Christmas, and they’ll spend it with both of their families together for the first time. The first of many, they know, because the love they share is the kind that lasts forever.

Juliana wakes up with a sad smile on her lips and an ache in her heart. Her decision is made. She has no doubts. She’ll find Valentina.

~

It’s easy to change her major from fashion to investigative journalism. She’s not far enough into her degree for the switch to affect anything but her next classes. Her advisor is supportive of the change, understanding that Juliana didn’t feel the drive to pursue fashion any more, but she also cautioned Juliana against deciding on one thing too soon. She had the time, to explore her options and discover what her passion really was. Juliana wasn’t chasing her passion, not in the way her advisor meant. The investigative journalism program would put Juliana in the position to meet the people she needs too, make the connections that she’ll need to even get close to finding answers. It’s the leg up she’s going to need when she and Guille start digging.

It doesn’t take her long to earn a reputation in the department as a driven, hard-working young women with a clear goal in mind. Her professors praise her efforts, and, once Juliana explains why she started studying investigative journalism, are more than willing to introduce her to people who can help her find the answers she needs. Guille joins her for every meeting, his family name and his own reputation as an up and coming reporter from El Centro helping to solidify the connections they need. Information doesn’t come pouring in, there’s no way it can. Too much of what happened on the plane is shrouded in mystery, to much unknown even to the best investigative journalists in the country for Juliana and Guille to find more than whispers and bread crumbs.

Lupita is the one to caution Juliana against digging to deep.

“You may never find anything, mija,” Lupita tells her whenever the have lunch together. “All of this could be for nothing. You’ve given up your dream.”

“She is my dream, Ma.” Juliana replies, each and every time without fail. “I can’t give up on her, I won’t. Please don’t ask me to.”

“I’m not.” Lupita takes her daughters hand. “I would never ask you to give up on the person you love, Juliana. I just don’t want you to hurt more.” Lupita squeezes her hands as Juliana releases a small, humorless chuckle.

“I can’t hurt more than I do now, Ma,” Juliana explains. “I can learn to live without her, if she’s really gone, I already have.” Lupita nods slightly. Valentina has been gone for nearly a year and Juliana isn’t so shut down anymore. She smiles sometimes, small ones but ones that aren’t forced, even if her eyes don’t light up the same way anymore. “I can’t live with not knowing what happened. She’s missing but she’s not gone. There’s still a chance that she’s gonna come back and that’s what hurts. It’s not definitive. We didn’t bury her, we buried an empty coffin and put her name on it.”

“I know, Juli,” Lupita wipes the tears that fall from Juliana’s eyes away.

“She deserves more than that. She deserve to have a proper goodbye if she’s really gone, and if she’s not then she deserves to come home.” Juliana clears her throat and wipes at her tears. Her heart aches the more she speaks about Valentina being gone. “So, whatever is out there to find, I’m going to find it. No matter what the consequences are.”

That’s the last time Lupita tries to to talk Juliana out of continuing her search. She saw the determination in Juliana’s eyes, the certainty that there was something to be found and she vows to be there for her daughter, no matter what she finds.

~

They don’t tell Eva or Lucía about their ongoing search for the two missing Carvajals. Juliana doesn’t want to give Lucía any unnecessary hope, to hurt her anymore than Juliana knows she already is, and Eva, well, she changed since she lost her father and sister. She’s colder now, not so much to the people she considers family but to the world in general. She takes a job at El Centro even though Juliana knows she doesn’t want a career in journalism. Eva gets back together with Mateo, after running into him at El Centro. Juliana isn’t sure if that’s because Eva truly missed him or because she’s desperate to feel something again. Juliana doesn’t ask.

It’s easy enough to avoid telling Eva and Lucía about Juliana and Guille’s investigation. Juliana avoids going to the Carvajal mansion. She’s only been there twice since the funeral and that was only to get a few clothes that she had left there. She couldn’t take being in Valentina’s room for two long, not without feeling tears burn the back of her eyes. She grabbed one of Valentina’s hoodies the last time she was there, one with her last name emblazoned on the back. Valentina’s perfume lingers on the fabric along with traces of her natural, sunny scent. Juliana could never figure out exactly what Valentina smelled like beneath her floral perfume, but the scent always puts Juliana at ease.

Avoiding Eva and Lucía at El Centro is a little more difficult once Juliana’s professors start putting her in contact with other journalists. She and Guille always meet at El Centro before heading to wherever they are supposed to be, and often run into Eva or Lucía or both when leaving. Juliana usually makes up an excuse about getting lunch or being there for class but she knows neither of the Carvajal women believe her. They let it go, but Juliana knows they won’t stay out of it for long, especially once she starts spending more and more time at El Centro.

Answers come few and far between, just like Guille warned would happen. They’re digging for months before they find even a crumb, thanks to the number of hoops Guille needs to jump through to get his hands on the original crash report. His name can only get him so far, and his career is just beginning. The fact that it’s largely apparent that Juliana is the driving the force behind the investigation, a second year journalism student by the time they find anything, does not help them. If anything, Juliana’s presence in the meetings Guille has with other journalists seems to invalidate their investigation somehow. It’s unfair and Juliana quickly grows tired of older men in ill fitting suits telling her to leave the tough questions to the big boys.

Juliana is the one searching for the love of her life, begging and pleading to a god she isn’t sure she believes in that she’ll find more than a corpse. The so-called big shot reporters don’t give a damn about the people that were lost when that plane went down. They only care about the mystery of what happened, speculating on engine failures and crazy weather patterns knocking the plane out of the sky. It was big story when the plane went down. How could it not be? A plane carrying one of the richest men in the world and his youngest daughter fell out of the sky, without any explanation. Juliana couldn’t even remember all the articles she had read about the subject the days following the accident, when the fist search for Valentina and León began. None of them were accurate, especially after it became known that the authorities suspected some kind of struggle occured on the plane just before it fell.

It takes far too long for Juliana’s tastes, and far too many conversations with people she hopes she never has to work with professionally, for she and Guille to collect any and all reports published about the crash. A few are too embellished to be of any worth, others don't give anymore than the bare minimum of information, most of which Juliana and Guille already know. The rest all say the same thing.

The flight was on track and then lost five minutes after the captain's last check in. Signs of a struggle inside but unclear if the damage to the interior of the plane is from the fall. The scraps are too small, to specific to be created from the fall. Juliana doesn't want to think about what could have caused the damage, but her mind fills in the blanks for her anyway. It was bullet holes that riddled the inside of the plane.

The realization made Juliana feel sick to her stomach. If Val had been hit by a stray bullet, or worse, intentionally hit, her chances of surviving the crash itself drastically decreased. Her chances of still surviving, still trying to come home fell even lower. Juliana bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and swallowed against the bile that rose in her throat. She had to step away for a moment.

Unfortunately, stepping away meant stepping out of Guille's office and into the open floor space of El Centro. The floor was mostly empty, it was late on a Friday night. Almost everyone had gone home for the weekend. Juliana was glad for the privacy and the escape from Guilles knowing gaze. He had put the pieces together too. She leaned against the wall beside Guilles office door, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. She was wearing Val's hoodie despite it being a bit to warm to warrant it and breathed deeply through her nose. Valentina's scent had faded. Juliana felt like crying.

“Juliana,” she opened her eyes as a familiar voice called her name and found Lucía and Guilles new secretary Renata both staring at her with kind, concerned gazes. “Is everything okay?”

“It's fine,” Juliana stands up straight as she answers Lucía's question. The older woman doesn't look convinced and moves to pull Juliana into a hug. Juliana hugs her back.

“What are you doing here so late?” Lucía questions when she steps back. Juliana shrugs and avoids eye contact.

“Guilles helping me with something.” Juliana directs her next words to both of the women standing before her. “What are you guys doing here?”

“I saw Guilles office light and figured you'd both be here,” Renata holds out one of two coffee cups she's holding to Juliana. “I thought you might like a pick me up since you're still working.”

