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wardenparker · 3 months ago

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Bones Full of Words, ch 6

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia (sometimes internalized and sometimes not), canon typical violence* Fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues. Flirting and talk of sex. We are starting to pine! Summary: Spending more time around Javi is as awkward as it is anything else, but spending some time with the girls has you approaching the situation a little differently after weeks of uncertainty. Notes: Introducing Elisa! Inner conflict, forced proximity, and a little soul searching are the name of the game.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5

Days tick by until it becomes weeks, and every apartment you look at is deemed either unsafe or unfit or otherwise unacceptable. The rent is too high or it doesn’t come furnished, or they don’t allow dogs. Señora Perrín had told you Chi-Chi couldn’t come to her son’s house because she generally hated men, and had said you should either keep her or bring her to a shelter.

It broke your heart that she could just give the precious guard dog up so easily and you’d been next to tears cuddling Chi-Chi on the living room floor when Javier came home from a stakeout. There was no discussion about it. Javier had just given the dog a half smile and said it was a damn good thing she liked him, because she was already settled.

On this particular morning you’re up before Javier which is incredible in and of itself. Sitting at the table with the local paper circling newspaper ads for apartments you haven’t already seen feels futile, but you have to keep trying.

Javi rolls his shoulders as he shuffles into the kitchen. He had been needing to start the coffee pot, but you’re already there, the pot full except for the cup at your elbow. “Morning.” He grunts, walking by the table and snatching up your already lit cigarette for a quick drag. You smoke the same ones he does and he’s never been shy about sharing a cigarette. “Fuck.” He groans, feeling the nicotine flooding his system. “Ran out last night.” He explains. You’re looking in the paper again and he almost asks why when it’s obvious you are settled here, but he doesn’t. You might want your own space and he doesn’t feel like it’s his place to press. You might share marks and have managed to be somewhat friendly to each other, but it hasn’t gone beyond that.

“Morning.” The ritual is usually the opposite, but he seems to adjust alright today. And today, like every other, you drag your eyes away from the sliver of tanned skin that shows at his waistline when he reaches up for a mug or to scratch the back of his neck like he does when he’s tired. “You wanna take the rest of my pack to work? I can pick more up from that corner store that stocks American while I’m apartment hunting.”

“I’ll stop on the way.” He shakes his head, pouring himself a cup of coffee and taking that first blessed sip, “Fuuuuuuuck.” He groans again in appreciation. “I don’t know how, but your coffee is always so good.”

“I refuse to give up my secret.” The pinch of cinnamon you add to the coffee grounds whenever you make a pot has turned out to be his unexpected favorite. It warms you deep in your chest with something you can’t name, but you always smile at the compliment. “There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want breakfast.” He rarely sticks around long enough in the mornings to eat anything freshly cooked, but at least he’s eating something.

“I don’t have time.” He admits. “Fucking overslept as it is.” He’s been pulling a lot of late nights, but he’s still been insisting on going in on time. Pablo getting fucking elected to office has lit a fire under his ass to prove the bastard is dirty.

It would be domestic — mothering, even — to suggest he take something with him so you swallow it off of the tip of your tongue. “Take my cigarettes, then,” you insist, putting the pack in his hand. Instead you offer something far less invasive. “Don’t waste the time stopping. I got my column in yesterday so I’m free as a bird to get more today.”

“Thanks.” He shoots you a grateful smile and nods as he takes another sip of the coffee before he checks his watch. “Shit.” He gulps down another mouthful and dumps the cup in the sink. “I’ll take care of that when I get home.” He’s noticed you’ve cleaned up when he’s too busy and he doesn’t want you to think you need to do that. “I’ve gotta go.”

“See you later.” Maybe tonight. Maybe not. Sometimes he runs into the apartment for something and then goes out again and you don’t see him until the next day. He doesn’t ever stop working, night and day.

He grabs his keys. “See you.” He manages before the phone in his pocket starts ringing. “Shit. Peña. Yeah, yeah I’m on my way.” He grunts as he closes the door and jogs down the hall towards the front of the building.

"Well girl..." Your eyes slide to the dog as she watches Javier leave, whining mournfully in her well-claimed spot on the living room rug. "Looks like it's just you and me again today. You wanna stretch out on my lap while I call landlords?"

******

The morning goes surprisingly well and there’s even time to meet Connie and one of her work friends for lunch at Steve’s insistence. “We could be working.” Javi grumbles as he lights up the last cigarette from the pack you had given him.

“It wouldn’t kill you to socialize once in a while,” Steve reminds him, nudging him toward whatever little place Connie and her friend had deemed appropriate for lunch.

“I socialize.” Javi snorts, even though he’s not once been to see the girls since you’ve unexpectedly moved in. It’s been limited to his hand in the shower every fucking night.

“When?” Steve grins, infinitely amused. “When you’re grumbling at paperwork in the office? When you’re sleeping? Are you even going to that brothel anymore? You don’t even leave the office at lunch like you used to.” He used to go to see the working girls on lunch break or after work. He knows it — they pretty much all unofficially know it. But not lately. He just doesn’t know what’s changed.

“Why are you so goddamn interested in where I stick my dick?” Javi cuts his eyes over at his partner before he yanks the door open and walks into the little restaurant. It’s annoying that Steve has clocked his habits and even more annoying that he’s noticed the change. He hasn’t told Steve about you. Neither you being his soulmate or living with him temporarily.

“Because you’re fuckin cranky when you don’t get any,” Steve mutters at his back, letting Peña bust past him into the place while he trails behind and snickers.

He rolls his eyes and pulls a chair out at a table. “You’re entirely too fucking cheerful.” He grumbles, wishing he had just told Steve he was working through lunch. He’s exhausted and honestly needs a day off.

“Just needed a little sunshine in my day,” the other man announces, beaming when he sees his own soulmate and wife walk through the door.

“Sunshine.” He huffs, crushing out a cigarette but immediately perking up when a very attractive brunette comes in behind Connie. Obviously an extra and Javi decides that a little flirting is exactly what he needs.

"Hey!" Connie Murphy comes breezing in with a smile on her face and a kiss for her husband. "Sorry I'm late, honey."

"Hey." Steve accepts the gesture of affection readily, taking both of her cheeks in his hands and pressing his lips to hers with a happy hum.

"Javier." When Connie stands up again at the table, she gestures to the brunette who came in in back of her. "This is my friend Elisa." To her friend, she explains: "Javier works with Steve."

Javi gets out of his chair and shakes her hand, enjoying how soft and warm it is. She's got a nice set of tits, and he's not feeling guilty about looking after he had that conversation with you. "Nice to meet you." He greets her and pulls out her chair for her as they both sit down.

"Are you another...janitor at the embassy? Like Steve?" Elisa asks, smirking slightly because that seems to be such a lame excuse.

"No, actually I'm CIA." Javi lies with a straight face. He glances at Steve. "But that's classified, so don't tell anybody."

The Murphys exchange expressions of raised eyebrows with each other and then with Javi, as if to tell him to cool it with the sarcasm. Somebody can and will overhear him and take him seriously.

Javi continues on. “I’m here to hunt communists and prevent the Marxist invasion from Cuba.” He’s lit another cigarette and holds it in his hand. “The janitor thing, that was you?” He asks Steve, who hums unhappily as Javi continues to talk. “No, that’s just a cover.” He tells her, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Elisa laughs, slightly unsure but willing to bet he's nearly telling the truth and that he's doing it in spite of the Murphys. She likes Connie, but the American woman is a little too earnest for her own good. "Thank you for being so honest," she says to Javier instead, and picks up on the overt honesty played like a lie tempo at the table. "Just so you know," she adds playfully. "I'm a communist guerrilla."

Javi laughs, along with Connie, and Steve gives a halfhearted smile. “Perfect.” Javi tells her with a wink.

"Yeah," Steve huffs, looking between the other two at the table before bringing his eyes back to his wife and nearly shrugging. It's obvious Elisa and Javi are on some kind of wavelength that he and Connie are not. "Perfect." He says the word but huffs it doubtfully.

Javi smirks at his partner, picking up on his mood but he doesn’t pay it any attention. “Tell me, how did you just start working at the clinic?” Javier asks Elise, as he looks over the menu. Catching sight of a meal that he thinks you would like since you like those falafel things and hating that he’s thinking about you right now.

"Everyone needs a job, don't they?" Elisa poses, acting like the answer doesn't quite matter when it truly doesn't. Not really anyway. Her work as a nurse is not the work she will be known for.

“That’s right.” Javi blows a ring of smoke up into the air and grins a Connie. He likes Murphy’s wife and it’s obvious that she’s the one that is the more outgoing of the two of them.

“So,” Connie poses, trying to brighten the mood at the table. “Lunch?”

“That sounds good.” Javi glances at the menu again and smirks at his partner. “Need some help?” He asks, knowing Steve’s reading comprehension of Spanish is worse than his speaking abilities.

“Shut up, Peña.” Steve mutters, grateful when Connie leans in to help him instead. His grasp of Spanish is growing, but at a snail’s pace.

Javi snickers quietly, feeling a little better after giving him some shit back after having to listen to Steve bring up soulmates every chance he gets. Thank god he hadn’t told him who his soulmate is, or that you are staying with him right now.

Connie ends up ordering for Steve despite his semi-valiant attempts at pronouncing the menu items, and the amusement at the table lifts the mood considerably. It’s not often any of them get to laugh anymore, and even a moment of it seems to relax everyone considerably.

“It’s good that you can meet us for lunch.” Javi tells them as they finish their sodas and wait for refills.

"I've got to see my soulmate sometimes," Connie teases lightly, leaning into Steve's side. "Dinners aren't a sure thing, so lunch seemed like the best time."

“And that means I get to eat.” Steve huffs, cutting his eyes back at Javi. His partner has a habit of living off coffee and cigarettes.

"Do you not eat?" Elisa asks Javier, curious that he seems to be getting the ire of his friends.

“Too busy working.” Javi shrugs one shoulder. “We grab something if there’s time.”

"Food is one of life's few pleasures." she returns, although she can think of quite a few other pleasures this man might be fun to indulge in with. "Pleasures are few and far between."

Javi takes another drag off his cigarette and grins at Elisa. “You’re right.” He admits.

"So why deny yourself?" She asks, nodding toward the direction their server is approaching from.

“Why indeed?” Javi thinks about you for a moment, before he pushes that out of his mind. You don’t want to do anything about your status so he shouldn’t worry about it.

"Yeah." Steve looks between the two of them with absolute incredulousness. "Why?" He really feels like he should be a reason but Javi won't say a goddamn word about his soulmate so he can't say too much.

Javi rolls his eyes and leans back as the server sets the meal down in front of you. “Hurry up.” He tells his partner. “We have to go meet Carillo after this.”

"Right." Steve snorts, ready to dig into his lunch right away. "No rest for the wicked."

“Never is.” Javi snorts and wishes he had a beer, or a glass of whiskey. When he left the apartment, you had still been asleep. He wonders what you are up to.

"Are you particularly wicked?" Elisa asks, partially for herself and partially because it amuses her to scandalize Connie with that type of question.

“Some might think so.” He admits, thinking about the question from an outsider’s point of view. “I’m flawed, but at the base of my life, I want to do good.”

That seems to surprise the other Americans at the table, but the Murphys choose not to tease – instead settling into their meal and deciding that a small amount of talk amongst themselves is more polite. Javier and Elisa seem to have slipped into a private conversation at the drop of a hat.

"Is that what you're doing?" She asks, picking up her fork and tilting her head toward the man beside her. Elisa didn't come here to flirt, but the man she has been introduced to is interesting and it won't be the worst thing in the world to chat him up for a half hour or more. "Doing good?"

“Some days it doesn’t seem that way.” Javi admits, eating his own food without really paying attention to it. “Not like health care.” More of what he does is unhealth care.

"Health care is...different than people expect it to be." Elisa tells him honestly. Not to mention that that is not the focus of her life. It was once, but not now. "Sometimes you wonder if you have done any good at all."

“I feel the same way.” He agrees, wondering if it’s that way everywhere, with any job. Maybe his pop was right and growing things was the answer all along.

"Maybe that's part of being human?" She wonders aloud, unconsciously echoing his thoughts.

“Who knew you could get philosophical over lunch?” Javi snorts, although he had actually excelled in philosophy in college.

She smiles, admittedly charmed, and she will have to confess later that Connie was right to warn her about her husband's partner. "I would have looked forward to this lunch even more if I had known."

