#stop bastardizing día de los muertos

[damconcha]

now that it’s that time of the year again, white people fuck off and leave día de los muertos alone

[onbearfeet]

March Patreon Flash Story!

This month's story is a quick one based on a prompt I found while googling desperately: "The funeral was at noon." I hadn't planned on having anyone attend any funerals, but Maggie has her reasons, and I suddenly found myself wondering whatever happened to the Jimmy Olsens of my universe after the capes all disappeared.

Since I ended up not using the one prompt I got, I decided I'm entitled to post the story here without consulting anyone. MWAHAHAHA.

For more context on this 'verse, see my AO3 (onethingconstant) or the tag "Untitled Superhero Project" on this blog.

For the Living

The funeral was at noon, in a quiet little church in Indiana. There had been no announcement—well, no public announcement.

Snap Anderson had been old-school—the oldest school, he would have said. He’d been wearing Jetfighter’s signal watch since 1961, and even after the mirror-helmeted alien had gone down in flames in 1982, Snap had kept wearing the watch, deactivated and silent, as a memorial to his best friend. He’d been a lot of people’s best friend, actually—half of Vanguard’s ever-changing lineup had counted Snap as an ally or a sidekick at one point or another, and there were as many clips of Snap attending heroes’ funerals as there were of him saying outlandish things on talk shows.

Now, Snap’s own funeral had barely a dozen people huddled in the pews.

Maggie slipped in through the back of the church after the organ started up, feeling the tag on her stolen black dress itch between her shoulder blades. Coming here had been a risk, she knew; most of Snap’s social circle had vanished in white light three years ago, and she was in serious danger of standing out in a crowd that would surely all know whoever was left. Being the only likely attendee under fifty wouldn’t help, either.

But it had been on her way to New York, and she couldn’t resist.

She scurried down the aisle in her stolen kitten heels, trying to look like she’d been caught in midday traffic, and slid into the first open seat in the frontmost empty pew. Everyone was singing, droning along to a song she hadn’t heard growing up in St. Joseph’s, so she stared at the floor and mumbled watermelon watermelon watermelon until it was time to stop.

The eulogy was bland, from what she could tell, and seemed to have copied several sentences verbatim from Snap’s Wikipedia page. That didn’t stop the occasional sob or sniffle from the gathered mourners. She wasn’t sure they were listening either.

One of the nuns had told her once that funerals are for the living, not the dead. Maybe the words didn’t matter as long as someone said them. As long as someone said something.

She wondered whether anyone would say anything when she died. Probably not, except for whoever had to clean up the mess.

The eulogy ended, and the organ started up again, and as the creaky mourners levered themselves out of their pews for a final round of what sounded like “Oh God Triumphant And Invisible”, Maggie craned her neck and saw it.

Standing by the head of the casket, just for an instant, was a tall figure in black body armor, half-swathed in a long black cloak, with a gleaming white mask carved to look like a grinning skull. It wasn’t a friendly skull, or even a particularly scary one. Not a Día de los Muertos calavera or a grinning rubber Halloween mask from a party store. It looked like someone had simply taken an ordinary human skull off a pile of them somewhere, sliced off the front of it, and glued it to the front of an otherwise formless black void.

Got you, you bastard, Maggie snarled to herself. The obituary had said Snap had died a natural death, but she knew better now.

Skullfaced freak never could resist a good chance to gloat.

The figure vanished again before she could so much as twitch out of her seat, and no one else in the little congregation reacted, but that was all right. She knew what she’d seen.

When the service ended, she retrieved her pack from behind the dumpster where she’d stashed it and wrote another name in her notebook. The dress and shoes went into the trash, her jeans and sneakers went back on, and she was walking toward the bus station before Snap Anderson’s casket was back in the hearse.

[bestodictadora]

TMI: Rex

Hey there, this isn’t an ORV quote :(

La @mawumi me retó a hacer un análisis de ciertos puntos de uno de mis personajes, y como de la mayoría de ellos ya he publicado fichas con textos larguísimos escarbando en los más mínimos detallitos de su comportamiento, esta vez decidí (con ayuda de Lau, porque yo no sé elegir) tomar un personaje de mi novela en vez de uno de juegos de rol.

Rex, el verdugo de Heras en La Ira de los Héroes.

Junto con Rea y Gun, uno de los protagonistas de la historia (& PoV).