“Thanks, Renata,” Juliana's smile is small but genuine as she accepts the cup of coffee. “I’m sure Guille will appreciate it as well.” There’s a slight blush coloring Renata’s cheeks as she moves past Juliana to get into Guille’s office.

“I give it another month before they get together.” Lucía says as the office door closes again.

“Two months,” Juliana replies, “he’ll never make the first move. It’s all up to Renata.” Lucía chuckles and nods in agreement.

“Are you okay?” She questions again, knowing that Juliana is more likely to give her an honest answer now that it’s just the two of them.

“It’s been a hard day,” Juliana fiddles with the lid on her cup of coffee. “She’s turning twenty on Sunday. I know it’s silly, I know she’s not going to suddenly turn up but I still feel like I should have a gift ready.”

“It’s not silly, Juliana,” Lucía touches her arm reassuringly. She doesn’t comment on Juliana using the present tense. Valentina will be twenty, not should have been. Juliana nods in acknowledgment of Lucía’s words but otherwise remains silent. “Class going well?”

“They are,” Juliana nods again, “my professors say I have a way with words.”

“You do, even if you don’t say as much.” Lucía knows Juliana isn’t much for talking, not anymore. She fell back into her old habits of suffering in silence for the most part, without Valentina there to bring her out of the shell. Lucía tried to make sure Juliana knew she wasn’t alone, Guille did too, but they all knew Valentina was unreplaceable. “I’ll let you get back to work, don’t stay here too late.”

“You either,” Juliana hugs Lucía before going back into Guille’s office. Renata exits a moment later and says a kind goodbye to Lucía before leaving the office for the night.

Lucía makes her way further down the hall, stopping before a familiar door. She stares at the name printed on the placard beside the door for a long moment before she gathers up the courage to open the door. León’s office is dark, empty. It holds the same absence of warmth that the mansion does. Lucía didn’t realize how much warmth León embodied until she felt the chill of losing him. He and Valentina were so similar, in that respect and so many more, they exuded pure and unadulterated warmth to everyone they met.  

It’s only the second time Lucía has been in León’s office since the funeral a year ago.

She isn’t sure what made her come into the office this time, there’s nothing in there that she needs. Very little remains in the office, most of León’s personal items having been removed some time ago. The desk is empty, dusty. Lucía runs her fingertips over the surface as she rounds the desk. The chair is stiff from disuse when Lucía sits down. Her eyes fall closed and she leans back in the chair.

Memories dance behind her eyelids, the years she spent happier than she thought possible playing through her mind. Her first years with León are hazy, some of the memories faded with time while others stand out as blazing infernos of emotion. Her first kiss with León, the day she met León’s family, when León first told her he loved her, the day she moved into the Carvajal mansion, so many other moments stand out. Moments that León and his family taught Lucía what it meant to belong somewhere, to be loved by people instead of used by them. Lucía’s eyes fill with tears as her memories turn to her wedding day.

A warm summer breeze flows over the dance floor, light scatterings of conversations and the low hum of music filling the air. Twinkling fairy lights glow as the bride and groom twirl in slow circles around the dance floor. Lucía rests her head against her new husband’s shoulder, a soft smile on her lips as she watches her new family dance around them. Eva and Guille dance together a few feet away from them, thankfully Eva isn’t glaring at Lucía anymore. Now, her glare is aimed at her sister’s date. Valentina and Juliana are standing at the edge of the dance floor, swaying more than dancing.

“Are you happy, mi amor?” León whispers in Lucía’s ear, kissing her hair softly. Lucía nods against his shoulder.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy.” Lucía answers, leaning up to kiss her husband. Applause breaks out around them and they pull apart slowly. Lucía glances over and Valentina catches her eye. Her youngest step-daughter smiles, the same loving glint in her eyes that has been there since the day they met shining brightly.

It’s the most beautiful start to a life Lucía never thought would be hers.

Tears fall from her eyes as Lucía opens them, turning the chair so she faces the back wall. She’s hiding, no wanting anyone to see her tears even though the office is practically abandoned and she knows no one would come into León’s office anyway. She has let anyone see her cry since the funeral.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, how long it takes for the tears to stop falling. When she rises from León’s chair (even after nearly two years, she thinks of everything that he owned as his still) and leans against the bookcase along the back wall, her foot bumps into a protruding box. Lucía frowns as she looks down at the black box. There wasn’t supposed to be anything in the office.

Kneeling in her heels and resting one hand against the shelf to help her remain balanced, Lucía realizes that it is not a box she has found, but a safe. She can’t believe she forgot about it. León had showed her the safe before, assured her that it couldn’t be taken from the room. An identical safe had been installed in Lucía’s office. She didn’t know what was inside, she trusted León enough to tell her if it was something important. However, León did make sure she knew the combination.

Taking a deep breath and stealing her nerves, Lucía slowly entered to combination to the safe and pulled the door open. She’s not sure what she’s expecting to find, she’s not sure she’s expecting to find anything at all. Nevertheless, the open door reveals a large stack of papers bundled together. Lucía pulls them out, standing and returning to León’s desk with them in her hands. Her eyes widen as she scans over the first few documents in the stack. Her heartbeat quickens, her palms suddenly sweating and she looks away. She can’t believe it. She doesn’t know what to do with the information she now has.

Lucía takes the stack of papers to her office and places them in her own safe. She tries to calm down, tries to put the information she found to the back of her mind. She thinks of León’s gentle embrace, of Valentina’s smile, of family dinners that were once filled with laughter and love.

It helps, at least for long enough for Lucía to leave the office.

~

“Juliana,” Lucía offers Juliana a small smile as she meets her in the hall, “here for class work?” She glances over the bag on Juliana’s shoulder, the stack of papers in her arms. Lucía is almost surprised to see her in the office during normal business hours, but Juliana isn’t the only journalism student in the office that day, El Centro offers many mentors to the students, but she is by far the most well-known. Some of the reporters remember her from the one time she and Valentina were in the office together to meet with León, most know her as Guille’s friend and aspiring reporter herself and as both Lucía’s and Eva’s favorite student to have in the office.

“Sort of,” Juliana avoids looking Lucía in the eye and hears the older woman sigh.

“Come with me, Juliana.” Lucía takes a hold of Juliana’s arm and gently pulls her into her office, closing the door behind her and asking her secretary to make sure they aren’t disturbed. She guides Juliana to the couch where she sits after depositing her things on the small table in front of her. Lucía takes a seat beside her. “You’re investigating it.”

It’s not a question but Juliana nods anyway.

“That’s why you and Guille are always running out of here, why you changed majors.” Lucía closes her eyes slightly. She had been shocked when Juliana told her she wasn’t studying fashion anymore, but she supported her anyway. She loved Juliana in the same way she loved Val, a maternal affection she hadn’t expected but didn’t deny. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to get your hopes up,” Juliana kept her gaze on the fingers of the hand not fingering the charm hanging from her neck. “I didn’t want to make you hurt more if we don’t find anything.”

“But you’re okay with hurting yourself like that?” Lucía touched Juliana’s arm again. Juliana stayed silent but finally looked at Lucía. “It’s okay to want answers, Juliana, I want them, too, but it’s not okay to hurt yourself to get them.”

“I always hurt,” Juliana admitted softly. “Every day that I spend without her hurts. That hasn’t gone away just because she’s been gone for so long.” Valentina’s been gone for a year and half. She’d already be twenty years old. She was only eighteen when she left. “Maybe I’m better at dealing with it now, but it still hurts that I know she won’t be there when I wake up in the morning.”

“I know,” Lucía rubs her arm softly. “It’s always going to hurt. It’s okay to miss her, Juliana, and to want her back.”

“It’s not just that,” Juliana shakes her head. “Of course I want her back, but I get it if that’s not possible. It’s terrible and I wish with all my heart that she will come back,” Juliana looked at Lucía again. “But, whether she comes back or not, I need to know what happened to them. I need to know that if she really is gone, she didn’t suffer.”