He smirks slightly and glances over at the server as they refill his drink. Nodding his thanks before he looks back at her. “Well, now you can look forward to the next one.”

“I definitely will.” Elisa agrees, and the smile on her lips promises that she hopes to be looking forward to much more than that.

******

When a familiar car pulls up down the block, Freckles is the one that recognizes it. “Holy shit.” She huffs, turning towards the room where Helena and Vanessa are lounging. Helena hasn’t been taking clients, but she had been here to pack. Gathering all the things that she wanted and giving away the things she didn’t. “She’s here.”

“Who?” Helena asks, her attention to focused on carefully braiding Vanessa’s wet hair to achieve some natural waves after it dries. A new style she wanted to try.

She says your name, lifting a brow as she looks at the other two women. “I wonder if she’s just here for a follow up interview for an article.”

“Can’t be for us…” Helena’s head pops up immediately. She knows that you are their friend, but it would be a simple enough thing to see them outside of a professional setting if you just wanted to spend time with friends. “Can it?”

“I don’t know.” Vanessa frowns slightly. “She wasn’t happy with us knowing about her and Javier. She didn’t say it, but she wasn’t.”

“You think she came because she’s mad at us?” Freckles asks, frowning at the thought.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think she will yell at us, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The other woman shrugs. “Maybe she’s tired of Javi.” She snorts. “She does like eating pussy.”

“You think they’re fucking already?” Helena asks, frowning doubtfully. “They seemed…at odds with each other.”

“I didn’t mean they were fucking.” She corrects. “Just tired of him. Isn’t she staying with him since her apartment was raided?”

“Yeah.” Helena nods, shifting up from the couch to peak through the window. You’re just out of sight so you must be on your way in. “With the sweetest dog.”

“Javier has a dog in his apartment?” Freckles finds that hilarious and throws her head back laughing. “How domestic.”

“You know the guard dog?” Helena and Vanessa laugh along with her. They have, at various points now, all been to your apartment. “The sweet girl who sits at the top of the stairs? She is with them now.”

“But doesn’t she hate men?” Her eyes widen for a moment before she giggles again. “I can’t see Javi sneaking around his own apartment.”

“I can’t imagine he’s hiding from both of them.” Freckles shrugs. “Maybe that’s why she’s here. Like you said.”

"We will see." Helena knows that even if you are upset, you wouldn't take it out on them. You weren't that way, more of a defender than an abuser.

The knock on the door comes a moment later, but the door doesn’t open immediately. Unlike other clients, you have always been respectful of their privacy.

Freckles wanders over to the door and opens it, smiling brightly when she sees you and pulls you in for a hug. "It is good to see you!"

You came here with a purpose. You did. But seeing the three of them together — stunning women who know you far too well — seems to spook you out of your resolve. “H—hi,” you murmur instead, kissing her cheek and giving her a gentle squeeze back. Not too tight. Not too close.

"Come in." She offers immediately, stepping back and opening the door wider. "Unless you are here to just see one of us?" She asks curiously, wondering if it is simply the business of pleasure that brings you here.

“I wasn't sure who would be here.” It feels like more of a confession than you meant it to, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

“Okay.” Freckles glances over at the other two. “We can leave if you want to talk to Helena?” She offers.

"No–no, I..." You deflate a little, realizing that you're far less sure of this plan than you thought you were while driving here. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have come."

Vanessa frowns and shakes her head even though Helena is still working on it. “Don’t be silly.” She chides. “You are always welcomed here.”

"I don't want to intrude." Also, you somehow forgot about the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, which has your own reflection staring back at you in ways you would rather avoid.

“Why would you be intruding?” For a moment, Freckles wants to ask if you were checking to see if Javier is here, or has been here, but she doesn’t. You do seem upset, but not at them.

"I don't know." And that is all the more confusing, which brings you from flustered and embarrassed to emotional all at once. A single chin wobble feels like six with the hyperaware state you're in right now and you look around at three pairs of beautiful eyes that only make you feel all the more ridiculous. "I'm sorry, I...I'm not feeling well, I guess." You turn to go, ready to haul ass and hide yourself in Chi-Chi's fur and try to blot out the world, but Helena has gotten up to block the way in a flash.

“Stay.” She urges you, reaching out and taking your shoulders in her hands to physically turn you back towards the room. “Please.”

"I haven't...been myself lately," you admit, looking around at the three of them again.

“Because of what we told you?” Helena frowns, feeling guilty as she guides you over to the bed.

"Not...directly?" She has you sit down, and the other two girls come to sit on the bed with you, gathered around you as if you were all simply here to gossip instead of you having found yourself in the middle of an existential crisis. "It's a long story."

“If you don’t want to talk…” Vanessa senses that you are pent up and she puts her hand on your thigh. “We can always find other ways to entertain ourselves until you do want to talk.”

“I’m not going to make you do that anymore.” The realization, swift and certain, makes you swallow the lump you hadn’t sensed forming in your throat. Coming here may have been a very bad idea, actually… “I—I mean…I thought that’s what I wanted. And why I came. But I don’t think so anymore.”

Helena reaches out and touches your cheek gently. “Javier?” She asks softly, aware that you might be feeling guilty. “He hasn’t come to see us either. If that’s what you want to know.”

"It doesn't have anything to do with Javier." As soon as it's out of your mouth – defensive and swift – you flinch and shake your head. "It doesn't have to do with him being...what he is to me, I mean."

“Oh.” The girls exchange looks but don’t say anything. There’s obviously something wrong, but they won’t push you if you don’t want to talk. They just wait.

It all comes pouring out in the face of their solid sympathy. The fights you and Javier had in the beginning, everything Alex said. The way every passing week that you live with Javier has you convinced that the universe must have been wrong. That you have stopped being able to even glance past a mirror on any sort of daily basis for fear of what you will find staring back at you. "I thought I was just lonely," you admit, under the gaze of three sets of worried eyes. "I thought I just needed to find some company to feel better again. But I walked through your door and just felt like I would be demeaning any of you by asking you to take me to bed."

Helena frowns and Vanessa and Freckles shake their heads in disagreement. “Do you think that we just fuck you because you pay us?” Freckles asks, folding her arms over her chest. “Because we don’t. We enjoy our time with you. In and out of bed.”

"I'm not thinking straight right now." The wording is unfortunate, but at least it's honest. "I don't really trust my own perspective. So while I know, deeply, because you're my friends, that you've never lied to me about enjoying yourself. I just can't..." Searching for the words has you huffing and shaking your head all over again. "I can't believe it or understand it."

“Because of what that bitch said about you?” Vanessa looks mad enough to spit nails. The fight that had been instigated to defend your honor hadn’t made you feel better and the words that you had learned were said about you had cut deep.

"This is...let's call it a lifelong problem." Sitting back against the pillows on the bed, you just drop your face into your hands and sigh. "I'm sorry to have dumped all of this on the three of you. Really."

“After what you have done for us?” Helena rolls her eyes and grabs a pack of cigarettes to offer you one. “You’re crazy.”

"Probably." You admit, letting out a half-laugh and accepting a cigarette.

“He was wrong.” Freckles tells you. “There is nothing wrong with you.” She promises. “You are soft and gorgeous. Warm and sensuous.”

"It's hard to see any kind of truth through my own doubt." Inhaling fire and exhaling smoke is such a seemingly small ritual, but it centers you in a way that you need right now. Like maybe if you had had just sat down and had a cigarette or two or three, you might not have had to bare your soul to these three kind women. To your friends – you have to remember that point. These are your friends. "I don't know if there is any truth. Looks and attraction and all of that...it's all subjective anyway."

“It is subjective.” That all the women can agree on. “My first love, he was ugly by any standards.” Freckles snorts. “But I fucked his brains out every chance I got.”

“You loved him,” you point out, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “That makes all the difference.”

“And you don’t love Javier.” She murmurs, bewildered by the idea that you might not even be attracted to your soulmate. She reaches over and takes your hand. “Not all soulmates are sexual.” She reminds you. “Javi would never force you.”

“I barely know Javier.” It feels like an entirely lame defense, but it’s true. And besides which you’re not even sure why you feel the need to defend yourself at all. But you do.

“I thought you were staying at his apartment?” Vanessa looks surprised by the fact you haven’t gotten close to him.

“I am.” It’s been nearly impossible to find a place that will let you keep Chi-Chi that you can afford and is reasonably safe, and you have just ended up there indefinitely. “But it isn’t as though we sit around the kitchen cooking meals together and having some sort of domestic fantasy.”

“So you avoid each other?” Helena frowns, not liking that at all. Javier needs a connection with someone, he is dangerously close to burnout and making mistakes and the physicality has been removed, so the emotional was definitely needed. Unless he had found comfort somewhere else.

“Not actively. I mean I sit in the living room reading at night and sometimes he’s home. We both just work constantly.” Shrugging just feels even more pathetic now but you’re not sure what else to do. “We just…don’t talk a lot when the two of us are there.”

"You are both so alike it's almost scary." Vanessa sighs softly and shakes her head.

“Stubborn and frustrating?” You guess, huffing out a half-laugh.

"YES!" All three women laugh when they answer at the same time.

The suddenness of it startles a chuckle out of you, until all four of you are laughing in a heap on the bed together. “This is what I needed,” you sigh, breathing through another laugh as Freckles hugs you to her side. “To see my friends.”

“Why don’t you fuck Javi?” She suggests playfully. “He will have you feeling good.”

“I walked in here so insecure I couldn’t even kiss any of you.” You remind them gently. “I don’t know that I’m in a place to be fucking anyone.”

"What has made you so insecure?" Helena demands, hating that you would feel that way. "Explain it to me."

You all but huff at her, feeling your shoulders round all over again. “Is being called a whale not enough?”

She frowns, reaching out and lifting your chin. "You – the woman who fought to come to Colombia, who was angry that your bosses would not let you go undercover in a brothel – let a tiny dicked man who never made you cum think badly about yourself?" She asks furiously, although her tone is softly censuring. "When your soulmate was so enraged on your behalf that he started a fight for your honor?"

The other girls murmur their agreement, but you feel all the more sheepish at having it put like that. “You make it sound very romantic.”

“It kind of is romantic.” She grins. “Especially knowing that Javier looks very sexy when he’s angry.”

"If you like him when he's angry, you'd probably be amused as hell at how we fight." It's been a week or so since the last time you argued, but the fights are fewer and farther between now, as well as shorter. Last time it had been as stupid and domestic as you getting annoyed about the schedule you worked out for feeding the dog.

“What could you possibly fight about when you barely talk?” Vanessa asks.

"Stupid things."

"You fight because you don't talk." Helena points out. And knowing you both as well as she does, she has it right on the money.

“Why don’t you do something together?” Freckles suggests. “Watch a movie?”

It's such a small, simple thing. A movie. Not a date, not a spectacle. Just a stupid, normal little movie on tv while you sit on the couch. It's...oddly appealing, actually. But you're still unsure. "Does he ever sit still long enough for something like that?"

“I’m sure you could convince him to.” Helena smirks, although she’s convinced Javier is only still when he’s asleep, or on a stakeout.

"You're all so very certain that I could get him to do anything I wanted." It's frustrating in a completely different way. Because you simply can't see how or why they believe it.

“Javi wants a connection with someone.” Vanessa hums. “Even if he won’t admit it. Even if he fights it.”

"Something else I guess we have in common, then." They know you too well for you to pretend otherwise. They know your tendency to run. To hide. To push away emotional connections. Even Alex had been kept at arm's length, but had managed to crack away at that deep desire for affection enough to hurt you with it. The bastard.

“We told you that you are the exact same.” Freckles rolls her eyes and leans in to press her lips to yours playfully with a smack.

"Apparently so." The gesture is received with gratitude, even if your heart feels a little heavier as you start to really believe what your friends have been telling you. "I'm not sure there is anything to do about it, though."

“Why?” Helena asks, wondering what could be so monumental to keep soulmates from being together.

"We sort of talked about it. The first night I stayed with him. When my building was raided." And the number of times you have gone back over it in your head since then is positively shameful. "He pretty much said he's not interested in being together. So it's all...moot. I guess."

“This was after your argument over me?” Helena asks, tsking when you nod. “The first strike.” She whispers to the other girls and they groan and nod in agreement.

"What do you mean 'strike'?" You ask, frowning.

“He rejected you before you could reject him.” She sighs. “Stupid bastard.”

"Alright, well..." Somehow that hurts far worse than you could have predicted, and you lean back in the pillows with a frown, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's still a rejection."

Vanessa huffs and throws up her hands. “Both of you, stubborn!” She hisses. “You would have done the same and you know it. You are two sides to the same mirror.”