Desde luego, es un personaje que cambia mucho a medida que la historia avanza, por lo que haré el análisis tomando en cuenta solamente su forma de ser en la etapa inicial de la novela. 

Listas las introducciones, empiezo.

Rex es un bastardo. Literalmente. Bueno, también figurativamente. 

Un muchachito ciego que creció como un plebeyo y eventualmente descubrió que su padre era el mismísimo Emperador de Heras. Una criaturita nacida del barro al que un día le dijeron que tenía un núcleo de oro. 

Sin embargo, no es esa la razón por la que él es especial. 

En un mundo donde los dioses han muerto y la magia ha desaparecido, él nació con el don de ver y utilizar la energía del universo. Sus ojos, que no disciernen los objetos que tiene en frente, distinguen el poder de la vida y el alma de las personas. Y sus manos, callosas y raspadas como las de todo plebeyo, pueden tocar ese poder.

Por tanto, él no sólo es especial. Rex se siente especial.

Desde el inicio de su existencia, ese niño creció sintiéndose diferente y, eventualmente, superior al resto de las personas. Y entonces, se llamó a sí mismo dios en un mundo sin dioses.

“Don't fuck around, you're not a god.” 

Myrellia sounded tired, and Rex smirked, narrowing one eye. 

‘Of course not. I’m alive. Thus, I’m better.’

Aquel talento, así como la falta de padres que le enseñaran las reglas básicas de la sociedad durante la infancia, hicieron de él un adulto desvergonzado con delirios de grandeza que jamás pudo adaptarse del todo a las reglas de la sociedad, moviéndose bajo sus propias leyes sin respeto alguno bajo el estandarte del poder en bruto. 

Rex se reconoce a sí mismo como el ser más poderoso del mundo, alguien grandioso que sólo se halla entre meros mortales en un necesario camino para alcanzar su destino como dios. Por tanto, no respeta a nadie que no sea más fuerte que él.

“I am the rightful heir of the throne. And you, a bastard. So you are not allowed to talk to me like that.” [...]

“Gunan, is it? Ya’re wrong,” Rex continued, not giving him time to correct the name. “Crowns are trash. What really matters in this world is the power, ya see. But, well...” 

He chuckle. The Emperor frowned, but he couldn’t stop him in time. 

“Ya’re weak.”

Dicho esto, su percepción sobre sí mismo está distorsionada: cree que lo que lo hace superior a los demás es que puede hacer algo que nadie más puede, y que con eso puede vencer al resto del mundo, mas no reconoce como relevante cualquier don que diste de sus intereses. 

Puede que se encuentre con alguien con un gran talento para cantar, pero ya que a él no le interesa la música, le parecerá un talento inútil así eso ubique a dicha persona en un puesto superior al suyo en el ámbito de la música. Lo mismo sucede con la vista, o con el dinero: la ausencia de habilidades o facilidades que no le interesan ni le duelen, y hasta se mofa de ellas. En contraposición, se obsesiona con ser el mejor en todo lo que es bueno.

Porque es, efectivamente, arrogante. Pero necesita sostener esa arrogancia demostrándose una y otra vez que es grandioso. 

The greater the adversary, the more glorious his victory would be.

Es, pues, bastante autoexigente. Puede que no le importen las opiniones de los demás —pues para él sería como pedir la opinión de pulgas—, pero su propia percepción de sí mismo afecta enormemente a su comportamiento. Está acostumbrado a ser el mejor, y no quiere abandonar ni ceder el puesto. 

Lo que es más, jamás está del todo satisfecho: si alcanza la cima de una montaña, buscará escalar los cielos.

Es, a fin de cuentas, un niño de la calle. Aún con todo el poder del mundo, nunca terminará de sentirse satisfecho, ni seguro. 

Pues aún con poder, él también fue pequeño e insignificante alguna vez.

Y sabe, un dios como él jamás debería pasar por algo como eso.

h  i  s     w  e  a  k  n  e  s  s  e  s      a  n  d     s  t  r  e  n  g  t  h  s

En su cerrada arrogancia y obsesiva búsqueda del poder absoluto, Rex es una persona ignorante. No puede concebir el hecho de que no es perfecto, que no es tan grandioso como cree que es, porque en su cabeza, todo lo que no hace no vale la pena, y por tanto no es un requisito de la verdadera perfección. 