“You know that they suspected foul play in the crash but they don’t know the cause.” Lucía said.

“Don’t you want to know why they suspected foul play?” Juliana asked, reaching for the stack of papers she had been holding earlier. “Look, I have every report I could find on the day of the crash and they all say the same thing.”

Juliana held one report out to Lucía, who took it and read through it quickly.

“Captain called in that the flight was on track five minutes before communications were lost. When the plane was found, there wasn’t enough evidence to determine what happened, but investigators did find evidence to support some kind of struggle. It is unsure if the damage sustained to the inside of the plane was a product of the crash or manmade weaponry.” Lucía read the report out loud, swallowing thickly.

“They didn’t crash, Lucía. I’ve been looking for answers for a year and all I know is the plane didn’t crash.” Juliana took a deep breath before looking Lucía in the eye again. “It was taken down. Now I’m trying to find out why.”

“Juliana, you don’t know what you could find.” Lucía cautioned her, looking over her shoulder at the cabinet that held the safe in her office. Her face had paled slightly. “If that’s true, looking for more answers could just lead to danger.”

“I don’t care,” Juliana put the report back with the stack. “I need answers, I don’t care what the cost is.”

“You might not say the same in a few moments.” Lucía stood from the couch as Juliana looked back at her.

“What? Why? What do you mean?” She questioned, Lucía held her hand up to stop Juliana from asking to many more questions at once.

“I’ll answer you, I promise, but this is something Guille needs to hear as well.” Lucía moved to her desk and called her secretary, asking her to find Guille and send him in.

They waited in tense silence for Guille to arrive. He walked into the office easily, but his shoulders tensed as the atmosphere in the room reached him.

“You know.”

“Yes,” Lucía confirmed with a nod of her head. “I know what the two of you are doing, Juliana showed me the reports.” She gestured for Guille to sit beside Juliana while Lucía herself turned her back to them and knelt down to reach her safe.

“It wasn’t an accident,” Guille said, still standing. “It can’t have been, not with what’s in those reports.”

“You’re right,” Lucía stood back up. “I don’t think it was an accident either.”

Lucía approached the two people standing in her office, both of whom she considers family. Guille is her step-son, loving and gentle in nature and always there for Lucía when she can’t take the pressure of running the Carvajal media empire without León. Juliana, she and Lucía are kindred spirits, souls that most would assume should have been lost to the darkness brought in by their destructive parents. Juliana is the woman that Lucía knows would have been her daughter in law one day, if things had been different. Maybe they still can be.

Lucía looks down at the papers she’s holding, her knuckles almost white from the force of her grip. She takes a deep breath and hands the stack to Juliana.

“I found these are few weeks ago, in León’s office,” Lucía begins, wiping her suddenly sweaty hands on her skirt. Guille makes eye contact with her, silently asking if she’s okay. He knows Lucía hasn’t been able to be in León’s office very long, nor does she go in very often. Guille doesn’t blame her. He hasn’t stepped foot in his father’s office since the funeral. Lucía nods her head slightly before continuing to speak.

“I didn’t know what to do with them, so I hid them away. I’ve been trying to remember when León was working on this, but the memories are fuzzy. I know when he was investigating this, but I can’t remember why or how he got involved. I tried to let it go, I was going to shred the reports and forget about it but I couldn’t.” Lucía looked down at Juliana who was staring at the first page on the stack of papers Lucía had handed her with wide eyes. “I’m glad I didn’t get rid of them. I think they can help you.”

“What does it say Juliana?” Guille asked, finally rounding the coffee table to take a seat beside his sister. Juliana didn’t say anything and slid the paper into Guille’s lap. Guille picked up the paper, turning to look at Juliana after reading through the first paragraph. “This..This is…”

“You were right.” Lucía said after a heavy beat of silence. Juliana swallowed harshly against the lump in her throat and looked up at Lucía. “The plane didn’t crash, it wasn’t an accident or a malfunction or anything else that may have been in those reports.”

“It was taken down,” Juliana willed herself not to cry as the reality of what must have happened on that plane settled over her. “They weren’t casualties, they were targets.”

“León was the target.” Lucía corrected, her voice shaking. “He was supposed to be on that trip alone.”

“He invited Valentina at the last second, after she told him about wanting to study journalism.” Guille whispered. “This was the story he wanted to share with her.”

“What? How do you know?” Lucía asked, taking seat in the chair across from the couch. The conversation felt to heavy to keep standing, weighing on her shoulders as if she was trying to carry a mountain.

“It’s something Valentina said before she left, when she was packing.” Juliana wiped away the tear that escaped and clear her throat. “León wanted to show her what journalism was really about.”

“He had a contact in Spain, he told me about there being someone there who could help him follow a lead.” Lucía shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t know this is what he meant.”

“You didn’t know he was looking into this?” Guille asked, rubbing his hands down his face. “This is a major investigation. If he had printed this, it would have been a globally renowned article.”

“Clearly, someone didn’t want that to happen.” Juliana interrupted. “Look we can argue about why he did this and didn’t tell you later, this is the clue we needed Guille.” She looked up at Guille and then at Lucía. “This is the start of the trail, the real one.”

“Juliana, we don’t even know if they’re still alive.” Guille reminded her, as gently as he could. He wanted to believe they were, he really did. He’d give anything to have his father and sister back but the reality was that they had been missing for almost two years. Chances of finding anything about them grew slimmer by the minute.

“We don’t know for sure that they aren’t.” Juliana pointed out.

“Juliana, this is dangerous.” Lucía said. “We’ve already seen what happens to the people who investigate this.”

“I don’t care!” Juliana yells, slamming the stack of papers down on the coffee table. Guille and Lucía’s next words died on their tongues. Juliana clenched her fists, drawing in short, sharp breaths. “I don’t care.”

The repetition of her words triggered something inside her, a long held back desperation and tears fell from her eyes. The comforting hands she feels on her back are warm, familiar, but not the hands she wants to feel. They’re too big, the fingers to long and thick. Juliana’s chest heaves as she takes another unsteady breath. She can feel all the fears she’s pushed to the back of her mind surfacing, clamping her heart in an icy grip. She feels numb all over. She doesn’t care. Not about the danger she’ll be in if they keep digging, not of what the others think she could lose. She doesn’t have anything left to lose. It’s a truth she tries to keep hidden, tries to keep buried beneath the half-hearted smiles and too much caffeine. It’s a truth she doesn’t want anyone else to know, because the truth is Juliana knows she’d give up everything to find Valeninta. She doesn’t feel like she’s living without Val by her side, she’s simply existing. She’s drifting through the world looking for the soulmate she’s already found because she’ll be damned if she’ll lose her forever.

“Juliana,” the woman looked up at the sound of a new voice in the room. She’d been so lost in the swarm of emotion in her heart that she hadn’t even heard the door open and the eldest Carvajal sibling come in the room.

“I’m not stopping, Eva,” Juliana’s voice came out in a broken whisper. “I can’t.”

“I know,” Eva pulled Juliana into her embrace, closing her eyes as the woman who had become a sister to her cried against her chest. She can count on one hand the number of times she’s seen Juliana cry in the five years they’ve known each other, starting with the night she came to the Carvajal mansion with blood on her hands and a cut on her face courtesy of her own father. The next, when Valentina was hit by a drunk driver and put in the hospital after she and Juliana had a fight. Then, the day Valentina was officially declared missing. She knows Juliana isn’t comfortable crying around people, that she feels weak in a way that no one understands. She knows that Juliana has only gotten more closed off the longer Valentina has been missing.

“What do we do?” Guille asked minutes later, after Juliana had composed herself and pulled away from Eva. Lucía rests her hand on Juliana’s shoulder and squeezes softly as Eva reaches for the stack of papers, picking up the one on top.

“We follow the trail,” Eva says, confident in her own experience in journalism and knowing the other three people the room share a determination she feels bubbling within herself. “We find el Vació, we find out what happened to our family.”