"So what am I supposed to do about it, then?" You hiss back, feeling stung and stuck and just a tad insulted to boot. "Beg him to reconsider? Seduce him? Plead with my soulmate to give me another chance? Fuck that."

“One of you will have to bend.” Helena sighs. “It will just be a matter of who.”

"Now you see why I'm so frustrated." So frustrated that you could not see the light for all the dark around you. But your friends have helped that more than you expected.

“I am surprised Javi let you live with him.” Freckles admits. “He has never lived with anyone.”

"He feels guilty." At least that's what you assumed. It probably doesn't do any good to assume, but that is what you've done. "Because it was his team that raided my building."

“And he could have found you a place to live inside of an hour.” Vanessa snorts.

"I've been looking for weeks," you remind her, sheepish and embarrassed that it has taken you so long.

“Javier has been here for years.” She reminds you. “How do you think he got such an amazing apartment?”

"I can't figure out if you're implying that he's letting me look fruitlessly or that he's actively sabotaging my attempts to find somewhere else to live." Either one is deeply confusing and has complicated connotations, and you're not entirely sure what to do about it.

“That’s something you will have to ask him about.” All three women shrug and give you unsure looks.

“Full, meaningful conversation, huh?” You sigh, knowing they’re right. “That’s probably the respectful thing to do.”

“You do what you need to do.” Freckles tells you. “Only you and Javier can determine what happens. Not anyone else.”

“I’d much rather have it just all work itself out for us,” you admit, though the complaint is half-hearted. Having something handed to you means it’s never quite as satisfactory or as lasting.

Helena snorts and leans against you playfully. “You can do that.” She admits. “It will be an interesting journey.”

******

You’re still trying to figure out what the hell kind of journey could possibly be ahead of you when Javier comes home that night. It’s earlier than usual but still not what any normal person would call early. Thankfully you’re both night owls, so you’re in the process of making some dinner when the door opens. Having managed to track down an Italian market in an immigrant community in Bogotá during your first weeks there, you continue to make the pilgrimage whenever you need to stock up on ingredients.

Tonight you wanted comfort food — chunks of beef slowly stewed with onions, garlic, mushrooms, and carrots in tomatoes and red wine. The whole thing will be ladled over creamy, cheesy polenta and you can’t wait. These recipes your father taught you still mean everything to you as a grown woman.

He smells the food from the hallway. Different than the normal scents of cooking from other apartments and yet it is just as mouthwatering. He comes into the door and groans quietly. “I’m back.” He calls out politely.

“You’re home early.” It’s just an observation, but it feels so incredibly domestic in your current setting. “I got a little nostalgic and made a ton of food. Do you like Italian?”

“Love it.” Javi admits. “We had this little place in Laredo that did the little tea candles on the table. Best damn lasagna I’ve ever had.”

“Lasagna is one of my ultimate comfort meals.” And it sticks somewhere in your head that you’ll have to make it for him sometime. Cooking is soothing for you, after all. And an excellent way to say thank you for letting me live in your apartment and refusing to take my rent money every time I offer. “This is my dad��s version of Italian beef stew with polenta.”

He makes an impressed face and nods. “Sounds good. Do I have time for a shower?” He asks, feeling sticky and wanting to wash away the filth of the day.

"Yeah, absolutely." It's suddenly become a whole to-do, this comfort dinner of yours, but you nod. Somehow it's so much easier to see how handsome he is tonight. Like talking with the girls today had softened some of the sharp edges you had imagined before. "We could...turn on a movie while we eat? If you want to?"

He looks over at you in surprise, but your back is to him, stirring the pot at the stove furiously. Either the stew is temperamental or you are avoiding looking at him. “That sounds good.” He admits. “Cabinet under the tv has some tapes.” He tells you. “A few movies my pop sent me.”

"Okay." Stirring the polenta is just a way to distract yourself so he doesn't catch you staring at him, but that's alright. It needs to be stirred anyway. "I'll pick something out and set it up."

“Okay, uh, I’ll just jump in the shower then.” He mumbles, feeling slightly out of sorts now that you’ve agreed to this. It feels intimate, domestic, like an evening at home between soulmates would be.

"Okay." Repeating the word feels awkward, but you try to dismiss the feeling as nerves or tension. Everything is totally fine. It's just a meal. You've eaten together plenty of times before.

Heading back to his room, his movements are completely in autopilot. Unclipping his badge and gun from his hip, setting them down in his dresser and emptying his pockets. Memories of his parents sitting on the old flowered sofa in their living room watching a movie or tv show when he was younger springs to mind. Peeking around the corner from the kitchen and listening to his mother giggle quietly and seeing them kiss before he scurried back to his room.

By the time he comes back out again, you have dinner set up in bowls, two glasses of wine poured from what was left in the bottle, and his well-loved copy of Raiders of the Lost Ark in the VCR. "Bad day?" You ask, trying to be as casual and normal as possible when you catch the moody expression on his face. You probably haven't hit it at all, but you're trying.

“Every day I don’t catch that bastard is a bad day.” Javi snorts and shakes his head. “It’s frustrating. Feeling like we are just spinning our wheels again.”

"I refuse to believe you got nothing done today." He's too clever and too dedicated for that, but you won't belabor the point. "Anyway, it's late and there's not much you can do for the rest of tonight. But dinner is hot and there's booze."

That sounds fucking amazing and Javi groans in appreciation. “You didn’t have to do all this.” He reminds you, gesturing to the meal set out on the coffee table.

"I thought it would be nice." Technically speaking, you didn't make this meal for him. It is a comfort for you with the added side benefit of there being plenty to share with him. But there is something in his voice that stops you from saying so.

Javi sits down and then second guesses himself. “Do you want to sit here?” He asks, getting back up.

"Sit wherever you want." He's nervous and you're trying not to let it put you on edge too. This was just a spur of the moment idea that seemed like a nice way to spend the night. "It is your couch."

He snorts and shrugs. “I don’t care where I sit, but you might have claimed a certain corner as your own.” He jokes.

"Normally that's just whatever corner Chi-Chi has left for me when she sprawls out over the entire couch." You joke. He had let her up on his furniture on day two of having the two of you in his place and she never looked back.

“I feel like she would take up all the space if you gave her half a chance. Even a king-sized bed.” He rolls his eyes and looks over at the dog that is currently sprawled over the floor.

"Oh, believe me." With your bowls and wine sitting on the coffee table, you come closer and sit down in the corner of the couch that he isn't occupying. "Half the time when I crawl into bed at night, she's sprawled out over the entire mattress. So I have no trouble imagining she would take up a king if she can dominate my full size."

Javi frowns. “Then we should get you a bigger bed.” He hadn’t really thought much about the size of the bed in the guest room. It was just there for someone to sleep if needed and until Helena and you, it had never been used.

"You don't..." You had been reaching for your wine glass when he said it and you almost knock it over by accident. "You don't have to do that. I mean...it's your apartment. I'm just staying here through the seemingly interminable search for an apartment. I really can't figure out why it's so damn hard to find a place this time around."

Javi hums and doesn’t comment on that. Instead, he reaches for his own wine glass. “You’ll find one eventually.” He finally says.

"Eventually." The girls' words float through your mind again, and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye as you pick up your glass more securely. "You know...you've been here longer than me. I'm surprised you don't know anyone looking for a tenant."

His eyes slide he to you and then back to the tv where the beginning of the movie is finally starting after the commercials. “I’ve been keeping an ear out for something that would be good for you.” He tells you vaguely.

"Yeah?" Deciding to play the cards you have, you take a sip of your wine and then set the glass down to pick up your bowl. Dinner smells amazing and it's finally going to be cool enough to eat without burning yourself. "The girls seem to think you wouldn't have had any trouble. And that you might not mind having me around."

Javi nearly drops his spoon, hissing a curse and bobbles it for a second before catching it. “Yeah?” He turns to purse his lips at you grumpily. “The girls don’t know everything, do they?”

"Hey," you shrug, playing it off like you aren't fishing for information but giving something up instead. "I thought it was kind of nice that they thought that. Like we might actually be getting used to each other."

He relaxed slightly and turns back to towards the tv and his stew. “You don’t annoy me as much as you first did.” He snorts. “And you cook.”

"So it's purely functional." It's just light teasing, because you're not really questioning him or calling him out. It's just...nice to hear the good humor in his voice. "Maybe...you would let me pay rent in groceries and cooking? Instead of cash?"

“You don’t have to pay rent.” He huffs out, rolling his eyes as you bring up the idea yet again. “I would have to rent this place even if you didn’t sleep in that room.” He points out again. “And the electricity and water are included. It costs me nothing.”

Your hand, spoon and all, stop halfway to your mouth. "You...don't pay rent? Like at all?"

That wasn’t what he said, but he shrugs. “Technically? No.” He admits. “DEA pays for it. And it’s under the set amount they give us. So I make money every month.”

"Well shit..." The fact that you misunderstood him at first doesn't change the meaning of the thing. His housing stipend more than covers the cost of the space you have both been living in. You almost sputter around the fact, but end up biting your lip and shrugging exaggeratedly. "Fine. I'll just cook because I like to and because we both need to eat." Looking over at him though, your head tilts unconsciously. "But...maybe it would be okay if I stop looking for a different place?"

Even though he’s honestly relieved that you are voicing that, Javi jolts one shoulder up in the air casually, as if it doesn’t matter to him. “Up to you.” He grunts as he spoons up a first bite of the stew and polenta. “If you’re comfortable here.”

“Chi-Chi is.” You nod toward the enormous sprawl of an animal nearby. She’s found a corner of rug and isn’t giving it up for anything. “I guess that settles it.” As if the dog’s comfort and happiness were the only factor, you simply start eating, turning your attention to the screen with a smile curling your lips.

It’s probably the first thing that you’ve not argued with him about and he grunts, wondering if it’s because you feel safer here, or if the fact that he had spread word that the American woman looking for an apartment was important to the DEA had scared people off. He doesn’t regret it at all. Eventually someone would know about your connection to him, and he didn’t want that used and you to be harmed.

It’s several minutes later when you laugh to yourself during the movie that you realize how simultaneously comfortable and tense you are here these days. And that the tension isn’t the walking on eggshells kind of tension you’ve had with other people in the past. But something almost eager. Like it’s on the verge of actually being pleasurable. But that might just be the soulmate bond talking. Either way, you go on eating and smiling to yourself, wondering if he feels it too or if you’re just too convinced by what the girls had to say today.

Hearing you snort in amusement; Javi looks over at you to find you grinning. “Have a think for this guy?” He asks with a smirk, nodding towards the tv. Most of the office girls in the typing pool swoon over Harrison Ford.

“Who doesn’t?” You counter, unashamed to admit to it. “Just like every other woman my age, right? Every guy I know is in love with Michelle Pfeiffer. It’s the same deal.”

He chuckles and shrugs. “She’s alright.” He answers. “I don’t really fantasize about women who wouldn’t even know my name.” He admits. “I like the ones I’ve got a chance with.”

“Fantasizing is an integral part of my day to day,” you tell him, glancing away from the screen to see if he’s looking at you. You can’t tell if you’re hoping for it or not, but you’re curious.

He watches you turn your head and look into his eyes. His curiosity getting the best of him. “And what do you fantasize about?” His voice is suddenly raspier, dropping into a lower, more intimate pitch.

“I—” You hadn’t meant it like that. In fact you’d barely thought about what you were saying when you said it. But now that he’s asked? The coil in your guts tightens and you swallow thickly. “Lots of things.” The truth sparks from you like wildfire. “W—waking up wrapped in someone…those little touches that are electric with someone new…the whole, uh…the whole…work surprise thing…”

“Work surprise?” He frowns slightly. “Like fucking in the broom closet?” He asks, trying to understand you a bit better even if this is more than he ever thought he would know. You aren’t interested in him, but he’s curious.

“Not what I was thinking.” You laugh, though, trying not to pay attention to the way your skin tingles in response to the idea of him dragging you into a closet for anything remotely sexual. “I was thinking more like…the romance of a surprise. My mom used to make excuses to go surprise my dad at work every single week. Just because she knew how hard he worked, and she wanted there to always be something to look forward to on the hardest days.”

“Your mom would go to your dad’s work to fuck him?” He remembers that your dad was a chef and he chuckles. “I heard some kinky shit happens in a kitchen.”

“I mean…” The realization is striking, that that probably is exactly what was happening, and you sputter for a few seconds out of sheer surprise. “She always told us she was just going to spend his breaks with him, but…probably.”