Pese a su carácter libertino y salvaje, es bastante cerrado de mente. No tiende a discutir las cosas porque en su cabeza no vale la pena esforzarse en instruir a los seres inferiores —ya que la ignorancia y percepción equivocada de la realidad es una de las cosas que los hacen inferiores—, demasiado tozudos como para entenderle. Pero al final del día, él es igual, y es porque él es así que asume que el resto lo será.

Es práctico con lo que le interesa, obstinado con lo que le importa, e indiferente con todo lo demás.

Tiende a darle mucha importancia a las primeras impresiones, y sobreestimar o subestimar a las personas dependiendo de las mismas. 

It was a disappointment: he really believed that this time he would find a worthy adversary. 

But there he was, dead, now an inert mass imperceptible to him, who could only see life. The smile slowly faded from his face, until he finally clicked his tongue and kicked the corpse. 

‘They told me ya were stronger, Yarjan Huke.’ Pathetic.

Es un maldito, demasiado metido en sí mismo como para pensar un poco de más en el resto, y aunque se le da excelentemente evaluar sus habilidades, debilidades y potencial —dentro de su ámbito, que es la batalla—, carece totalmente de habilidades para conectar emocionalmente con ellos. No le interesan como personas, sino como peldaños en su escalera hacia la gloria. No entiende los sentimientos, propios ni ajenos, y no tiene ningún aliado porque cree que no los necesita ni logra establecer lazos con ellos.

Entonces, toma decisiones estúpidas.

Todo su comportamiento depende del gran pilar que es su exageradamente inflado ego, y bien sabemos que ese no es un soporte muy estable, así deba romperse y reconstruirse si se quiere que progrese como persona. 

Sin embargo, ese ego no es infundado.

Rex es, efectivamente, grandioso. Al menos, en su ámbito. Y aunque nació bendecido con buena suerte y un poder único, también nació maldecido con enormes limitaciones físicas y sociales. Sin embargo, se las arregló para salir adelante y escalar estando solo porque el ego no es todo lo que lo define. Me atrevería a decir que esa arrogancia es una herramienta más para su objetivo inicial: la supervivencia.

Él piensa que aquellos que no se sienten ganadores jamás lo serán.

Y para sentirse ganador hay que saber las razones: él las sabe muy bien porque ha ido construyéndolas. Porque así sea talentoso, nunca deja de moverse y esforzarse, con un ansia inhumana de mejora. Es autocrítico. Se alaba cuando hace las cosas bien, pero si comete un error se obsesiona con éste hasta solucionarlo. 

Tras años de esfuerzo, ha hecho de sus debilidades parte de sus fortalezas.

Conoce perfectamente sus capacidades y sus límites, así que pese a ser un bruto y elegir impulsivamente objetivos peligrosos, es cuidadoso al elegir los caminos que utilizará. 

Pues si su mundo gira alrededor de sí mismo, entonces deberá conocer ese mundo a la perfección.

h  i  s     l  i  k  e  s

Lamentablemente a Rex no le interesan las personas, ni conecta con ellas. Es hetero, y sexualmente activo, pero para él es muy difícil desarrollar sentimientos por la gente. Ni siquiera puede establecer amistades apropiadamente, mucho menos amor. 

Él es frívolo. Y aunque hay tipos de persona que le resultan simpáticas, no les toma importancia real. Le agrada la gente sencilla y tonta. La gente chistosa, o que le tienen miedo pero tratan de disimularlo —porque eso los hace luchadores a su modo—, y en general cualquier forma de vida que considere fuerte de una manera u otra. Pero eso es sólo una impresión fugaz.

No es que sea imposible, pero sí es muy difícil, y para que algo llegue a desarrollarse primero él debe empezar a ver el mundo con otros ojos. Y evidentemente, no es algo que sucederá por conocer a alguien más que lo evangelice: él es el tipo de persona que sólo aceptará las ideas que discierna por sí mismo.

Probablemente la mejor manera de conectar con él en su estado inicial de personalidad sea la competitividad. Alguien a quien reconozca como rival bien podría, al menos, ocupar un lugar en su cabeza. Pero entonces tendrá interés en sus habilidades, no en la persona en sí ni sus sentimientos.