“How are we going to do that?” Guille asks, rubbing a hand down his face. Juliana can see the exhaustion in his shoulders, the dim glint, always there but different these days. She wonders if that has anything to do with his increasingly frequent coffee meetings with Renata.

“How we should have been doing it all along,” Juliana says, looking first and Lucía and then Eva in silent apology for not including them sooner, “together.”

~

Juliana isn’t surprised when Eva tells her they need to speak with El Chino. She almost saw it coming, the further they looked into el Vació the more it seemed like they were looking for something rather than someone. She had long ago told the Carvajal’s who her father was, knowing they deserved the explanation after the night Juliana showed up on their doorstep covered in her own blood. She knows that her father is part of the reason it took Eva so long to warm up to her, not that Juliana blamed her. She never thought she was good enough for Valentina either.

Juliana knows that despite having been in jail for the last four and a half year, Chino would still have ties to the cartel, and those ties can lead them to El Vació. Juliana spends the day with her mother while Eva and Guille visit Chino in prison.

“You’ve found something, haven’t you?” Lupe asks, her eyes focused on her daughters fingers that tap the outside of the mug she holds in her hand. Her other hand is raised, fiddling with the ‘v’ charm around her neck that Lupe has never seen her take off, not since the day Valentina left.

“What makes you say that?” Juliana tries to avoid the question, clearing her throat and taking a sip of her coffee.

“I’m your mother. I know you.” Lupe reaches out and places her hand on her daughter’s arm. “I haven’t seen you this filled with nervous energy in a long time.”

“I’m not nervous.” Juliana protests immediately, but she knows her mother is right. She is nervous, anxious, tired of waiting for answers that never seem to come.

“What’s going on?” Lupe questions softly and Juliana sighs. She doesn’t want to tell her mother about the investigation, she knows Lupe is already constantly worried about her. About her health and her happiness. Juliana doesn’t want to know what Lupe would say when she finds out Juliana is actively looking for a connection to the life they finally escaped when Chino was put behind bars.

“Nothing,” Juliana shakes her head and avoids her mother’s gaze. “Tell me more about this Pancho. You said you two had dinner recently?”

Lupita lets the topic change go and starts telling Juliana more about the man she’s been seeing recently. He seems like a decent guy, recently divorced and with a child of his own, but Juliana can see how much her mother cares for him. There’s something different about Lupe when she talks about him, a faint glowing that Juliana can only see because she’s familiar with it. It’s the glow that comes from finding someone who can truly love, faults and all. It’s the glow she’s been desperately trying to hang onto for two and half-years.

It’s the glow that used to surround Valentina every time she looked at Juliana.

As Lupe continues speaking, Juliana’s mind drifts back to happier times, when the world seemed bright and colorful and full of possibilities.

“Val, amor, what are you doing?” Juliana asked without looking up from her sketchbook as she felt the girl in question step up behind her. Slender arms encircled Juliana as Valentina rested her hands on the arms rests of the chair Juliana sat in.

“Watching you draw.” Valentina answered softly, settling her chin on Juliana’s shoulder and then turning her head to press a kiss to Juliana’s neck. “You’re beautiful.”

“Val, shut up.” Juliana chuckled, unable to fight the blush that rose on her cheeks. Juliana was sitting at Valentina’s dress, wearing a t-shirt she stole from Val that fell to her mid thighs and with her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She can feel Valentina’s smile against her neck.

“What are you drawing?” Val asks, shifting her weight to look over Juliana’s shoulder better.

“Nothing special.” Juliana smiled shyly as she closed her notebook, hiding the beginnings of a sleeping Valentina on the page. She had spent nearly ten minutes admiring her slumbering girlfriend before the urge to draw her finally pulled Juliana out of bed.

“Everything you draw is special, Juls.” Valentina says but she doesn’t try to open the sketchbook again. Instead she leans back so Juliana can turn the chair around to face her. Once they’re facing each other, Valentina leans her hands back on the armrests and nudges her nose against Juliana’s.

“Whatever you say, love.” Juls mumbles before pressing their lips together. They kiss slowly, unhurried, a slow tango that only they know the steps too.

“Come back to bed.” Valentina whispers against her lips when Juliana starts to pull away. Juliana laughs as she looks over at the clock.

“Val, it’s almost noon. A little late to go back to sleep don’t you think?”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” Valentina smirks, trailing her fingers  along Juliana’s thigh.

“Don’t you have a family thing this afternoon?” Juliana asks, reaching for Valentina’s hands to stop them from moving. Valentina’s smirk grows.

“Wouldn’t be the first time we were late.” Valentina kisses her again, sliding her tongue into Juliana’s mouth when the kiss deepens. Juliana’s fingers thread through Valentina’s hair and she pulls her closer. Valentina turns her body slightly and settles in Juliana’s lap without breaking their kiss.

“We can continue this later Val,” Juliana says when Valentina breaks their kiss to duck down and nibble on Juliana’s pulse point. “Valentina,”

“Okay, okay,” Val lifted her head back up, pressing her lips against Juliana’s again before climbing off of her lap. “But then we have to get dressed right now, because I know you only have on that shirt and it’s driving me crazy.”

Juliana giggles as she stands, pulling Val close again and wrapping her arms around her.

“I love you.” Juliana whispers and kisses Val’s nose.

“I love you, too.” Val responds, a glint in her eyes that makes Juliana feel weak at the knees. “And if you weren’t insisting that we leave, I’d show you just how much.”

“Well,” Juliana hums, twisting the ends of Valentina’s hair in her fingers, “maybe we don’t have to leave right away.”

She can’t help but giggle when Valentina eagerly pulls her back to the bed.

They’re very late for the event they were supposed to attend with Valentina’s family and teased relentlessly for the rest of the week.

Juliana leaves her mother’s house with a little more bounce in her step than normal, happy that her mother finally has a real love in her life and praying that Juliana will get back the same.

~

Juliana isn’t surprised when Chino refuses to give up any information without speaking to Juliana first. He thinks he still has some sway over her, can still hold her old fear of him against her for his advantage. He’s wrong.

Juliana is still afraid of the man her father was, but she refuses to cower in front of him again. A small part of her is glad that the one time he struck her left its mark, a barely visible scar on her cheekbone that is only seen when you know to look for it. Juliana knows Chino will look for the mark he left, will want to see the fruits of his labor and bask in his supposed victory. But Juliana knows he hasn’t one anything. He left a mark on her, yes, but he will never know how much his actions affected Juliana or how long it took her to truly recover. No one knows about the nightmares Juliana had after her forced coming out, the dreams where Chino did more than hit her, the ones when he went after Valentina instead. Juliana barely slept the week after it happened and the sleep she did get was because she had Valentina beside her to dry her tears and soothe her worries. She won’t let her father do that to her again. She’s stronger now, prepared for him to hate her for who she loves.

Guille goes with her to speak with Chino, with plans to meet Eva and Lucía after at the Carvajal mansion. Juliana shoves down the emotions that come with knowing she’s going to be at Valentina’s home without Valentina there and focuses on the task at hand. They’re brought in and searched for any contraband before being allowed into the visitation room. Guille requested a private room for them and they sit on one side of the table to wait for Chino. He is ushered in quickly, chains around his wrists, stomach and ankles. His beard and hair had grown since the last time Juliana saw him and there’s a new scar that cuts across his cheek. When he looks at Juliana, his eyes hold the same unsure discontent that they used to.

“You wanted to talk,” Juliana begins after Chino sits down, not giving him the chance to stare at her in the silence that would have stretched between them. “So, talk.”

“You won’t find her.” Chino’s voice is gruff and low. “When El Vació wants someone to disappear, they don’t come back.”

“What do you know?” Juliana questions, jaw clenched.

“León Carvajal got to close to the truth and he paid for it.” Chino’s tone doesn’t change until he looks up, directly into Juliana’s eyes. “Your girl was just the icing on the cake.”