He laughs quietly, watching the realization rush over your face. “It’s always weird to think about your parents fucking.” He reaches over and pats your thigh. “It’s okay.”

“She just always made it sound very romantic,” you admit, dissolving into laughter.

“Fucking can be romantic.” He chuckles. “And romance can be a passionate quickie.” He snorts, “My parents probably used the hay loft more than I did.”

“See, stripping down in a hayloft to roll around on a blanket does sound romantic.” Or maybe you just have a little bit of a cowboy kink. Who knows? “A restaurant stock room? Not so much.”

He smirks as he shrugs. “Depends on what gets you going.” He argues playfully. “Maybe mayonnaise did it for them.”

“Gross.” But you’re still laughing, the movie forgotten in the background and your dinner sitting in your lap. “I can readily say mayonnaise does not get me going.”

He chuckles as he spoons up another bite of the meal. He almost tells you that he will note that, but you might not want him to do that. “Oh I love this part.” He snorts as he catches sight of the movie again.

Indy’s exploits suddenly seem less interesting to you, but you watch the movie and continue to eat with an undeniable warmth building in your chest.

The problem is that Javi wants to keep talking to you, but he also doesn’t want you to think that all he wants to talk to you about is sex. It’s frankly surprising to a man who enjoys sex and women as much as he does, but sex with you seems to be about as obtainable as climbing Mt. Everest.

“I always wanted to be Marion Ravenwood when I was a teenager…” It comes out as just a little murmur, but it’s true. Marion had been one of your favorite role models. “Her or Lois Lane.”

“She was always way too good for Indy.” Javi points at the screen with his spoon as he reaches for his wine with the other hand. “But I’m sure Lois speaks to you more because of that journalism connection.”

“She’s the one I went with in the end, I guess.” The comment that Marion is too good for Indy makes you glance over at him again and consider. He has that whole dashing-and-daring thing that Indy does —would he think a Marion was too good for him too?

“You’ve got a little bit of Marion in there too.” Javi tells you as he sits back with his wine and takes another sip. It’s pretty damn good with the meal. “Digging for a story down here is kind of like digging for the fucking Arc.” He huffs, halfway grinning.

“I’ve got Marion from plenty of things.” You shrug your shoulders. “Stubborn, persistent, cocky at the wrong times and wildly insecure at others. Plus the drinking.”

“Insecure?” He frowns. “Why? You’re a ball buster. You shouldn’t have an insecure bone in your body.”

“Seriously?” You almost slip and call him Javi, even though you’ve never called him anything but Javier in the whole time you’ve known him. The girls all call him Javi and it feels so intimate. “It’s a total front.”

"It's a good one." He admits. "When you want to exude confidence, you do." He hums to himself as he picks up his bowl again. "You'd make a hell of an actress if it's a front."

“I grew up with older brothers,” you remind him. “You learn to at least pretend to have a spine, or you end up trampled. In my case, I was then stupid enough to go into journalism. So it’s just more men everywhere, and these ones all want me to fail miserably.” Shrugging again, you put down your empty bowl and reach for your wine glass. “Maybe some of it stuck, I don’t know.”

"I don't fucking understand that." Javi shakes his head. "Yeah, there are certain jobs I don't like seeing a woman in. Ones where they are in danger, but that's my own bullshit and I would never want someone to fail."

“Then you were raised with a hell of a lot more respect than any of my colleagues.” There’s nothing really to do about it but keep your head down and keep fighting, so you just wave one hand as if it doesn’t matter. “Which is a comfort, by the way.”

"You don't watch a woman run a ranch, which is fucking hard work, while her husband is in the hospital and not realize that there isn't a whole hell of a lot women can't do." Javi might be old fashioned in some sense, but he had also been raised by a tough woman.

“Cheers to your mother, then.” You raise your glass to that without hesitation. “She sounds like she was a bad ass.”

"She was." He chuckles and lifts his drink in a toast to her. "Just like I'm sure your father was a hell of a man."

“Wherever they are, I’m sure they’re watching us and laughing together.” Tapping your glass against his, the clink rings out, and you share that drink to your parents with pride.

He shakes his head, knowing that his mama is laughing for certain. “She always warned me I would find someone who wouldn’t put up with me just because I was charming.”

“She wanted somebody who saw you for you.” That’s an admirable thing for a parent. For anyone to want for their loved one. “My Dad always said I’d find someone who wouldn’t put up with me talking shit about myself.” He actually said that your soulmate would be that person, but you won’t put that on Javier.

“You shouldn’t talk shit about yourself.” Javi agrees with that. “You have the power in any situation romantically.”

"Absolutely not." The very idea of it earns him a snort from you, and you practically drain your glass to keep from laughing out loud. "That is so far from the truth."

“Why do you think that’s not true?” He asks, curious to hear this answer.

"Because," you reason, finding that last sip of wine and putting your glass back down on the coffee table. "If I had any kind of upper hand, I wouldn't have spent most of my romantic life, I wouldn't have had to settle for weasels that I basically had to beg for attention."

“You have a pussy.” Javi reminds you. “And a nice set of tits and ass.” He rolls his eyes. “If you put your mind to it, you could have all those weasels begging you for attention.”

"That's...not really how it works for girls like me." At least, not in your experience. Or the experience of most other women your size that you've known throughout your life. It makes you lips turn down in a frown and you shift slightly in your place on the couch.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Javi frowns when he sees you pull in on yourself and turns back to his bowl. “I’m sorry.”

"No." Breathing out, you shake your head again and wipe your hands on your jeans. "No, my shitty self-esteem is not your responsibility. Sorry. Please don't let it ruin tonight."

“It’s not ruining the night.” Javi promises you. “I just didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

"You aren't." You assure him quickly. "I just...I guess I wish it was true. That it was just that easy."

“Just don’t let anyone give you shit.” He tells you. “You are a good girl.”

"Careful." Before you can stop yourself, the joking ball buster comes out of you all over again. "I might like being praised a little more than other girls."

He stares at you a moment before he snorts and shakes his head. “That’s the kind of attitude you should have.”

"Shameless vampy flirt?" You ask, with one eyebrow raised.

“Vampy?” He lifts a brow of his own in challenge.

Competitive. Your teachers and your brothers and your parents and everyone else in your childhood had always called you competitive. Not in the athletic sort of way. But in the way where you could never back down from a challenge. Almost instantly you're tossing the collar of your sweatshirt off your shoulder and batting your eyelashes, shaping your lips into a pout. "Is that what does it for you? Vampy?"

His cock twitches violently and if you weren’t who you are, he would be on you in a second. Taking you up on the invitation in that look. But you aren’t looking for him to jump you. “Maybe.” He manages, trying to not let it seem like it’s taking everything he had in him to act normal.

Something changes. Something in his eyes flashes. He tenses. Something in the moment reacts so assuredly that your heart speeds up and you unconsciously lick your lips, tongue darting out to wet them like some sort of silent and unintentional test to see if he's watching you as carefully and with as devoted focus as you're watching him. If you – when did you get to this place and why didn't you notice before? – actually want to kiss him as badly as you think you do in this moment.

Javi practically dumps the bowl onto the coffee table as he stands up. You licking your lips bothering him so much he has to move. “Gotta pee.” He explains. “Keep watching the movie.”

"I—uh—" He seems to panic and it deflates you instantly, to the point where all you can do is sputter and shrink back in your seat, shoving your stupid sweater back up on your stupid shoulder. "Right. Okay."

Javi does have to pee, but it takes a moment to get the half chub he has going on to go down. “She’s fucking teasing you.” He reminds himself. “Don’t fucking touch her. Just don’t.”

He was just fucking tease you. You reprimand yourself over and over, trying to get yourself under control before he comes back. Before you give yourself away. Before you have to admit to anyone but yourself that you actually had been hoping that he would take you up on the offer. Calm the fuck down!

After a few minutes, Javi slowly walks back down the hall. “Want a beer?” He asks, hovering between the kitchen and the living room. “Water?”

"Water is fine." More alcohol is probably a bad idea. You don't want to get tipsy and do something that will make things awkward again. "Thank you."

“Welcome.” He gets two glasses of water, figuring he better lay off the booze himself. He’s changed the mood and he doesn’t know how to go back to that somewhat easy vibe but he knows more alcohol won’t help.

With a little less than half the movie left, he brings back two glasses of water and you thank him for your again as he settles back down on the couch. Chi-Chi had barely stirred while he was gone but now she shifts, getting up from her corner of rug to move over four feet and flop down in front of the sofa as if she means to tell you that neither of you is allowed to get up again.

Javi snorts to himself and tries to watch the movie again, spreading his arm across the back of the couch towards you. Legs splayed a little to be comfortable and he takes a sip of his water, “Want a cigarette?”

"Sure. Thanks." You've gotten into the habit of sharing packs while you're in the apartment together so this, at least, is relatively normal. Or at least as normal as the two of you are bound to get.

Sharing a cigarette is normal. He reaches for the pack and puts one in his mouth and flicks the lighter. Taking a drag off the smoke before handing it to you.

It's such a little motion, and so practical, but after that moment of flirtation where you could have sworn you saw attraction in his eyes, it feels so intimate to smoke from a cigarette that was just held by his lips. Like if you try hard enough you could taste him instead.

Shit. You really have to stop thinking like this...

Javi leans back and sighs softly. “Needed that.” He admits. “Need to fucking quit, but I’m already cutting back on other things.”

“I keep thinking I should quit,” you admit, but take another drag when he passes it back to you. “But I never do.”

“Stress.” Javi snorts. “Addiction. Habit. Who knows?” He looks at it seriously and then takes another drag. “Smoking a cigarette is more satisfying than chewing some fucking gum.”

“I honestly don’t even like gum that much.” It’s stupid, that little insignificant piece of trivia about yourself, but you feel like you’ve made some tiny bit of headway tonight. At the very least, if you’re going to be roommates for a while, sharing things seems easier than expecting him to read your mind.

“It’s okay.” He doesn’t mind it, but the burn of the nicotine in his chest is what he really wants. “But it doesn’t beat this.” He hands the cigarette back to you, noticing the filter is stained with the last bits of wine from one of your lips, resembling lipstick.

You both silently realize it about the same time, and the smile tugging at your lips grows ever so slightly in silent response. Acts of connection, no matter how small, are making you happy tonight.

“Got another carton in the car.” Javi tells you. “I’ll bring them in before I leave in the morning.”

“Thank you. It’s so much easier than high-tailing it across the city to that American market near my old place.” You’re learning his neighborhood— your neighborhood— little by little. It will be good to put it more of an effort now. Since you’re officially staying put.

“Yeah.” Javi frowns slightly. “Be careful if you go back over on that side of town.” He tells you. “Escobar wasn’t happy about his sicarios.”

“Shit…” You wipe one hand down your face and sigh. “Inez found a new place in that same neighborhood. I’ll have to tell her to watch out.”

“Yeah.” He knows you still talk to the bartender from the club you lived under. She was also your neighbor. “Let her know.”

“Thanks, Javi.” It slips this time, just a nickname. Just a small act of intimacy. But it slips without you even realizing it.

He hears the softness of his nickname on your tongue. Making him want to reach out. To pull you closer to him, but he doesn’t. You two are in this awkward, yet comforting place and he doesn’t want to rock the boat. “You’re welcome.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

BFoW: @haileymorelikestupid @theorganasolo @missladym1981 @alexiamargot06 @southernbe

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #Javier Peña x plus size reader #plus size reader #Narcos #Narcos fanfic #soulmate au #forced proximity #and they were roommates #enemies to lovers

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gravityfallsrenaissance · 2 months ago

Text

On the first day of his last year of high school, Soos finds out that no one in Gravity Falls, Oregon is a foster parent.

He’s sitting in the hallway of the hospital with a police officer and social worker as they explain to him that even though he’s 17, he has no legal parent or guardian. It’s the day he find out his Dad terminated his parental rights.

They tell him that the nearest set of registered foster parents is about a 3 hour drive away, which doesn’t give him much time to pack.

While he’s packing up his things at the house, their landline starts ringing. Soos goes to answer it and is met with gruff spanish he doesn’t hear very often.

“Hola señora, ¿cómo está Soos? No lo he visto y sé que es su primer día de regreso a la escuela. Le dije que no hab��a trabajo la primera semana, pero por lo general viene para al menos contarme cómo le fue y solo quería asegurarme de que estaba bien.”

Soos stands speechless for a moment. He’s unable to get the words out in Spanish.

“Hi Mr. Pines, um, I won’t be able to come into work anymore.”