Por tanto, nada bueno puede salir de una relación con él hasta que crezca.

m  y     o  p  i  n  i  o  n

La verdad, le tengo mucho cariño al bebé. Es un personaje sumamente imperfecto que ni siquiera sabe que lo es, y por eso me gusta mucho escribirlo y releerlo, para comparar después cómo ha ido progresando. Porque, bueno, me gusta leer el camino de discernimiento en personajes que estaban demasiado metidos en su mundo al principio, y desde luego, escribirlo es igual de divertido.

ADEMÁS está todo meco. Es bastante divertido escribirlo, porque me encanta describir sus acciones insensatas bajo su razonamiento, así como si el narrador compartiera sus absurdas opiniones del mundo y fuera lo más lógico del universo. 

El dude va y se carga a medio mundo, le vale el orden social y todo lo que vaya más allá de la arena de batalla y sus sueños de grandeza. Entonces, aunque sea bonito verlo progresar como persona, él en sus etapas iniciales me gusta mucho, aunque sea un bastardo. Porque es un bastardo divertido.

Como un nene chiquito y un adulto genial al mismo tiempo.

[starberry-cupcake]

Let’s talk about Disney’s live action remakes.

The reason why I get so mad at people citing “copyright issues” as why these movies are made isn’t just that it’s absolutely nonsensical and untrue but, mainly, that this stance of “it’s just for copyright” erases the responsibility of people who go watch these things, one after the other, during opening week if possible.

Iger’s entire CEO run so far has been focused on acquiring IPs and extending them, whether it’s on movie franchises, series or in the parks. This can be seen in everything, from overlays in the parks to the merchandise like the whole line of exact same Minnie ears with different instagram-sounding colors (Rose Gold, Potion Purple, Briar Rose, Cherry Blossom...).  

In Disney Animation, the change was gradual. 

The first instance was making Lasseter head director of BOTH Pixar and Disney Animation, something that happened after Iger purchased Pixar as a response to the conflict Disney and Pixar had during the late Eisner era. This placement of Lasseter started a “pixarization” of DA, especially considering that Pixar was doing well with their movies while Disney Animation was going through a tough period. 

Pixar was born with the overall idea of being “anti-Disney”, a boys club group  that wanted to make movies like the ones they saw growing up, so no musicals, almost no female leads, and trying to subvert (and sometimes mock) the most famous Disney tropes. An obvious exception was Brave, because it was created, written and initially directed by Brenda Chapman, until they took her out of her own project and gave it to men. 

Not all Pixar movies are the same, I’m not coming for the entirety of Pixar, but the vast majority of the projects, especially the earliest ones, were drenched in this idea of not only being different from what Disney Animation was known for, but also having a lack of representation that has been criticized by people working there, including those who abandoned projects because of said issues, even before the Lasseter mess. 

So, Disney Animation movies, although with some good solid releases, started including mockery to its own legacy, in a way that sometimes seemed a bit excessive. You needed princesses saying “I’m not a princess” or “I’m not going to sing” or “you can’t fall in love with the first guy you meet” even though then they do exactly that but with a different guy...you get my point.

This was also the beginning of considering theatrically released sequels, something Pixar was never shy to do (Toy Story 2 came out in the 90s even) but Disney Animation had never really done that, aside from isolated cases like The Rescuers Down Under (sequels tended to be for tv or home video release). It had been a preferred method, since Walt’s time, to keep moving forward and keep pushing the envelope instead of settling with their theatrically released feature length films, in comparison to shorts, cartoons or series meant for tv.

The idea for theatrically released sequels, though, was something other studios did indiscriminately, and whether the movies resulting on that were good, bad or terrible, the truth was that they made money.

As the measure for success in US cinema started to be circumscribed to how many millions a movie could make in the domestic box office during its first week, the profit started to be more focused on things that were immediately recognizable rather than new and original.

Going to see a movie you have no idea about isn’t as comfortable an investment as going to see something you recognize and know for sure you’re at least interested in. So, basically, movies like Ice Age 3 and Minions were making more money in the first week than movies like Big Hero 6 or Moana.

And, with that, let me bring back the subject of audiences’ responsibility.

A good portion of the internet at large, even more so tumblr, demands constantly for animation and specifically Disney to hold more representation in their movies. Then, when push comes to shove, they don’t support those films as much as they claim they would.