He’s taunting her, pulling at the strings that hurt the most. Juliana clenches her hands into fists, breathes deeply through her nose.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Chino waits before answering, a pregnant pause filling the tense silence. “Because the same thing will happen to you if you keep digging.” He moves as if to reach out for Juliana, hands open to grab her shoulders but the chains on his body stop him. Juliana flinches slightly anyway, ignoring Guille’s glance in her direction to focus on her father. “Having my name can only protect you so much.”

“I don’t need your protection.” Juliana spits out, the words sharp as they leave her tongue. “I don’t need anything from you, I never did.”

“Let me give you some advice: let her go.”

“You do not get to speak about her,” Juliana shoots to her feet, slapping her palms down on the table. “You don’t know anything about her or us.”

“I know you love her.” There’s something different in Chino’s voice, a brokenness that Juliana doesn’t expect to hear. “I know you’ll do anything to find her. I know that kind of love is dangerous.”

“What do you know about love?” Juliana turns her back from her father, certain he won’t have anything to say to her but advice she doesn’t want and knowledge she already has.

“More than you think I do,” Chino answers, “especially about her love for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Guille speaks for the first time since they entered the room. “What do you know?”

Juliana turns back around to face her father, watches his calculating gaze as he mulls over what to say, how much to reveal. Emotions bubble within her, too many for her to define. Chino looks at her again and she stares back, unwavering. Chino knows something about Valentina and Juliana isn’t leaving until she finds out what.

“She’s alive.”

Juliana can’t help the gasp that escapes her throat. Her knees give out and she falls back into her seat.

“What?” Her voice is shaky, suspended between overwhelmed and disbelieving.

“She’s still alive.” Chino repeats. “Valentina didn’t die when the plane fell. She’s been fighting ever since.”

“Fighting what?” Guille’s voice is harder than Juliana expected but she can hear the edge of tears in his voice.

“Fighting to come home.” Chino waits for them to say something but nothing comes. “El Vació still holds a grudge, they don’t forgive or forget. Valentina was only the beginning.”

“What do you mean ‘was?’” Juliana asked suddenly. “What happened?”

“She’s gone,” Chino shrugged. “Don’t know how or why, but El Vació lost her. No one knows where she is. But they’ll find her, and when they do she really will be gone.”

“How long?” Guille grinds his teeth together to the point that Juliana can hear the bones scraping against one another. “How long has she been gone?”

“A few weeks, maybe a month.” Chino shrugs again but he seems more bothered by the conversation than he lets on.

“What about my father?” Guille asks and Juliana finds herself praying for a second miracle. Valentina was still alive, maybe León was too.

“Dead before the plane hit the water.”

Guille covers his face with his hands and takes a deep breath.

“How do you know this?” Juliana can hear the emotion in her voice and swallows against the lump in her throat.

“El Vació isn’t the kind of cartel that you can just leave.” Chino doesn’t offer anything more. “They won’t stop until they get her back.”

“Neither will I.”

Juliana storms out to the room without looking back at her father, her heart in her throat and unable to keep the tears from falling.

She was right.

Valentina wasn’t gone.

Valentina was alive.

Valentina was fighting to come home.

Juliana would fight too.

Guille catches up to her outside the prison, the same storm Juliana feels inside reflected on his face. They were right and now they knew it. Juliana didn’t trust her father, she couldn’t, but she knew when he was lying.

Valentina was alive and Juliana wouldn’t stop until she was finally home again.

~

They’re getting closer, Juliana can feel it. Every step she takes is carrying her closer to Valentina, she feels the certainty of that deep inside, almost down to her very soul. Juliana doesn’t sleep, she can’t, now now that she knows Valentina’s has been fighting for so long. Her dreams give way to the worst things her mind can conjure up. Valentina bloody and broken on a dirty floor, coughing up blood, her body bruised beyond recognition.

She wakes up screaming for Valentina, reaching for her even though she knows Valentina isn’t in bed beside her. She cries and clings to Valentina’s old hoodie until the sun comes up. Then, she gets up and keeps digging. She knows Valentina is digging too, wherever she is. Valentina hasn’t given up on coming home, Juliana won’t give up on bringing her home.

Lucía warns her to be more careful, taking Chino’s warning to heart. El Vació won’t take kindly to someone else digging into their business, and they’ll stop it just as they did before. Juliana tries to hold back, to not make it obvious how far she’s gotten into the investigation but she can’t stop. She knows they’re close, the just need a little bit more. If they can find where Valentina was, they can figure out where she may be now.

They can bring her home.

She knows she’s being followed, she can feel the eyes on her as she leaves El Centro. She should have left hours ago, when Guille and Lucía did, but she had one more thing she wanted to double check. She felt like she was going crazy, pouring over the same bits of information again and again, knowing that they don’t hold anything that she doesn’t already know. They’re inching closer to the truth of what happened on that plane, but each step takes them closer and closer to the edge. Juliana feels as if she’s walking a very fine line, and each step she takes can tip her towards the wrong side.

Juliana quickens her pace as she hears footsteps behind her, two sets the speed up to match her stride for stride. She’s too far away from the office to turn back, not yet close enough to her car to try to run for it. Her heartbeat pounds in her ears and she fumbles for her keys. A hand reaches out, wrapping around her arm and pulling her to a stop.

“Wait just a second, little girl.” A deep voice growls in her ear.

“Let me go.” Juliana tries to shrug out of his grip. He holds on to her tighter, Juliana can feel bruises forming under his fingers.

“I don’t think so.” His mouth is right next to her ear, brushing against the shell uncomfortably. “You know who we are. You know we won’t let you go.”

“At least, not before we have some fun with you.” The second man steps up to Juliana’s other side, rough fingers brushing across her face. Juliana clenches her jaw and pulls away from him. “This one’s got some fight in her.”

“We’ll have fun breaking you, little girl.” The first man pulls Juliana’s arm backwards hard enough to make her stumble. Her keys slip out of her hands and he kicks them away with a devilish smirk. “No one’s coming to save you.”

He lifts his hand and grips Juliana’s chin roughly, the second man tracing his hands down her figure. Juliana feels bile rise in her throat. She wants to run, to fight, to do anything but she’s paralyzed, frozen in her fear. The first man pulls at her face uncomfortably and Juliana forces her eyes closed.

“Look at me, little girl.” He yells at her. “Look at me! Loo-”

The man is cut off suddenly, the weight of his hands on Juliana disappearing just as quick. She hears the thud of one and then another body hitting the pavement. Her eyes open slowly, gasping for breath.

A figure stands with their back to her, a twin set of blades strapped to their back and dressed in solid black leather. They have a hood up, their head down. The two men stumble to their feet, pulling guns from their waistbands and training the barrels on the figure in black. Juliana wants to call out, to stop them but she can’t. She’s still frozen, still in shock at the turn of events.

The figure in black moves slowly, inching towards Juliana as if to act like a shield.

“You messed with the wrong people, girl.” The first man says. “Leave now, before you get hurt.”

The figure, woman, remains silent. Her stance is challenging, powerful, her body angled toward Juliana ever so slightly. Both men cock their guns.

Juliana feels time grow slow.

The woman looks over her shoulder.

Their eyes meet.

Blue to brown.

Valentina.

Juliana blinks.

A gun goes off.

The figure moves faster than Juliana thought possible, pulling a single blade from the sheath on her back and advancing towards the men.

Another gunshot, a ping as the bullet collides with the metal of her blade.

The first man collapses.

Another shot. The woman ducks, the man avoids the swing of her blade and knocks her backwards. She almost crashed into Juliana. Their eyes meet again.

Valentina.

The figure spins as the gun is fired again. Juliana hears a sharp intake of breath followed by a grunt of pain. The bullet must have hit her protector. They both hit the ground, the woman in black absorbing the impact to her back before rolling them so Juliana is resting against the pavement.

“Stay down.” Juliana feels herself almost sink into the ground at the sound of the voice. She opens her mouth as if to speak but no sound comes out. Valentina is the woman in black. Valentina is the one protecting her.

It’s Valentina.