“Soos? Kid, are you alright?”

“Abuela passed away this morning. It turns out there aren’t any foster parents in town, and the nearest couple is 3 hours away, so I’m glad you called because I wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to come back to work. The social worker is having me pick up my things right now, I don’t know if they’ll let us drive past the Shack so I can-“

“Soos, I need you to pass the phone to the social worker for me.”

He does, and before he realizes what’s happening, Soos is being packed into the car and driving down familiar roads. Mr. Pines must have convinced them that Soos wanted to say goodbye and when the arrive he’s shocked to see him sitting on the front porch in clothes that aren’t the Mr. Mystery costume or his weekend tank top and boxers. He’s dressed in slacks and a clean dress shirt with no embellishments. He looks like he shaved.

Soos leaves his bag in the car to say goodbye and is surprised when the social worker grabs it for him.

“Mr. Pines, thank you for offer of temporary guardianship as we sort out Jesus’s situation. It’ll be easier for him to stay close for the funeral and in making decisions about his grandmother’s estate.”

Mr. Pines has an expression Soos has never seen and can’t figure out. The man is always smiling or grumbling and now he’s just nodding and offering his hand to the social worker before turning to Soos.

“Hey, Soos. Why don’t you take your bag and go get set up? I cleaned out the room on the first floor for you, I’ll be right in.”

***

Soos had been in this part of the Shack many times over the years, usually to work on homework with Mr. Pines after work or to eat tamales that his Abuela had asked him to send along.

He finds the room Mr. Pines was talking about and sees that everything looks like it’s been hastily cleaned and stored away. The room itself looks the same with a bed, dresser, closet, rug, and desk all freshly, if haphazardly, wiped down.

He sets down his bag and sits on the bed, unsure if he should unpack. Unsure how long he’s staying.

An indeterminate amount of time later, he notices Mr. Pines standing in the doorway and must startle, because Mr. Pines raises his hands a little looking sheepish.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, kid. Sorry.”

He continues to stand a bit oddly in the doorway before sighing, grabbing the desk chair, and pulling it so that he’s facing Soos.

“Look, there are a couple of things you and I should talk about, and I know this is all going a bit fast, so once I let you know what’s going on I’ll try and slow it down a bit. Do you have any questions?”

“Er, how long am I staying here?”

“Well, see, we kind of need to figure that one out together. I got you placed in my custody temporarily since I told them I’m a friend of the family, and it’ll take a while to sort out the foster parent paper work-“

“But, Mr. Pines, I’m your handyman. I don’t-“

“Kid, if you think I’m letting them ship you off to some yahoos from God knows where before we’ve even had a chance to hold the funeral-“

And Soos swears he didn’t mean to, he’s almost 18 and he hasn’t cried in a long time, but it’s been a long day and it’s really setting in that Mr. Pines is taking him in and that Abuela is dead.

Mr. Pines is next to him quickly and Soos realizes this is the first time he’s been hugged by Mr. Pines that didn’t have some sort of odd excuse to avoid seeming awkward.

When Soos has cried himself out he breathes for a minute and lets himself enjoy the fact that Mr. Pines is hugging him and then pulls back to get a good look at him and wipe his eyes.

Soos’s tear tracks are on Mr. Pines’s shirt and his eyes look a little red, but otherwise he appears to be holding together better than Soos.

“You’re staying with me now, alright? I’ll help you sort out the funeral and moving your stuff over here, and talk to your school. You’re still a kid, and even if you weren’t, I’m not letting you do this by yourself. I’ll need your help though, since I haven’t met any of your other family and I don’t know who I should be trying to get in contact with and all. But we can sort that out tomorrow or the day after.”

“Am I going to school tomorrow?”

“Nah, kid. I’ll call you in until we can get everything figured out. Come on, I should figure out what we’re doing for dinner and then I’ll let you pick something on tv. Or I mean, we can talk if you need…”

Soos shakes his head a bit. He doesn’t know what he’d say. It feels wrong, sitting in this house and doing normal things that he’d otherwise be excited by. He’d always wanted Mr. Pines’s approval, but not at the cost of his Abuela.

And for everything to just keep going made his chest hurt. Mr. Pines was right, all of this felt like it was going too fast because none of it should be happening at all. He should have had years with his Abuela, he should have got to come home and tell her about his first day of senior year and talk her ear off about all the cool new exhibits he and Mr. Pines were putting together.

But that wouldn’t ever happen again.

Mr. Pines put his arm around Soos’s shoulders and led him out into the kitchen.

***

What cut through the misery and strangeness and wrongness of grieving his Abuela were the changes he saw in Mr. Pines.

He was… gentler.

Soos was used to the gruff and sometimes abrasive personality of his employer. Now foster parent. But he did not know the man who woke him up for school in the morning, made breakfast, packed lunch, and cooked dinner. Who called his extended family, helped him pack his Abuela’s house, helped him with homework, and stood next to him on a Tuesday in September as they said goodbye to his Abuela.

The real difference was how much he talked, and what he talked about.

He was just, more open.

If Soos cried, he was there. If he wanted to visit Abuela, Mr. Pines went with. If he needed help with homework, Mr. Pines sat with him until they figured it out.

He asked him about his videogames and anime and manga and anything else Soos was interested in. He offered to show him how to work on his car.

He didn’t really talk about himself much, but now, there were small scraps and interjections about things that Soos had never heard him mention. Observations about the desert, names of people he picked up Spanish from, boxing tips, how he read body language or tone for making a sale. Things that made him seem less like Mr. Mystery and more like Mr. Pines.

It felt like Soos was peaking behind a curtain.

Mr. Pines seemed to have dialed himself back, maybe. Soos wasn’t sure what to call it.

Even when he was fixing things up around the Shack for him there was less gruffness in his requests.

Soos loved it and felt an immense guilt about it.

He knew Mr. Pines was just being kind and that Soos was almost an adult and wouldn’t need this level of kindness since he’d be expected to.

Well.

Actually, he wasn’t sure what would be expected of him when he turned 18.

So one night at dinner, he asked Mr. Pines what would happen when he turned 18.

“You wanna go to college?”

“Not exactly but-“

“You want to keep working here?”

“Well yes but Mr. Pines I meant-“

“Soos, you’re welcome here for as long as you’d like to stay. This is my home and it’s yours as much as you’d like.”

“As much as I’d like?”

Mr. Pines shifted awkwardly in his chair and nodded.

“I didn’t want to assume anything but, the paperwork makes me your legal guardian. I’m responsible for you now, kid. So yeah, my home is yours. I don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping you from your family or anything but, even if I’m only fostering you, you’re part of mine.”

“You want me to be part of your family? For real?”

“Well yeah kid, I didn’t sign all those forms because you’re my employee. I mean you are kinda but like- Soos. Did you think I was only doing this because I wanted you to keep working at the Shack?”

Soos felt his face heat up and started to deny it but Mr. Pines cut him off pretty quick.

“Shit kid, okay look. I was trying not to presume how you feel about any of this. I didn’t want to put words in your mouth or um. Well, look. I was only married in Vegas briefly and I don’t really have my sights on going the whole conventional route of getting married and then, that’s to say, shit. Soos, I’ve always sort of thought of you as my son.”

Soos’s eyes were so wide. Mr. Pines’s face also seemed to heat up a bit and he tried shrugging, as though this wasn’t a big deal. As though it wasn’t something incredibly important to Soos.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, because I’m not really a great father figure and all, but look. When your Abuela was still around I could kid myself that it wasn’t something I wanted, being a parent and all. But now you’re living with me and I can’t help it. You’re a good kid, Soos. I’m not trying to replace anyone but, I guess, I want you to know that this is permanent. If you want it to be.”

Soos felt his eyes well up and Mr. Pines was on his feet, turning their chairs together so he could wrap an arm around him.

“I care about you, kid. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, but it felt like something I should let you decide.”

Soos cried a little and laughed when Mr. Pines ruffled his hair before moving far enough apart to go back to eating, but not all the way across the table from him.

“So, if I wanted to stay here and keep working for you?”

“That’s more than enough for me, kid. I’d love for you to stay, if you want to.”

“And when I’m an adult, does that mean the foster thing-“

“I don’t really know what happens with that exactly. I mean, the social worker told me that I mean, if I wanted to and you agreed, I could file adoption paperwork since your um, well since your Father terminated his parental rights but uh, I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to bring that up.”

Soos felt his eyes tear up again and Mr. Pines gently cuffed him on the back of the head.

“Oh hush kid, c’mon no more tears. I swear no one else in our family is this weepy. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Our family?”

“Well yeah. Crap. I’ve uh, well I’ve got an older brother who’s got kids I should probably introduce you too. Surprise, you’ve got cousins!”

Soos laughed tearily and chanced another hug, which he definitely got.

And of course it hurt, his Abuela was gone and he missed her everyday. But it was nice not being alone.

Google translate spanish below the cut:

Hola señora, ¿cómo está Soos? No lo he visto y sé que es su primer día de regreso a la escuela. Le dije que no había trabajo la primera semana, pero por lo general viene para al menos contarme cómo le fue y solo quería asegurarme de que estaba bien.

Hello ma'am, how is Soos? I haven't seen him and I know it's his first day back in school. I told him there's no working the first week back but he usually stops by to at least tell me how it went and I just wanted to make sure he's okay.

#gravity falls #stanley pines #soos ramirez #soos #grunkle stan #i hate dialogue tags so much #and i’m sorry abuela #didn’t actually mean to write all of this #but i kinda love the idea of stan adopting soos #also - would this mean soos stumbles across the portal or learns of ford? or helps stan try and bring him back?

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canichangemyblogname · 3 months ago

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911 fans do understand that someone doesn’t need to be devout to still be Catholic, right? They don’t have to be actively practicing or a staunch practitioner to still be a believer and, crucially, culturally Catholic, something which will influence their lived reality and worldview.

Sure, Eddie Diaz has been far from the most devout Catholic and he has frequently been portrayed as the least likely member of the 118 to believe in the supernatural. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe in God or honor the Saints or practice casually. Nor does it make Catholicism any less influential in his life. He might be the type of guy who’s a “Chreaster” (Christmas + Easter Christian; a.k.a. A “submarine Christian), but that doesn’t mean Catholicism is any less influential on his upbringing, lived reality, or worldview. In fact, it has deeply impacted how he views his place in the world as a man and even how he views other people’s place in the world relative to him as a man.

More on this below:

Cultural Catholicism— specifically Mexican Catholicism— is why Eddie hallucinated his former girlfriend as THEE Madonna. But not just any Virgin Mary, she looked to him like Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe del Tepeyac. The Catholic influence on his upbringing has had a large impact on how he views manhood, womanhood, and the relationship between the two. This Catholic influence, combined with the influences of the patriarchy in Mexican culture, like machismo, has led him to view women in the role of carer instead of partner. It’s why he seems to “use” his girlfriends as glorified babysitters. It’s why it seems he’s been looking for a woman to simply “take the place” as Chris’ “new mom,” instead of find someone he enjoys life with. It’s part of why he has a hard time getting it up or keeping it up when he’s in a loving and respectful relationship with a woman. It’s part of why he could only fuck around with Shannon when she wasn’t filling the role of “mother” for Chris, but once he let her back into Chris’ life, she ceased to be his wife and then became “the mother of my son” (see: the beach scene). He keeps falling into the trap of sorting women into either the Madonna archetype or the Whore archetype, yet people aren’t really talking about WHO he views as the Madonna, HOW he views the Madonna, or fucking WHY.

As @/talktonytome mentioned, it is the cultural influences in his life and the absence of his father that have taught him what “being a man” means. He was expected to assume the role of “provider” from a young age. He was forced to grow up fast, literally parentified by his paterfamilias. His own father told him that he had to assume the role of the “man of the family” as a child, and yet would continue to exert an incredible degree of influence and control over Eddie’s life course and decisions, as Eddie, Shannon, and Chris were completely financially dependent on Eddie’s parents (and dependent on them for child care). This dependency fostered an hostile and toxic dynamic. On top of this, he was literally just a kid when he got his girlfriend—who was also just a kid—pregnant. He believed that he and Shannon *had* to make it work for their kid and that they both *had* to “step-up” and “do it right” by getting married, despite literally being teens. There are reasons why babies should never feel pressured to or be forced to have a baby.