There is a double edge discourse with them, because when a movie with some form of representation happens, they’re held to a higher standard and when something doesn’t feel good enough, internet culture “cancels” it without giving them a chance. But when the movies don’t even try, there’s nothing much to dissect, so they get a pass (something that happens with all of media and not just movies).

So, when you look at US box office numbers, movies like Toy Story 3, Frozen and Incredibles (1 or 2) against Moana, Big Hero 6 and Coco (it’s important to note that these last 3 did better internationally than in the US but who cares about us, right?), the numbers aren’t supporting the demand, and most of those movies with representation had controversies regarding that BEFORE they were released, which affected the initial box office performance (sometimes warranted controversies, like the whole Día de los Muertos copyright issue, and sometimes completely unwarranted, like that “it was a rip off of The Book Of Life” which Disney had “previously rejected”, false accusations that were perpetually denied by the directors of both films, who were always in contact with each other and supported each other’s movies, but which caused massive online campaigns to boycott Coco before it was released). 

So, with all this in mind, what better way to gain easy and safe box office numbers with not much conceptual work and get people in theaters in the first week? Bringing back already established successes.  

Enter the live action remakes.

We could also dissect how Marvel and Star Wars play the same exact role but taking different approaches and having had different methods of establishing themselves with audiences, but that’s another couple of cans of worms I’m not willing to open here.

The live action remakes are, in essence, the easiest of the bunch to create. Differently from the animated sequels, the Marvel films and the Star Wars films, they don’t require new ideas for the core plot of the story. They change a few things here and there, some take more liberties, some less, but overall they can’t really change the story all that much without turning them unrecognizable.

Still, all of these remakes have specific pointers that assure good marketing for the first week of release: the use of a highly popular Disney film, the casting of very well-known actors whose ability to fulfill the actual needs of the role isn’t as important as how big their names are, initial teaser trailers that make it seem exactly like the original or, at least, use the same songs or similar shots, the use of increasingly newer movies as a base, employing very iconic and famous directors or songwriters...you get the point.

And, you know what? they pay off.

Live action Beauty & the Beast, despite receiving mixed reviews from fans, became in just one week and a half “the biggest live-action musical ever in domestic and worldwide grosses, not accounting for inflation”. People complained about it, yes, but that was after paying money to see it as soon as possible. 

So basically, what I’m saying is, don’t act surprised about this. Don’t blame copyright and Disney and CEOs being cheap greedy bastards if you’re gonna go pay for these films opening day, however the cost. Because we’re all responsible for that as well, we all choose what to put our money on and which things to support. 

The next time you talk about copyright, make sure you don’t already have your ticket for opening week, that’s all I’m saying. If you want them to stop happening, stop going to see them. 

[wilvinalesch]

Chapter Two Confession

Ernesto looks around shifting through his thoughts remembering when he got the idea of poisoning Hector. "I was jealous Hector."

Hector sighed. "What for? You were always the more handsome one."

"It wasn't that Hector."

"What was it then?"

"It was love! You had a wife that loved you and an adorable daughter."

"You were like an uncle to Coco," Hector and Ernesto could almost hear on the wind the voice of a small girl giggling.

"Tío Ernesto! Tío Ernesto!"

"She loved you, and Tamale." Hector chuckled reminding himself of the first time Ernesto brough Tamale his little long hair chihuahua to see Coco, Coco was used to Pepita and Hector's Xolo dog named Che. Coco and Tamale got along well. Tamale, Che, and Coco fell alseep in a pile while Imelda and the two men watched amused by them.

Hector and Ernesto sighed happily at the memory.

Before touring Mexico

Before homesickness

Before the poisoning

Times were much more simple and carefree.

"Amigo, I wasn't thinking that night." Ernesto said. "Well I was... about myself. I thought that if you stopped touring I would fail as a musician and when I saw you take your music book I panicked. I couldn't write songs... not songs like yours. So I had some rat poison on me... I slipped some of it in the tequila and when you drank." Ernesto got up and walked towards where Hector was sitting he could tell because of where Hector's voice was coming from, maybe if he got closer to him... he could explain it easier. There was no crowd to ruin his reputation, that had already happened, no crimes to cover up, all of them had been exposed, and he had no place to run leaving him here with Hector. "I came with you, then when you collapsed I cried out that you had collapsed unexpectedly." He looks down. "I have never felt so... horrible. I didn't like killing you I didn't get pleasure from it. I took the guitar and music and started playing I butchered your daughter's lullaby with my cheesy love ballad." He hugs his knees close to his ribcage "I lost myself Hector, I wasn't the Ernesto you grew up with."