Tears pool in Juliana’s eyes and she doesn’t blink them away. She doesn’t want to close her eyes for even a second. She’s dreaming. She must be. She knew Valentina was alive. She knows that. She knows that every day she spent searching brought her closer and closer to this moment. She knows it and yet she can’t believe her eyes.

The second man rushes at Valentina, gun still in hand. Valentina waits until the last possible second before sliding out of the way, wiping the handle of her sword against the man’s back. He falls to the ground again, spitting blood out of his mouth as he sits up again. He makes eye contact with Juliana, his grin turns feral, a dribble of blood falling from the corner of his lips.

It happens in a second.

He lifts the gun.

A voice calls Juliana’s name, foreign and familiar all at once.

A bang.

Juliana screams.

The last thing Juliana sees before her world turns dark is a crystalline blue, a blue that makes it seem like her life is finally full of color again.

~

She’s dreaming, she knows.

The colors that surround her are bright in way they haven’t been. Not since Val left. Not since Juliana lost her whole world. The reds are bright, the greens and yellows and warm, the blues more vibrant than she’s ever seen. Fingers are linked with hers, twisting and playing with them mindlessly as she and her partner lay together on a blanket over the grass. The smile that stretches across her lips is more real than anything she’s felt in three years.

She hears a soft giggle to her right and turns her head. A pair of lips descend on hers, warm and familiar. Juliana sighs against them, lifting her free hand to card her fingers through soft brown hair.

“I love you, Juliana Valdez.” The voice is soft, melodic. A symphony of devotion and love that Juliana wants to spend the rest of her life memorizing.

“I love you, Valentina Carvajal.” She replies. “Always.”

~

Juliana jumps awake, a pain filled gasp slipping past her lips as the motion aggravated the throbbing mark on her stomach. She reached for the source of the ache, surprised when her hand came into contact with the rough fabric of a bandage instead of her blood stained skin. She blinks quickly, trying to get rid of the drowsy haze that clouds her vision. She doesn’t know where she is or how she got there. The last thing she remembers is a burst of pain, white hot and stinging in her abdomen and the clearest blue eyes she’s ever seen. Familiar blue eyes.

Valentina’s eyes.

“You shouldn’t move so much,” a voice says, drawing Juliana’s gaze to the left. A figure sits, shrouded in shadows. Juliana blinks, not sure what to say. “You’ll pull your stitches.”

“Val…” Her voice comes at in a whisper, low and filled with disbelief and awe in equal measures. “Is it really you?”

The figure in the shadows shifts, standing up and moving towards Juliana. Slow, deliberate steps carry her closer and closer until she pauses at the edge of the cot Juliana sits on. Juliana watches as the woman pauses, hands wrapped in dirty gauze and dirty fingernails slowly reaching towards the hood the woman wears that hides her eyes from view. The hood falls and the figure looks up, crystalline blue eyes meet chocolate brown.

Juliana suddenly feels fifteen years old again, looking into Valentina’s eyes while the other girl cleans the cut on her face. She’s breathless, exhilarated, a euphoria she’s never known crashing through her as her world finally begins to spin the right way again. It’s Valentina. Her Valentina. Standing right before her, breathing, living and staring at Juliana in the same trance like way she always had, as if she was basking in the beauty of the world’s greatest masterpiece.

“It’s me, Juls.”

Juliana is up, off the cot before her body can register the movement. She crashes into Valentina, ignoring the pain in her stomach and holding back the sobs that threaten to tear from her throat. Valentina’s arms wrap around Juliana’s waist, her hold gentle but firm in the way that used to be so familiar to Juliana. Juliana’s arms wrap around Val’s shoulders without thought and she tucks her forehead into the crook between Val’s neck and shoulder.

“Juliana,” Valentina whispers her name reverently, one hand lifting from Juliana’s waist to card nimble fingers through her hair.

“Valentina,” Juliana breathes deeply through her nose. Valentina’s scent takes over her senses, a strangled sob ripping through Juliana’s throat as she exhales. It’s still there, that hint of something that Juliana used to find everytime she and Val hugged in this way, that something that Juliana had missed so dearly for the past three years. Home.

“Juliana, your stitches.” Valentina’s voice rings with concern, a tenderness that reminds her of how things used to be. Juliana pulls back slightly, wincing at the burst of pain the action causes, so she can look Valentina in the eyes again. It’s then that Juliana the past three years, the pain, the despair, the longing, the crushing weight of the world telling her to give up, that Valentina was gone, Chino’s certainty that Val was alive, Juliana’s determination to find her, it all comes crashing back.

The weight of what she feels pushes Juliana off her feet, Valentina’s arms around her guiding her to the cot as her knees weaken. Another sob escapes her, stronger than the one before. Her eyes fall closed, tears streaming from them without her control. She can’t breathe, she can’t move. It’s too much for her to process.

Valentina was gone.

Valentina was gone for three years.

Juliana fought so hard to find her.

Juliana was so scared she was fighting a losing battle.

She wasn’t.

Valentina was back.

Valentina was here.

Valentina was home.

Juliana hears a soft rustling, the warmth of Valentina’s arms around her goes away and a soft whimper escapes her. She can hear Valentina’s voice but the words float above her, incomprehensible in the hurricane Juliana has raging inside her.

“Breathe, Juliana, you need to breathe.” Valentina’s arms are around her again, but there’s something different. There’s less of a barrier now, Juliana realizes the rustling she heard must have been Valentina stripping of the outer layer of her clothing. Her hands slide up Valentina’s arms, her skin soft but lined with hard muscles just beneath the surface. Valentina had a tank top on beneath her jacket so Juliana’s fingers slid up to caress her shoulders. She hears Valentina inhale sharply as her fingers touch a raised mark on the back of her shoulder. Something that wasn’t there before.

It’s then that Juliana realizes that just because she’s in Valentina’s arms again, that she’s safe and home in her warm embrace, that doesn’t mean everything is going to be okay. It doesn’t matter that she’s still Valentina’s, that she never stopped feeling like Valentina’s partner, because despite what she felt Valentina was gone. They hadn’t been this close, hadn’t been together, really together, for three years.

Everything is the same.

Nothing is the same.

Juliana cries harder.

“Juliana, amor, you need to breathe.” Valentina’s voice is low and soothing, a murmur in Juliana’s ear. “Juls, please.”

“You left.” Juliana’s voice is so low Valentina has to strain her ears to hear it. “You were gone.”

“I know,” Valentina shifts, curling her arm beneath Juliana’s knees to pull her fully into her own lap. She leans her back against the wall and hold Juliana against her chest.

“You were supposed to come home.” Juliana presses herself closer to Valentina. “You didn’t come home to me.”

“I know. I’m so sorry mi amor.” Valentina holds back her own tears. “I tried, I tried to come back to you. I’m so sorry.”

“Val,” Juliana lifts her head from Valentina’s shoulder to look at her. “Val, it’s you.” Shaky hands lift to caress Valentina’s face. “I can’t believe it’s you. Is it you?”

“It’s me, Juliana.” Valentina promises. She moves slowly, inclining her head slightly so her forehead rests against Juliana’s. “I’m here, I’m with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Juliana’s eyes fall closed briefly, her gaze focusing on a thin line of silver on Valentina’s neck when she opens them again. One hand moves, inching across Valentina’s neck until her fingers close around the charm hanging from the silver chain. The ‘j’ is dirty, just like the chain it’s attached to but Juliana can still feel the words ‘mi amor’ written on the back of it.

“You have no idea how hard it was to keep that,” Valentina whispers. “I almost lost it so many times, trying to get back to you.” The fingers around Juliana’s waist flex, pulling her closer. “It reminded me why I kept fighting. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost it.”

“You came home.” Juliana looks into Valentina’s eyes again, her own red-rimmed but shining with the love she was so scared she’d never feel again.

“You brought me home.” Valentina nudges her nose against Juliana’s.

“I never stopped searching for you.”

“I know.”