Because of his father, Eddie comes to believe that a “real man” devotes his all to his wife and kid, never abandoning them and always providing for them, unlike his own father. Which is why Eddie has spent every waking moment since moving to LA trying to make up for a life choice that he truly believes meant he abandoned his family: joining, and then reenlisting, in the army. “I ran out first. I ran out on both of them. … Instead of going back home, I reenlisted. I told myself it was to pay the bills—” “But you were running away too.” “Yeah…” It was all overwhelming because he wasn’t ready, so he sought an escape. He felt trapped by his circumstances and his family and saw only one “legitimate” route out: joining the army. He was then forced to grow up more by the force-arm of the (equally authoritarian) masculinist state: the United States Military. And this institution would continue to reinforce aspects of machismo that he’d learned through his father. Showing fear, pain, or grief makes you weak. Turn off your instinct to cry, embrace stoicism, and push through with any weapon you’ve got; it’ll award you accommodation.

This is also why he has spent every day since Shannon died punishing himself. He believes he abandoned her. He believes he failed her. He wasn’t able to devote his all to her. He couldn’t provide and he couldn’t make it work. All of this makes him a failed man in his mind. A failed husband and a failed dad and a poor excuse of a man.

Cultural Catholicism was also part of the reason for the familial and societal pressure to marry that he experienced as a teen after getting his girlfriend pregnant. It does, in fact, contribute to the social pressure to be partnered. And not *just* partnered, married. Through the church. There actually *IS* a reason Eddie’s mind immediately jumped to “marriage” when Tía Pepa set him up on a blind date. There is genuine pressure in Latiné families not just to be partnered, but to get married. Tía Pepa ambushed him with a date because it “breaks [her] heart to see [him] alone” and she’s afraid of him being alone forever. And she told him this immediately after bringing up how Alicia is getting married soon, and how Rafael, Fernando, and Liliana are all having kids. She might say “¿Que marriage? Who said anything about marriage?” (immediately after bringing up marriage, mind you) or “Let me introduce you to—” or “You need to get back out there—” now, but it will be “When are you getting married?” and “When are you having kids?” later. Being alone is stigmatized. Not getting married is stigmatized. Having a kid out of wedlock is stigmatized. And the thing is? Your parents and family don’t even have to be devout practitioners themselves to still contribute to this social pressure. Hell, you don’t have to be a devout practitioner to still believe any of it. Like Eddie hasn’t been the most devout and yet the seal of St. Christopher still holds a great deal of meaning to him.

Eddie doesn’t know who he is outside of being a provider. He’s never had the opportunity to discover himself. He went from being a kid to being a husband and father over the course of nine months. He then quickly went from a military career to being a single father in a new city, finally under his own roof at the age of about 28+. He never went on a long meandering road trip across the US and several countries in a quest to “find himself.” He never went to college where he’d experience new friend groups and ideologies. He has been under the thumb of authority or expectation since he was a teen. He’s never been alone.

So, how does he now find himself when he can no longer be what he’s long defined himself by?

#Eddie Diaz #do you see how this is compelling?#do you see how his story can be so so important to Latiné members of the audience who also grew up too fast for similar reasons?#he represents someone— I promise #and he’s compelling on his own #I want to see him get screen time for his own storylines #and more screen time with characters like Chim. Hen. Karen. Bobby. Athena #Buck being his best friend is super cool and great #But Eddie has a story on his own #911 ABC

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wrinkly-fucking-qtip · 6 months ago

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Gallavich Headcanon (almost a meta): Ian and Mickey befriend a Hispanic old lady with a family-owned flower shop [Pt. 1/3]

So I created these scenarios in my head... if someone wants to write a fic about it, better than I could. But, after receiving that awful treatment from the old lady at the shop in 10x11, I believe Ian and Mickey (especially Mickey) deserve a nice old lady that sells flowers and just... bonds with them y'know?

I don't have it all figured out, but they're at Southside again at this point. I'm part of the club that believes they don't stay in the west side forever. In my head (fuck the felony) Ian is either nurse, EMT again, whatever, something in that area, not working with Mick anymore. Although, Mick's business is thriving so much cause our boy gots the smarts for business.

Basically, it's Mick going in this shop, defenses a little high up. He no longer cares that much if people in the Southside are blatantly homophobic, like, it takes a while now to ruffle his feathers with beautiful wisdom coming down on him. But y'know, something about old ladies in a flower shop, am I right? He's buying flowers for Ian (part of some stupid dynamic or inside joke, don't know, but he's being traditionally husbandly right now) and he's looking for bright candid ones, warm colors, as warm as his ginger husband.

The old lady catches sight of him, and with this very thick Puerto Rican accent trying to dance around a broken English, she just greets him and asks him if he's looking for anything in particular. Mick... loosens up? Not much... but he feels it. She seems warm, safe. Nice. He just mentions "warm toned flowers," something fiery, but delicate. Pretty. He mindlessly points at the color of a table top close to them. Important to know that he uses his left hand, so that ring is oh-so visible.

She goes something along the lines of "Oh! You buy something for your señora? Esto, the wife?" I will forever die on the hill that Mickey does know Spanish, not that the lady knows this, but, y'know, she's Hispanic, some Spanish words go along the way. He looks at his ring and considers if he should say.

"No, uh, husband- actually."

This old lady doesn't light up, but she doesn't react badly... just... carries the conversation as if the sky continues to look blue. "Ohh! Ok, ok, show me picture then! I can make suggestion if I see what he look like, or what he dress like." And she sounds earnest, which, frankly, took him aback. Mickey kind of eyes her questioningly, perhaps she runs with a user persona? Mix match appearance with potential products?

Anyway, he proceeds, shows him a selfie with him, and a mid shot he took without Ian knowing. She eyes the pics for a few seconds and she just excitedly raises her voice, Mick still trying to get adjusted to it all, she tells him she understands why the warm colors and stuff, cause this husband is a ginger. She walks him through the selections and he ends up picking a bouquet, one along the lines of a warm cinnamon spice.

They have a lovely goodbye exchange, Mick still somewhat serious but kind, this old lady oozes warmth. She invites him to come back whenever, maybe even bring the husband along. He nods goodbye. He tells Ian all about it, surprising him first obviously, but he shares this... odd interaction he had today... and how... nice? It felt?? He's still trying to figure it out... Ian thanks him for the flowers, they have a lovely evening together. Life is good he thinks, perhaps.

It's Ian's turn now, he just has to meet this old lady. He goes in, and he finds the place, the old lady is behind the counter, so she has sight towards the door. She greets him, and he has the pleasure to hear her accent. And she's just so bubbly, he comes to her, trying to bite down a grin. Ian, not being much about the flower guy, yet (but loves receiving them 🙄) he asks for the stargazer lillies, the lady puts a dramatically sad face and tells him she's out of stock, as soon as the came, they left.

A little disappointed, ofc, but he still goes and asks for other options similar. Ian has his hands on his pockets, but the lady asks "what's the occasion?" And he says, "Husband" and with a stammer "Um, Mickey? You might've- uh... Met him? A week back...? Black hair, blue eyes... Short?" The lady is truly trying to recall, and then she brightens up. Not only cause she remembered Mick, but because she just realized he's the guy in the pic! And oh how she glees.

She walks through the options, he buys a bouquet, gains a lovely interaction, and he finally understands Mick when he says something about this old lady just feels... warm... at ease.

This wouldn't be the last time they visit.

And they actually gather quite the like to her.

#mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #shameless #shameless us #shameless tv #shameless meta #gallavich meta #gallavich headcanons #shameless headcanon #post canon #mickey and his flowers

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miracles-and-butterflies · 1 year ago

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For @ellipsis-dotdotdot, based on the prompt: “one of the Pedro Lives!Isabelas running away, if you please?”

I went with Fracture AU.

Isabela plans to run away. Thoughts of identity, change and freedom.

(As she’s kicked out anyways in Imperfect, her disappearance wouldn’t be noticed; and Luminous Isabela would be very open about it and that takes away the drama).

Comments are always appreciated.

~~~~~~

Perfect Practiced Poses

While flittering around Antonio’s party, one question pops into her mind.

She had passed a group of kids talking, describing each of the gifted Madrigals - their traits and abilities - only for Isabela to wonder the same thing.

Of course, living in the family and outside of it warrant very different viewpoints from herself and the kids. And then there’s the age and education differences too. But one thing remains the same:

Who is Isabela Madrigal?

She was never herself for more than two minutes.

She was everyone else on a daily basis. It was brief, it was harmless, it was helpful, it was fun. And she didn’t mind that.

She was the echo of her late Abuela. As far as appearance was considered. She was the only resemblance of her left - Isabela had destroyed the one portrait years ago.

Despite their strained relationship, Abuelo often had her painted or photographed. Just so he had something to remember his beloved Alma by.

At the same time, he had her shapeshifting as much as possible. Not only while working, but even just at home. Just so he didn’t have to have a reminder of what he’d lost. Just so he didn’t have to see her face of anger and hatred.

And she did mind that.

Not at first. No, she could understand. If she lost a loved one, it would be hard for her too. And she was a child, who didn’t look to much like her at that point.

But as she got older and her sympathy for such a terrible person wore incredibly thin, she really started to mind.

Why are the Madrigals always going to church with Señora Alonso?

How lucky for Señorita Martinez to be invited to dinner at La Casa Madrigal!

It is so considerate of Isabela to change her appearance for her poor Abuelo!

The whisperings of the townspeople didn’t help either. She knows they mean well. To an outsider, it must be strange or compassionate (that Pedro does not deserve).

She is so sick of it.

She’d do anything to put an end to it.

~~~~~~

It was a day like any other.

“Okay, everyone to the table. Now.” Abuelo called as he stepped outside. The family fell into line as usual. Or most of them, anyways. “I said now, Luisa.”

“Ah well, I was just—”

“Now means now.”

Luisa stopped talking and took her seat with the others.

“You aren’t still making stuff up about the cracks?” Camilo whispered, leaning up to his cousin. “Like it was a good joke and seeing Abuelo yell at Mirabel was utterly hilarious - highlight of the evening if you ask me - but it’s kinda dry now.”

“Will you two shut up? I can’t hear.” Isabela, who was unfortunately sat on Camilo’s other side, grumbled.

“I wasn’t even talking!”

“LUISA!”

Her sister slowly turned around, eye-twitching under the confused and irritated gazes of the rest of the family from her outburst.

Abuelo sighed with disappointment. “Luisa, if you are struggling to act properly at the table, perhaps it is best you sit closer to the front, where I can keep an eye on you. Casita?”

Before Luisa could make an argument, Casita shifted her chair. The seating plan rearranging itself to leave her directly beside the patriarch.

“As I was saying,” he said. “Antonio’s gift could not have come at a more perfect time. But we should not take our miracle for granted, so today we will work twice as hard.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” offered an enthusiastic Luisa. “Isabela would benefit greatly from my—”

“In case it wasn’t clear for some of us, the non-gifted family members will be staying at home to complete their usual chores.”

With a hard glare, Luisa changed her focus onto drinking her coffee.

Pedro took a breath, standing up. “In other news, how goes our arrangement with the Guzmáns?”

Isabela opens her mouth, but doesn’t get the chance to answer herself.

“Dolores?” He inquired.

The woman paused. Her irises briefly flashed red. “I foresee that he is going to propose tonight, with a song on the piano that he has composed himself. And I see five cribs.”

Isabela felt her soul leave her body.

“Five new blessings? At least we’ll get some use out of Isabela. Thank you, Dolores. That will be all. There will be lots to prepare for tonight - Isabela, you’ve dropped your form. Control yourself. …Back to the point, Antonio, this is a wonderful opportunity to make the most out of your new gift. You can help your father with the decorations.”

“Okay, Abuelo!” Antonio beamed, orange flowers blossoming in hair in excitement.

“Our community is counting on us. ¡La familia Madrigal!”

“¡La familia Madrigal!”

Isabela doesn’t blame Mariano.

Not at all.

She blames her family.

She gets made to hold some random townsperson’s form at every meal - she isn’t allowed to be herself - and nobody has defended her or pointed out this unreasonable request of Abuelo’s.

She is getting made to marry and produce more little miracles because she isn’t useful at anything else, and nobody has thought to ask how she feels about it all.

Hell, Pedro has her valued like a donkey at market and nobody is even batting an eye!

The bitter irony is not lost on Isabela.

Her parents are always praised, both inside the family and out, by what great parents they are.

The greatest parents of all of Encanto… One daughter who is only useful as a wife and mother or when she’s anyone but herself. One daughter who has absolutely no worth at all. One daughter who barely associates herself as part of the family now.

This house is a fucking nightmare.