The events from Días de los muertos started playing in his head again, how much time had passed between then, a day? Two? Three? Damn... he couldn't remember.

"Ernesto?" Hector asked him hearing sobbing coming from the other side of the bell.

"I'm just a gigantic bastard!" Ernesto had broken the dam in his body and started pouring out his guts to Hector. "I'm a fraud! Ernesto de La Cruz is a mask I wear deep down inside I'm just the same scared little boy who had to train dogs for dogfights." He sighs. "Your family treated me right..."

"We knew how they treated you amigo."

Ernesto let out a sniffle and looks down "Nobody will let me live here I'll get arrested or something." Ernesto sighed. "If only I didn't get that big of a head, I wish I didn't kill you I... I..." he looks down "I wish I didn't treat Miguel the way I did. I threw him and you in a sinkhole for the sake of my reputation, then karma comes in the shape of a jaguar and a bell." Ernesto looked around the bell "enough beating around the bush, Ernesto." He thought before looking towards Hector.

"I-I'm s-sorry." His voice wavered with tears. "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry for killing you I'm sorry for stealing your songs I'm sorry for ruining your life and Coco's I'm sorry for how I treated Miguel!" Tears rolled down his face his head started to ache from crying. "I don't care if I go to jail or stay in this bell just forgive me please Hector!"

Hector had tears in his eyes as well he whistled and loud footsteps appeared. Imelda had Pepita and Miguel had Dante but Hector had Che, a giant Xolo dog. The dog sat down infront of Hector.

"Che?" He asked the dog. "You see the bell?" He points towards it and the dog nods.

"Take it off of him."

The dog ripped the bell off and threw it as far as he could a loud splash was heard from across the way.

Hector helps Ernesto up and hugged him.

"I forgive you 'Nesto." Hector smiled.

Che looks at Ernesto and bows his head towards him.

Three chihuahuas jumped off his head and started yapping at Ernesto.

Ernesto scooped the three up and hugged them.

Hector chuckles. "After three days in that bell I bet you're pretty hungry?"

Ernesto nodded "A little bit."

"Come on let's go eat." He smiled leading them towards a bar.

This is the final part of the redemption fanfic, if you'd like more fanfictions tell me! 🙂

[trickstersantana]

Self Para: The Illusion of Home

Who: Santana Location: Room 207 at Sciron Square Time: 19:00, 6th February Summary: Santana get the response from the deal she did with Marley, having a little fake visit from the man she contacted with. Triggers/Notes: I wanted to try to write the conversations in spanish (that probably is too spain-spanish and not mexican-spanish >.<) and add a translation. To read just put the mouse above the words and the translation will appear. If it’s too confusing or uncomfortable to read please just tell me! This was kind of an experiment to see if it worked.

She tried not to run to arrive to her room as soon as she could, but she walked faster than usual. She felt like she did the deal with Marley so long ago. To send a letter, to him..She quickly opened the 207 door and even more quickly closed it. She breathed, walked some steps, and snapped her fingers. 

"Hola de nuevo, Niebla" a voice, talking in spanish, sounded behind her. She looked back to see him. Again. Finally. The most vile, dastardly, bastard and cabrón trickster in all his illusory glory. “Como siempre, un placer oír que anda haciendo mi hija falsa favorita” he said again and she had to remind herself that running to hug him was just absurd and pointless. He wasn’t really there, she knew he just make a deal with someone to talk to her, as she did with Marley, just to talk to him. It was like sending a video holographic letter, she could hear, and she could answer him back, but he wasn’t going to know what she answered. He wasn’t really here, she keep reminding herself. “Debo admitir que estoy realmente sorprendido de que de alguna forma hayas logrado no morirte tu sola ¡Felicidades!” he said and she sat at her bed, looking at him. His voice, his gestures, his mere presence was like he was really here. The only reason that she was certain that it was fake, apart from the loigic of how could he sneak inside campus, was the total lack of any distrust aura around him. She still remembered how she really felt with his ‘dad’ around, and this wasn’t it. And still it feel like the realest thing she was living right now.

Finally, after months.

Holy shit she missed him. 