“I was so scared I’d never see you again.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you,”

Juliana can feel Valentina’s breath against her lips and she leans in, closing the distance between them. They kiss softly, timidly and it feels so much like their first kiss, six years ago. It feels like the exhilarating rush of falling in love.

It feel like the intense relief of finally, finally, coming home.

It feels like forever.

[yumas3lo]

Donovan Carrillo: "I need to worry more about skating and less about money"

New Interview by Proceso, published on August 19, 2018.

Presenting a program with the music by Juan Gabriel in an international skating competition was a double-edged sword for Donovan Carrillo: he became famous, but he was also attacked for it. Under the culture of effort, "always willing to suffer", this 18-year-old is the only opportunity that Mexico has to qualify to the 2022 Olympic Games in Beijing. However, the lack of support puts his goal at risk. While the Mexican sports authorities turn their backs (they didn't pay attention to him when he asked for a uniform) a Chinese company already has their eyes on him. 

Donovan Carrillo was born with rhythm. As a child he could dance to any kind of music. Juan Gabriel and the Backstreet Boys inspired him to move his body. He could imitate the steps of any choreography. He would dance as well as he could do in gymnastics and diving, disciplines that he practiced from three years until the figure skating crossed his path.

On the ice rink in Guadalajara, a girl captivated him. In order to know her, he asked his parents to enroll him. The girl inspired him. Sliding on solid water made him fall in love forever.

It's been 26 years since the last time a Mexican skater qualified for the Winter Olympics Games. Ricardo Olavarrieta was in Albertville 1992 and in Calgary 1988. Carrillo is the only opportunity that Mexico has to have a representative in Beijing 2022. With 18 years old, the Jalisco skater finished in 22nd place in his first Senior World Championship that took place in Italy and in 2017 he finished in 7th place in the Australian Junior Grand Prix.

Carrillo's Olympic project is a familiar goal. His parents, a couple of P.E. teachers who work from dawn to dusk in public schools, carry debts that will soon be unpayable. His coach, Gregorio Núñez, with whom the skater has worked for almost 11 years, does not charge him for the training hours, which can cost between 150 and 450 MX pesos half an hour. He invests his time and money in the dream of someone who already looks like his own son.

"He is the breakthrough of Mexican figure skating. He is the best nationally speaking. He has achieved very important results, such as being the first Mexican to qualify for a World Championships based on points, which has lots of merit. If he didn't had the shortcomings that he lived, he would have achieved more. The Olympic Games will be the culmination of all the effort he has made", says Gregorio Núñez.

In Mexico there are only two ice rinks of 30m x 60m, which are the official measures of the International Skating Union (ISU): in Monterrey and in CDMX. Donovan Carrillo lives since he was 13 in León, Guanajuato, where Núñez moved when he was hired as a coach on the the Ice Sports Center's rink, which measures are 23m x 50m.

He trains there with a grant, without paying for the use of the facilities, but every time he goes out to an international competition he must adapt his programs to a bigger rink, which complicates his performance. There is no way to consider about training outside of Mexico and without Gregorio Núñez. The investment would be around 5,000 dollars a month.

Carrillo works helping to coach Núñez's group. Collecting every coin to pay for his preparation. At this stage it is vital for him to participate in the largest number of international competitions as possible.

"Every time we see things darker so we can't go out and compete. We organize raffles or breakfasts to pay everything. I started selling diaries with training tips. From there we could pay the flight for Worlds, otherwise I wouldn't have been there. I need support from other people to reach my goals. I have raised my level, but I know can give more. I am willing to work very hard. Not having the institutional support does not mean that I'm going to give up", explains Carrillo. Donovan Carrillo was seven years old the first time he had contact with figure skating. At the end of his gymnastics and diving training, he accompanied his parents to pick up his older sister, who was skating with Gregorio Núñez in a rink from Guadalajara.

He discovered that it was a perfect sport for his personality: it involves jumps with turns of high difficulty, like the ones he already did. It includes dance and corporal expression. He left gymnastics and for a year and he tried diving and skating. By that time, he was studying in the facilities of the Sports Institute of Jalisco.

When he decided to train skating on a full-time basis, he had to switch to a conventional school that was not as generous as the one where athletes study. Since his parents weren't enough to pay for training on ice, he also trained roller speed skating. 

Núñez detected in Donovan the talent for this sport. Thin and with short stature, light but agile and very strong, with a natural charisma that allows him to perform with ease in crowded public spaces. He had and an extraordinary rhythm for dancing, which he polished over the years with ballet and jazz classes.

The first day on the ice rink Donovan faced the challenge of maintaining balance on the blades of his skates, which measure is less than half a centimeter wide. He learned the difficult task of standing up correctly with unsteady feet, then he started walking and then marching. He never was afraid to fall. He wasn't measuring the danger, he was encouraged to jump and spin. The many times he fell were when he got up smiling.

"The day I skated for the first time I felt that I found the place where I belong, where I can express myself and feel free", he recalls. In a matter of a month he learned all the basics: pushing, slide back and forth and make simple jumps. The spins in different positions were his biggest headache. At first he was dizzy. He would get lost in space, and although he felt he was spinning a lot, he actually would make less than two turns. With hours of training and perseverance he managed to master them. Later he began to learn the jumps that amaze the spectators: Salchow, Toe Loop, Loop, Flip, Lutz and Axel, three of them baptized in honor of the first skaters who executed them. Each jump can be done with two to four turns. He knew how enter the jumps with the blades, to break the rotation and then slide the whole sole of the foot at the exact moment to avoid falls. A jump in the air lasts less than half a second. There's no time to think. They are pure sensations.

"It's very easy to say. But you have to learn the jump to add another turn. To learn a jump, I can fall 200 or 300 times. But I thought that just as I learned to walk by falling, then I can learn to skate. I learned that it's okay to fall down several times to make it perfect. I stopped and kept going, always willing to go through the pain."

For almost four years, Donovan Carrillo used the skates his sister Dafne inherited to him. The first four pairs he had were white. His mom took them with a shoemaker so that, at least, he could paint them black. At home there was no place to buy his own pair of skates. They were so big that his foot could move inside the boot, which is based on layers of a hard skin, which could hurt him. The feet of the skaters themselves are not pretty. They tend to have calluses and fingers deformed by the narrowness of the skate. They are used to training and competing, involving pain. Donovan does not hide a "second ankle" that he has in the instep of both feet. It's the callus that was formed because his feet were in constant movement, because the skates were not his size. At first it hurt a lot.

His first skates were bought when his sister's skates were stolen. He was preparing for a national championship, so his parents had no choice but to disburse thousands of pesos on them. They are black and by the Canadian brand Jackson, and the blades were a Paramount. He keeps them as the most precious treasure he has ever had.

In April 2013 the Ice Land rink closed. Donovan was training with Gregorio Núñez for six years by that time, then Gregorio went to León, where he was offered a job as a coach.

"When I was 13 years old, I went to live with him. My parents supported me and let me go. My coach opened the doors of his house and I formed a father-son bond. He never charged me for the classes. He does it for the love of sports. I was lucky to meet someone who is willing to sacrifice his personal life to help me fulfill my dream", he says.

Coach Nunez not only loses his salary when he accompanies Carrillo to competitions, he has to leave his students in charge with someone else. In the 14 years that he has been a coach, the updating courses that he has to take each year in United States or Canada run on his own. He learns the best techniques there, and also the judging system, because this is a sport of appreciation.

With 9 years old, Donovan competed in a National Championship that was held in Metepec. There he made himself known in the Mexican figure skating community. The attendees came to congratulate him on the program he presented. In Mexico it is very complicated for skaters to stay competing for many years. As they arrive, they’d disappear.

Then he jumped into the category where skaters of all ages compete, from 12 y/o to veteran skaters. He faced his lack of experience. The world fell apart in his first international event in the Cuautitlán Izcalli rink (which also closed). At the ISU Junior Grand Prix, for the first time he saw Russians, Americans and Canadians, the biggest countries. Out of 18 participants he ended 13th.