No wonder Bruno left.

~~~~~~

January 1940

“What do you think would happen if we left?”

The question takes her sister by shock.

The eight-year-old arched a brow. “You mean like… running away? Like Tío Bruno did?”

“Luisa, you aren’t suppose to say that!” Mirabel gasped in horror, replicating the shushing motion the adults often did by pressing a finger to Luisa’s lips.

“Yeah,” Isabela nodded. She looked up at the mountains. “When I’m suppose to be listening to the teacher, I think about it. What I’d take. How I’d do it. Where I’d go. …Don’t you ever think of just packing a bag and running away?”

“No! You can’t do that! You’d be in so much trouble!” Mirabel was completely appalled. Age four and her moral compass was already developed.

“You’d die, sis.” Chimes Luisa. “Nobody knows what’s out there - except bad people. That’s how Abuela died.”

“Not even just running away… what if we were just a normal family? Without gifts?”

Luisa shifted away.

“You’re asking the wrong people, Bela. I am normal and Mirabel doesn’t have a gift yet.”

The ten-year-old looked guilty. “Right. My bad. I forgot.”

“You forgot?” Luisa questions, hurt.

Nobody said anything.

“Say sorry, Isa,” Mirabel offers, helpfully, from where she’s sat in Luisa’s lap. “Sorry makes everything better. That’s what Mama says.”

“…Luisa, I’m—”

“No. I don’t wanna hear it.” Luisa grumbled.

Luisa stands up then, setting Mirabel aside.

“Where are you going?” Isabela asks, after a beat.

“Inside,” she huffs. “I got homework to do.” Isabela has a feeling that Luisa might be lying; just wants an excuse to leave.

Mirabel squeaked, “Can I come too? Can I help, Luisa?”

Luisa nods, holding out an open hand for Mirabel to take. They start walking.

Isabela pulls herself to her feet and runs after them. “I could help,” she suggests, as a way of an apology. And she’d like to think she is going to be more help than a kid who hasn’t yet started school. “I mean, I probably did it a few years ago, when I was your age.”

Her sister just growls at her. “Don’t you have magic stuff to be doing, princesa?”

With that, they were gone and Isabela was left alone.

She really doesn’t belong anywhere, does she?

~~~~~~

Screw it, Isabela thinks.

There’s nothing for her here.

And if Bruno managed to leave, why couldn’t she do the same?

She packs a bag - money, some clothes, some food and drinks. She won’t need much else.

She shifts into some random townsperson before leaving her (soundproof) room for the last time. The rest of the family are busy working, as usual.

And starts walking. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but anything would be better than here.

She barely makes it through one street before a man is already coming to greet her.

“Ah, Isabela! I was wondering if you could help me with my door again?” He asked. “It appears to have gotten stuck and I could use another me to help balance it.”

“I’m not Isabela.” She replied, waving him off.

“Uh… yes, you are?”

Isabela turned on her heel, ready to argue that she definitely was Señora Alonzo, but only caught that flash of indigo fabric and black hair as she did.

“What the fuck?” She questioned, looking down at her own hands.

She hadn’t changed back into her own form.

She headed up to the nearby bride, dropping her bag to the side for a moment. She leaned over and looking at her own rippled reflection in the water.

“What the fuck!?” She said again, louder this time.

She kept repeating the phrase as she tried concentrating on shifting but her reflection didn’t change once. It stayed perfectly the same.

She couldn’t even get rid of her mole.

Her outburst had clearly spooked off the man who had asked for her help, as she found herself alone. Carefully examining and prodding each part of her features, only for nothing to change.

Or she thought she was alone.

“Hey, Isabela! Am I glad I found you! I was just wondering if you maybe knew something about the magic last night?”

#encanto #encanto fracture au #isabela madrigal #luisa madrigal #pedro madrigal #camilo madrigal #dolores madrigal #antonio madrigal #bruno madrigal #mirabel madrigal #julieta madrigal #agustín madrigal #mariano guzmán #my writing

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cannibalthoughts · 1 year ago

Text

Pezmuerto’s “Goldfish”

[ID: Señora Pezmuerto during We Don’t Talk About Bruno, carrying a fishbowl containing nothing but water and a dead goldfish. End ID.]

Problem: goldfish aren't native to Colombia, so either there's an invasive species in the river, someone brought a pet goldfish to the Encanto and it survived the journey, or Pezmuerto didn't have a goldfish.

Since WDTAB happens in Mirabel Vision TM, the visual details like the dead fish's species and Pezmuerto carrying it in a fishbowl are suggestions instead of solid canon. I’m picking option three: she had some other kind of fish.

[ID: Bruno sitting on the floor of Antonio’s bedroom, hunched over and wiggling his fingers in front of him while saying, “Oh, he’s creepy and his vision killed my goldfish.” End ID.]

The thing about this line is that “goldfish” is a really natural thing to call a fish. That’s in Spanish, too; one of the names for goldfish in Spanish (the main name on the Wikipedia page) is “pez dorado.” Exact same thing.

And why should anyone in the Encanto reserve that description for a species of fish that doesn’t live there? This is an isolated town where no one can visit an aquarium or zoo, or see unfamiliar animals on TV. Unless someone happens to have brought goldfish artwork or an illustrated book about aquarium fish with them when they arrived in the Encanto, there’s a good chance a lot of people don’t know what a goldfish looks like.* Wide open linguistic space for them to look at a gold fish and go, “Well. That’s a gold fish.”

(In the Spanish subs, the line is "Bruno provoca cosas malas. Es rarito y su visión mató a mi pez," which doesn't specify the type of fish at all.)

Also: maybe Bruno’s just really bad at IDing fish. “All fish are the same” says man with several dozen rats he swears aren’t identical.

Anyway, I looked up gold fish that could be native to Encanto’s waters.

The Encanto is formed beside the bank of a river based on the real Caño Cristales, which is a tributary of the Guayabero River, so I decided to base the river life off of that.

Option A: Leporinus boehlkei, from page 155 of this book on Research Gate about biodiversity in Meta:

[ID: Labeled photo of a Leporinus boehlkei fish. It is long and narrow, gold with black spots. Its pectoral, pelvic, and anal fins are mostly yellow and its dorsal fins and tail are mostly clear. End ID.]

Leporinus boehlkei is endemic to Colombia, lives in streams and mid-sized tributaries like we see present in the Encanto, and was only named as an independent species distinct from other Leporinus in 1988. I thought the last bit was interesting because it opens a window for an unfortunately named fish enthusiast to find one and get excited because it looks different from the fish most similar to it. It’s about 6-19 cm long, which is reasonable for a pet fish. I didn’t find much behavioral information, but other members of the genus are omnivorous and adapt well to fish food. Which leads to:

Option B: Leporinus fasciatus, which the Encanto residents would call a mije.

[ID: A Leporinus fasciatus in an aquarium tank. It is long and narrow, bright yellow that tints orange-gold toward its head and thick black bands. Its fins are a mix of yellow and gray. End ID.]

It grows up to 30 cm but reaches maturity at half that, native (but not endemic) to Colombia and present in the Guayabero River specifically, and it’s somewhat popular as an aquarium fish because of its coloration, its adaptability to fish food, and its ability to be kept in a tank with other fish. (Popular enough that it became an invasive species in Florida and, in the past, Hawai’i.) Also, it can jump when startled and needs to be kept in a tank with a strong lid, which is A Quality in a fish that’s doomed by the narrative. Bonus: it’s very easy to take mije and switch to very fondly calling a fish mija/mijo.

---

* Since Mirabel Vision TM does depict a goldfish, I actually think it would be fun if someone did have some sentimental goldfish art. They show it to Mirabel, who is demonstrably good at getting emotional stories out of people. They don’t show it to Bruno, because he’s Bruno.

#Shoutout to slingerapen who pointed out goldfish aren't native to Colombia and is the reason this post exists #If you're thinking of using one of your free JSTOR articles on that 1988 Garavello paper please be advised it's mostly fish math

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igetthedisneybox · 2 days ago

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Out of those who married into the family/are currently dating family members, who has Alma approved of and who has she not?

What won her over on the ones she didn't approve of?

I think it's pretty much canon at this point that she didn't care for Augustín at first, and in my opinion, still wasn't super fond of him until the end of Encanto, because I feel like he was the only family member who looked at the family's dynamics and said "yeah, I'm not gonna do that." After the movie, they get along much better, and even share some common interests.

Alma did like Félix, and I think a part of that is because he can calm Pepa down and keep her happy (most of the time). The other part of it is that Félix is incredibly charismatic, and probably turned the charm up to eleven whenever he was around his crush's mother.

As for Bruno's wife, Alma didn't trust Alejandra at first for a few reasons. The main one being that she was an Outsider to the Encanto. The (very true) rumors that she killed her last husband also didn't help. Once Alejandra explained the situation to Alma, their relationship got much better, and Alma even admires her a little bit, for her dedication to protecting her daughter.

She doesn't entirely understand Isabela's choice to stay single, but she does support her in it. After all, many people never understood why Alma never remarried after Pedro's death.

She loves Mariano for Dolores, of course. I think her choosing him is a mix of her friendship with Señora Guzmán, and wanting her granddaughter to have a husband who's genuinely kind and poetic, but is strong enough to protect her and their family (like Pedro).

Alma likes Juana for the same reasons she likes Félix. She's charismatic, and has been a great help in keeping Luisa relaxed. They do however butt heads over a quite a few things. Juana is very opinionated, and makes her opinions known, even if it rattles some cages. Their relationship is reminiscent of her and Augustín before Encanto.

Alma just straight up adores Marcos from the get go. She thinks his calm, shy personality meshes well with Camilo's exuberance. She also knows what it's like to lose people, and so relates to Marcos being an orphan.

Alma is very mixed on Bubo. On the one hand, she can see his dedication to Mirabel and the family, and appreciates him for it. On the other hand, she finds his odd quirks and manerisms offputing at times. She's getting used to it, though. Their relationship is once again similar to hers and Augustín's.

She adores Amelia and Rosana together. Rosana is very spunky, but polite, and respects authority (in front of the adults, at least), and she thinks they match very well. She's a bit pushy with them and their future marriage, but nowhere near as bad as she was with Isabela.

Alma doesn't mind Tristán, she's just worried that he's just using Sofía for her gift. She knew his parents and grandparents, and was sad when they died, but she doesn't want him to break Sofía's heart when he's done grieving.

She's...fine with Dante, Leta's boyfriend. He's basically the Encanto equivalent of a stoner dude, so he's very chill and nice, and Alma can't quite fault him for that. She's honestly just glad that Leta's passionate about something that isn't yeeting herself off cliffs.

Alma is slightly disapproving of Felicidad for Fuega, just because she's a bit of a rebel, and doesn't like taking orders, but does like them as a couple, since Felicidad isn't scared of poor Fuega's gift. And since Felicidad is an Encanto native, Alma's known her family for years, and trusts them.

She thinks that Isaac is adorable, and is rooting for him and Andrés. She finds it sweet that he has a crush on someone who understands his shyness.

#encanto next gen #encanto oc #encanto original character #encanto next generation

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kidresearcherindigo · 2 months ago

Text

Day late again Oops. This didn't go as planned but tbh it's soooooo much better than I could've hoped for!

[Video ID - Indigo holding up an ancien5 scroll to the camera with sketches of various unown on it. Like this:

The camera zoomed in on the scroll. Nemona'a voice can be geard from behind the camera.

"What does it say?" she asked, "I'm not good with reading unown symbols."

As the camera zoomed out, Indigo grinned as they rolled up the scroll. "You'll find out! Now c'mon!"

They walked down the hall with the camera walking alongside them. The camera briefly switched to selfie mode to show Nemona herself as she leaned into Indigo with an excited grin before switching back to the outer camera.

Raifort was seen coming their way, talking with a student who had their face blurred out in the video.

Indigo waved to Raifort. "Oh, Señora Raifort," they said, "I've been looking for you!"

"Oh?" Raifort raised an eyebrow, watching as Indigo picked up the pace to meet with her.

"You remember the lesson you did on Unown's influence in written language?" Asked Indigo.

The other student seemed to notice the camera and slowly pulled a hood over their head. Once their face was mostly covered, the blur filter over their face disappeared to reveal that the student was none other than Atticus of Team Star.

"Why yes, I remember," said Raifort, "Were there any questions you had about that lesson?"

"Yeah, I um... I actually found this," explained Indigo, as they held the rolled up scroll to Raifort. "It was in some boxes in my mom's closet. Found it while we were cleaning it out. Thought you might be interested."