 He wasn’t just a fake surrogate father figure, he was probably the person he has more in common in the world. She know she could talk about him about things she couldn’t tell to her friends, they wouldn’t get it.They weren’t trickster, and they weren’t horrible people like her and Federico. 

He laughed, and for a moment, Santana felt at home again. “Oh, Niebla, si que te echaba de menos, pero no me vengas con ‘Por qué no has contactado antes conmigo’ cuando tu tampoco lo hiciste hasta que necesitabas mi consejo por meterte en problemas” he complained “Que no sabias que se podian usar los tratos para ese... si era obvio.” he said, with that smug annoying smile of him. “No hace falta ser muy listo para pensarlo, y si no lo hiciste, no es mi problema”. He said with a shrug, and Santana just rolled her eyes. “Aparte, es demasiado trabajo tener que buscar a alguien para hacer un trato, la que he tenido que liar para responderte, porque claro, mi mejor amigo la Princesita Purpurina no era una opción.” He snapped his fingers, and pointed at her, like he suddenly remembered something, wich means he designed his illusion to do exactly that on purpose. “Por cierto, le dije que te habían matado”

“¿Qué?” she couldn’t avoid asking “¿Para qué?” What the hell was that.

“Bueno, Niebla, teniendo en cuenta que nuestro querido amigo te odia y te quiere muerta, me pareció lo más lógico decirle que ya estabas muerta. Por un lado, por seguridad” she would punch him right now if he were really here. How dare he think she need security...agaisnt fucking Rodrigo, she can totally destroy him without any problem “...y por otro, muchísimo más importante, porque si lo vuelves a ver la cara que va a poner va a ser algo digno de verse, y nunca sobran razones para reírnos del muy imbécil.” He said still smiling, and Santana had to agree with that. Oh my God, now she wanted to see that idiot so bad to ruin his day. “¿Dijo algo? ¿Sobre lo de que estaba muerta?” she asked, wondering, for some reason. As she fucking cared. The illusion of Federico answered, wich means he expected her to ask. “Dijo que era el cuarto mejor día de su vida, después del día que nació su hijo, su boda y del día en que muera yo. Que espera con ansias que pase, pero...” he shrug “Puede esperar sentado”. What a total douchebag, fucking Glitter Princess. “Pero vólvamos al tema importante, me vienes después de meses sin saber de ti a decirme que no te has metido en un lio con los cardines , sino en dos.” 'Three, actually' she though as he clapped, sarcastically, still smiling like this was a joke to him. And the worst part is that he wanted it to look like that. Oh man, I only needed 5 minutes with you to not miss you at all and remember what a shit you were. She though. “En fin, el primero, gente preguntando por mi por una lista de varios ‘supuestos’ ‘crimenes’ que hice, lo cual es completamente ridículo" He said as the mere though of it was absurd, with a straight face she knew he couldn't pull off in real life. "Sin embargo, si hay cosas que tu has hecho en esa lista. Como lo del barco, o lo del parque, o lo de la tienda de coches y aquella vez que montaste la de Dios en aquel hotel tan bonito al lado del río.” She rolled her eyes “¡Pero no murió nadie! Y más importante, no hubo ningún testigo... excepto nosotros.” And that us didn’t mean only them. He mean the ‘family’. She knew what it meant. So it was one of them. She wouldn’t call it ‘betraying their own family’ but more like ‘classic family move’. Federico continued. “Asi que si me estan echando el muerto a mi por cosas que tu has hecho y cosas que nadie más ha hecho es, probablemente, para ocultar algo que ellos si han hecho. Y cuando digo ellos quiero decir que Encanto lo hizo” 

Santana frowed “Podría haber sido...” “Venga ya, Niebla. Si solo puede ser alguien de la ‘familia’ y que casualmente va a por nosotros dos, quién va a ser si no?” “Podría ser cualquiera” She said, in denial. Of course it was going to be her. But she really wanted it to not be her. “De todas formas, no hay ninguna prueba, y solo testimonios de gente como nosotros, que valen verga. No digas nada incriminatorio y quédate calladita y ya esta” He said, like it was so easy for her to just do that. “Problema resuelto... si eres capaz de no fastidiarte a ti misma porque si” She breathe a little calm again, it was true that nothing really happened anymore... there was no prof, all of that happened a long time ago and nothing really happened... just, almost happened.  A lot of times, they always saved face and went without problem. That wasn’t the problem though. She looked at the illusion, waiting for the answer she really wanted to hear, but it never came. The topic was over for the illusion.