"It was shocking. I was not used to it or mentally prepared to see quadruple or triple jumps. I just worked with doubles and tried some triples. I was in shock. My coach helped me get out of the mental block. I discovered that my path was still very long. I was already important in Mexico, but I was very far from the world level. I started to travel abroad to compete, to try out, and I have been reaching the affordable goals I set for myself."

The lack of money lacks as a problem in front of the bullying that Donovan Carrillo has faced. He is well aware about the harassment all the children who dared to practice a sport considered exclusive for women has experienced. Dozens of them who trained, competed in the nationals later disappeared from the sport.

"At school, some people, or our neighbors would ask me 'why figure skating? that's for girls'. My mom was asked if she wasn't afraid that I would become gay for skating. These the prejudices that people have towards men who practice an artistic discipline, such as ballet or gymnastics. Society prevents us from growing and developing in the environments where we truly like to be in. They will say we have stop. There are many who left because they could not stand with the harassment. Sometimes the parents themselves say: 'No. My son will turn out gay', and then they take them to practice football instead."

— Did it affected you enough, to the level of wanting to drop skating? My parents helped me to overcome it. Yes, it came to affect me. They told me: "As long as you like it and you are clear about who you are, it should not affect you. If you are gay, we support you. You don't have to feel different." And I'd tell told them: "Believe me, I'm not gay. I like skating and I like girls". In Europe, skaters do not suffer this, people assume that it is a sport that has nothing to do with sexual preferences. It is very Latin American, in general, to associate it with being gay.

"I suffered a lot at school. They said to me: 'Here comes the [girly] skater'. Nobody can change it, it depends on the education and in the formation of the values of the house of said person, about respect towards others. At first I tried to explain and make them think about it, but people are so cruel. They say it to hurt you. It's useless. You can't save yourself from the comments or doubts. There is a lot of talent and there could be more skaters representing Mexico."

In 2016, when Donovan Carrillo reach fame because he presented a program with music by Juan Gabriel, the harassment escalated to social networks. "You see, he's gay", "They're going to make him gay", they wrote. The athlete was outraged that they used the word homosexual to insult him and as a way to offend his work. He gave himself time to defend himself, but the disqualifications kept going.

The costumes he uses moves away those who wants to offend. Although it is a pair of trousers and a shirt, they wear decorations with Swarovski crystals or sequins and embroidered beads. They are very expensive costumes, between 10,000 and 15,000 MX pesos. You have to choose the best costumes, those that weigh less so that you feel light when you execute the jumps and turnstiles. The brand from Queretaro called Artistic has sponsored him. His mother spent hours embroidering and gluing crystals to lower the cost when his costumes were designed in Guadalajara. The new black & pink suit with that he'll use in his next competitions must be paid by his family, since his sponsor is not in a position to give the money to pay it.

The sportswear firm Li-Ning recently gave him 15 train clothes. He will shortly sign a contract for this Chinese brand to give him whatever he needs. When he asked for a uniform of Mexico to use it in a competition [Kiss&Cry], he never received a response from the sports authorities of our country. With whom he makes his costumes, he ordered to design jackets with the colors of Mexico, for him and his coach.

Between August 22-25, Carrillo will participate in the ISU Junior Grand Prix that will take place in Bratislava, Slovakia. There is another date for him at the end of the month in Linz, Austria, but he will not attend due to the lack of money. The most important competitions for 2019 are the Four Continents Championships and both the Junior and Senior World Championships. He is not sure how many of them he'll be able to participate in, because of the lacking of funds.

"My most important goal is to qualify for the Olympic Games and end in a good place, not just attend there, it's to make all the investment worthy. I'm at a point where it's important to attend as many international competitions as I can to generate a good ranking position and so the classification will be easier to reach, as well as improve my level. I'm very proud because my coach and I have fulfilled all the goals we have set for ourselves thanks to the effort, work and sacrifice we made. I need to stop worrying about my career expenses and just focus on skating."

[anotherwellkeptsecret]

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Here are some H/W ACD fics that I think you might enjoy, if you haven’t already read them:

Masked Ball by Waid (rated Teen, 31K) Six months after Holmes’ return from the dead, the delicate equilibrium in Baker Street is disturbed when  a stranger walks out of the London fog with a case – for Watson. Holmes is wary, Watson is fascinated. But who is the man calling himself Álvaro de León? And what does he really want?

The Missing Pages series by PlaidAdder (most are rated Teen, one is rated Mature, 83K). This is a group of interlinked short stories (most between 2000 and 7000 words) which tell the story of how Holmes and Watson  really came to be separated at the Reichenbach Falls, and how they found each other again. Each story is in the form of a document–a letter, a journal, a surveillance report, an affidavit, etc.–which is linked to one or more ACD canon tales, and which tells us something about that story that was changed or suppressed in Watson’s published account of it. Holmes/Watson, with glimpses of other relationships.

Birds to a Lighthouse by Katie Forsythe (rated Explicit, 54K) Every story has a Reichenbach, and this is theirs: what did James Moriarty do to cause Holmes to abandon his family for three years?

A Hymn to the Endlessly Falling by Katie Forsythe (rated Mature, 18K). In 1927, a funeral, a wedding, and Sherlock Holmes teach John Watson how to let go.

The Mirror of Myself by tweedisgood (rated Explicit, 10K). Who is the young client with the eerily familiar face? Why does the person he represents not want to come to Baker Street? Can Holmes solve a twenty-year-old mystery? How is Dr John “3 Continents” Watson coping with a life of celibacy these days?

The Apothecaries’ Garden by saki101 (rated Teen, 10K). Watson hopes to distract Holmes during a lull between cases.

The Seventeenth Page Affliction by EmmyAngua (rated Explicit, 10K). His face was so severe, so preoccupied that I knew at once that this case would be either a most intriguing story for my readers or one I never dared to retell.

Private Friends by orchid314 (rated Teen, 7K). John Watson tries to make sense of words and desire. Sometimes, he finds, that’s not such a simple task.

Intimations and The Taste of Love by nlr alicia (not rated, I would say Teen). The first is an epistolary chronicle from Lestrade’s point of view as he gradually grows to understand all that Holmes and Watson are to each other. The second is a series of epicurean vignettes that follow Holmes and Watson’s delight in more than one type of delicacy.

Sub Rosa by prof_pangaea (rated G, a story in images). “One of the most attractive things about the flowers is their beautiful reserve. The truly beautiful and noble puts its lover, as it were, at an infinite distance, while it attends him more strongly than ever.” – Henry David Thoreau. After Reichenbach Falls, Mycroft Holmes finds himself engaged in a singular telegram correspondence.

I believe you already read all of A_Candle_For_Sherlock’s stories, which I wholeheartedly recommend, and I also second the recommendation of Garonne’s works (I’m especially fond of The Incident with the Bicycle). Other excellent ACD writers who have a large catalogue to explore include sanspatronymic, spacemutineer, flawedamythyst, methylviolet10b, and mistyzeo.

And I’ll throw in a self-rec here at the end, too: you might like my WWI epistolary fic, Rewriting History (rated Teen, 10K). A correspondence between Holmes and Watson in the immediate aftermath of the Great War in which they discuss questions of history both public and personal.

Also, speaking of WWI, I haven’t had a chance to read this one yet, but I am sure that the writing and history will be marvelous, given that it’s written by OldShrewsburyian: The Craven Hive (rated Teen, 35K). In the last days of the First World War, Dr. Watson returns from the service for which he departed in “His Last Bow,” and looks for a new kind of work. He joins Dr. Arthur Hurst in his pioneering treatment of shell-shocked soldiers. But their work on the forefront of medical research, locked in battle against the destruction of the war, is disrupted by violent death. In addition to the obvious danger near at hand, there is the risk that this will discredit Hurst’s unusual methods. Dr. Watson does the only thing he can do: he calls in Holmes. The case will require their joint expertise, and all the wisdom of their shared experience.