“Lo siguiente, no se que mierda me cuentas de puertas y que le borraron la memoria a unos amigos tuyos, pero o es una ilusión, o drogas, en cuyo caso deberías pasar del tema, o, es cierto, en cuyo caso te estarías metiendo en más problemas con lo cual deberías pasar del tema. No se ni para que me lo cuentas.” “¿En serio? ¿Eso es lo único que vas a decirme?” She complained, standing up, while the illusion just nodded. She groaned. This was so frustrating, he always have to make it so frustrating. ‘Ugh, why did I even tried to talk to you I just feel like a complete idiot’ “Por cierto, cuando diges ‘amigos’, ¿quieres decir amigos de verdad o gente a la que estas engañando para usarlas luego?” He asked her and she just took a pillow to throw at him. He catch it while laughing and just throw it to the floor. “>Venga, Niebla, si te conozco como si te hubiera parido. Y los demonios Si pueden tirar rayos por los ojos, ese shedim te esta mintiendo y si te miente sobre eso quién sabe sobre que más te está mintiendo” He said completelly serious while Santana just rolled her eyes wanting to punch something. “También me encanta la anécdota de ‘Me hice amiga de un demonio pero dejo de hablarme porque era incluso más maligna que él’. Típicas historias que solo te pasan a ti.” “Oye, eso no es justo, ¡cualquiera es más maligno que él! No has pillado para nada el verdadero significado de esa historia y no se ni por qué narices te lo dije y ahora estoy gritando sola en mi habitación! UGH” She screamed while walking in circles around her room. Federico just took a cup of coffee for somewhere and keep laughing.

Then he stopped laughing. “Bueno, sobre los demás... o que nos pasó a nosotros cuando te fuiste” She stopped to look at him.

“Digamos que cada uno se fue por su camino” He just said. Well. At least they were all alive, right? “No he tenido mucho contacto con ninguno de ellos en meses” She felt like something just broke. Some hopes she had of returning home with everyone, to go to roadtrips together again, to have some place to go after NYADA.  “Oh” She imagined the reason why, but Federico told her anyway: “Y, antes de que te culpes a ti misma, déjame decirte que efectivamente fue culpa tuya” “Vaya, gracias. Ni se me había ocurrido”  “De nada. Pero vamos, eres la más joven de nosotros y la única que han tenido que encerrar, encima por una estupidez. Si te cazan a ti haces más fácil que cazen al resto, y ya volviste el lugar mucho menos seguro para nosotros. Así que, por supuesto lo más lógico era separarnos” He said it as it that wasn’t exactly his idea to slip. She really wanted to argue with him, to argue it wasn’t her fault. It was Darling, she shouldn’t have... took her, that time, ‘she should had just leave me there if she didn’t want any trouble’, but saying ‘it’s you guys fault for saving my life and adopting me’ wasn’t really a good argument on her part. She knew it anyway, she just didn’t want to think about it. She bit her lip trying not to cry in front of him. ‘Ugh, who cares, he is not really here to see it. He wouldn’t know anyway’ She though. ‘What an idiot, you knew all of this’ 

There was a moment of silence, and he just stood there, looking worried.  “Eso dijeron los otros, al menos” He continued, as she already figured. “Aparte de contarme un resumen de tu vida, al final de la ilusión venía un abrazo incluido y todo, ¿tanto me echas de menos?” He said, opening his arms for a hug, and she went to hug him back. His illusions were always too realistic. “Buscáme cuando consigas estar de vuelta en el programa ese, estaré por Nueva York”

“¿Qué?” She asked pulling away from the hug. He just shrug and pat her head.  “¿Creíste que te iba a dejar tirada solo porque los demás se fueron?” This time she couldn’t stop the tears, or her smile. She knew that whatever she was, whatever she did, he was always going to be there for her, even when he wasn’t exactly the best person or company. But she wasn’t either. “Volveremos a vernos. Y la próxima vez de verdad” He said, and just vanished. 

It felt too short of a message. And suddenly her room seems too big, too broken and too dark.

She was sad, confused, crying, and alone with that little bit of hope that never dissapeared completelly, agonizing to keep going.

And for a moment, it felt like home again.