At first, Raifort's eyes lit up before noticing the camera. She gave it a smirk, before holding out her hand to Indigo. "May I?" She asked.

Indigo nodded and handed her the scroll.

Raifort opened it up, raising an eyebrow as she skimmed through it for a split second. "Hm, yes, quite fascinating," she said with a sage nod.

"Well? What does it say??" Asked Nemona, with anticipation.

Raifort turned to Atticus. "Atticus, would you like to do the honors?" She asked, "I know you've been practicing rather diligently to read and write Unown scripture."

"t'would be the highest honor," said Atticus, holding a hand on his chest. "I shall do my best to read it with the prophetic grandure that this ancient scripture truly deserves."

Upon being handed the scroll rolled up scrolm, Atticus cleared his throat and held his arms up in the air. "Gather 'round, all ye who wish to bear witness to ancient wisdom, once forgotten and now resurfaced!"

Nearby students started gathering around, accompanied with an ensemble of confused murmurs.

"Fellow students," Atticus announced, "My dear friend Indigo hath uncovered an ancient secret of their ancestors!"

There were more murmurs from the crowd as several students realized where this might be going.

"Indigo!" Atticus turned to Indigo. "Do I have thy consent to reveal the contents of this sacred scroll?"

"Yeah man," said Indigo, snickering quietly, "Go for it!"

Atticus opened the scroll and cleared his throat.

"They say a pure heart is forever corrupted," He read, "That to stay pure, one must stay true from the start!"

"HOWEVER!" Atticus exclaimed, holding an index finger in the air. "There is one power said to fix thine corruption for the rest of thine days!"

"And THAT!" Atticus looked over the crowd of students, dead quiet in suspense, before returning to the scroll. "Is the power of GAY, GAY, HOMOSEXUAL GAY!"

The crowd of students all cheered in applause as Indigo doubled over wheezing. Nemona could just barely be heard laughing as well, before the camera panned to her feet and cut off.

VIDEO END]

#Treasured Tomfoolery #arc: The Business of Smiles #NarUva Life #pokeblogging #rotomblr #pokemon irl #pkmn irl

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gold-rhine · 1 year ago

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All señora 1,2,3,24 :D

Ask game

1.My first impression of them

i was immediately intrigued by her, bc while she acted unapologetically like a villain, she was so like... disgusted by venti in v specific sense that i couldn't make sense of before i learned her story. like it was clear they haven't met before, but her anger felt so personal for her, and when she fucking drop-kicked venti it was like whoa wait what, i think its the most like physical and graphic in like realistic sense that isn't fighting giant robots brutal punch in the game. so i immediately wanted to know what is up with her.

and when like you learn the context, that she was from Mond and used to pray to him and watched her loved ones die and country burn without protection from him, and now she's mortal, but she's stronger than the god that she once begged for help and like. this sense of her looking at him and being like "*this* is what i once worshipped? this is what people are still praying to?" and being just disgusted by the lies of godhood. its like. mwah. ur right queen, he deserved this

2.When I think I truly started to like them (or dislike them, if you've sent me a character I don't like)

When I learned her backstory, which btw I think its criminal that hoyo never actually dramatized in game. Like I get that they're going for dark souls lore-buried-item-descriptions shit, and it works in genshin SOMETIMES, like with liyue, but Signora is an example when it clearly didn't work. they should've done it like they did scara, his backstory first was also released in bits and pieces and hints in artifact descriptions, but then they've also dramatized and expanded it in animation and like, it's a shame they just dropped signora with nothing, so most of the players don't even know about her backstory and why she became a crimson witch. ugh.

but also like what really sold me was contrast between her and raiden, where raiden was woobified into absolutely pathetic waifu state, and signora died unbroken and proud, saying "I never asked for forgiveness". Queen shit >>>>>>>>>>

they couldn't redeem her bc redemption implies realizing you were wrong and she was right, so they killed her

3.A song that reminds me of them

Lola Blanc "Angry Too"

Does it get your blood boiling? Does it make you see red? Do you wanna destroy it? Does it get in your head? 'Cause it gets my blood boiling, and I'm coming unglued It would hit you like poison if you knew what I knew You would be angry too

I'm seeing through crimson sunglasses I'm breathing and counting to ten I guess I'm fresh out of free passes, they'll pay if it happens again

And I don't wanna drink the venom they made me I don't wanna be controlled by the past Boy if you were me, could you really blame me? Would make you crazy

and "Paint It Black", but performed by Ciara, bc it has the right dignified villain vibes

#rhine talks

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mirrorofliterature · 2 years ago

Text

time for a little resurrection

AO3

héctor rivera is dead, and then he is alive.

life does not normally work like that. you die: you stay dead. but in 1946, a year after world war two finally fell to an uncomfortable hush, it does.

did you die young and tragically, maybe alone in a city far from home and abandoned by your oldest friend? maybe you will be resurrected into a foreign world, still alone but warm. maybe. the world brims with them, possibilities. tragedies.

héctor rivera has not been warm for twenty-five years, but suddenly - suddenly, he is.

he wakes up, lost and confused and disorientated and still alone. mexico city is brighter, brighter, brighter. but still - not home, if that still exists.

for twenty-five years, héctor has not been alone, exactly, but he has been lonely. for twenty-five years, he has had great friends but hadn’t let them get too close. for twenty-five years, he has known nothing about his family except that they were not dead.

ernesto had not been much help, when he died. ernesto has not spoken to héctor since the day he died, and héctor - doesn’t understand, but it hurts, aches, throbs.

back to the present: cold, alone, but somehow alive.

and not alone for long.

see, héctor rivera is not the first person to be resurrected from the dead, and he will not be the last. a system of sorts has been set up - haphazard and imperfect, but a system. so, when a government official finds héctor, alone and wearing a patchy blush mariachi suit, he is not surprised, and he knows what to do.

so héctor ends up on a train to santa cecilia, bewildered and confused and excited and -

emotions so vivid and numerous, he cannot put his feelings into words.

imelda has heard whispers about the recently resurrected dead, but that’s all she thought they were - whispers, built on grief and longing. people do not come back to life. except when they do.

she does not expect anything.

no one does, not even those who have long mourned their youthful dead, let alone those who never knew there were dead to mourn.

she doesn’t think it’s real. why would she?

but it is real. very much so.

héctor rivera arrives in santa cecilia at dusk, the taste of dust still lingering in his mouth.

he thinks he is dreaming. nothing else makes much sense - the police officer who had assisted him was distracted and careless, putting him onto a train and leaving him alone.

it will all work out, he had said.

not that héctor is not used to being alone, now. loneliness is a common bedfellow.

héctor swallowed as the train pulled in, bereft of everything but the clothes on his back, threadbare as they are.

everything has changed, and simultaneously nothing has. it all feels -

unreal.

he gets off the train, the wind pulling at his hair, icy cold. the lights have changed, become slimmer, sleeker.

héctor scrubs at his face. this has been his dream for decades, but yet -

that is all it must remain, a dream, intangible and unachievable.

héctor steps off the station, onto the bench.

if this were a true dream, a fantasy, he would walk home, back to his family -

what family?

héctor isn’t naive. foolish, a hopeless romantic, a devout, maybe, but not naive.

twenty-five years have passed without news. families don’t forget for a reason. his bones have never strengthened, only weakened.

does he have a family left? did anyone ever love him, or is he nothing but dust and bones?

‘señor?’

he turns, mariachi suit whistling in the wind.

a woman with a basket, holding the hand of a little girl. he swallows. it’s all too reminiscent of a life forever lost to him.

‘I -’

‘do you need help?’

‘ah, señora. no, gracias. just… resurrected life.’ an awkward smile, hoping that she would write him off and leave him alone to him and his tragedy.

the woman pauses, looks at the little girl, who cannot be more than five, hair tied up in a little bun.

‘resurrected? like from the dead? I read it in the paper, but it sounded like a fantasy.’

héctor shrugs. ‘I guess it’s not a fantasy.’ he wants to swing his legs like a petulant child, but doesn’t.

he is fourty-six-years-old, twenty-one-year-old. time isn’t real, no longer has any meaning.

she tuts. ‘and they just sent you here!’

‘I lived here, once.’

she tuts again. ‘still, that’s not very kind. do you have somewhere to stay?’

héctor thinks of imelda, of coco, of his family.

he remembers that imelda never put up his foto.

he shakes his head. ‘no,’ he says, letting the silence swell.

none of this is real, anyway.

‘come stay with me,’ the woman offers, ‘my name is rosita, and this is mi sobrina, victoria.’

héctor looks down at his patchy points. ‘I’m héctor,’ he says, ‘and thanks.’

it is not like he has any other options. this will all be banished to forgetfulness soon, anyway. nothing is real.

what héctor doesn’t realise: that this is all very real, that imelda still does not know he is dead, and that victoria is his granddaughter.

but being raised from the dead, it turns out, shakes loose a few secrets.

#coco au #coco canon divergence #canon divergence #my fic #hector rivera #also on ao3!#coco pixar

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achitka · 1 year ago

Text

Doors: Chapter 42

Tío José

There are some curious folks headed toward the Encanto. Camilo does more recon, Mirabel is stuck on a cart, Antonio does not like writing, Isabela doesn't know her own strength, Bubo finally wakes up and stay away from Miguel… he's creepier than I anticipated. No, really they're gonna make it back to town soon, I swear.

Alma sat between her daughters as the group of women discussed where and how they would house all the newcomers. There hadn’t been a group this large up to now. Usually, it was small family groups, such as Doris’s. She, Inez and the children were settling into a home that had been recently vacated. The family that lived there had moved to a larger home closer to the school. Doris was a little surprised, she was expecting they would be staying outdoors. Inez was delighted to have a roof over their heads after so long, and the children were excited at the prospect of going to school. The school had been shut down after the outbreak and was scheduled to reopen tomorrow.

Señora Aguilar was asking a question, but Alma wasn’t actually listening; her mind was on the information Dolores gave her and her daughters as she’d walked to the meeting. Dolores’s update of what was happening on the mountain, included her grandchildren’s speculation that the older woman may be related to her. She was not sure why this made her more than a little fearful and nervous. While the prospect of one of her sisters being alive was a good thing, at the same time she realized that she’d not seen anyone from her family for over fifty years.

Alma had forgotten the details of the dream that had awakened her, and she thought of the night when the magic returned. Bruno’s first sponty and how sure he was that whoever the woman he saw was; it was not her, but someone who looked a lot like her. Since the founding of the Encanto, she never thought it would be possible to find them. With three babies and a town to run, she had put that out of her mind.

She glanced out the window and saw Isabela and Tuli making their way up the road. She remembered then that Isabela was going to be working on the Jimenez farm near the edge of town. Isa had been working on strengthening the cassava crop this farmer had planted because the plants seemed off to the farmer’s wife. Tuli walked next to Isabela, holding her straw hat behind her. Skipping along, and she looked, for the moment, to be at ease. Alma had told Tuli that she could stay in the Encanto if Bubo did, she meant that. It would all come down to whether their Tío would allow it. Still, that was a worry for later and Alma was pulled out of her musings when Pepa lightly touched her hand and asked, “Mamá, you okay?”

Alma nodded and looked around. She realized she had no idea what anyone had said for the past half hour. Pepa picked up on her confusion and asked, “So you agree that the new folks will be housed on the fútbol field near the edge of town?”

Alma again nodded and added, “Yes, that would be best suited if we still have all the tents and equipment.”

“Most of those items were stored in the old shoe shop,” Sylvia Guzmán said, then turned to Julieta and asked, “How long does Dolores think it will be before they arrive in the town proper?”

“They’ve only just started back, so we’ll have at least three or four hours,” Julieta said as she rose, “Okay ladies, let’s go. The time will pass quickly, I’m sure, and we have a lot to get done,”

It made Alma happy that no one questioned Julieta's authority, as they all got up and collected the items they’d brought with them. Even the younger women were doing their part this time. Since the women outnumbered the men in the Encanto, Alma was not surprised. There were potential new unmarried men out there.

Alma put a hand on Pepa’s arm to keep her there and waited for the room to clear out. Julieta already knew what was happening because she’d spoken to the Doctor directly. She reminded Alma this morning that she needed to tell Pepa what was happening and to have a little more faith that Pepa would handle the news well. Alma had to admit a lot had changed with her middle child since the breaking. Pepa was far calmer and more in control of her Gift in a way that Alma had previously thought was not possible.

Julieta was the last one out and smiled at them encouragingly as she pulled the door closed. Alma took a deep breath, she’d put this conversation off for weeks, but it was clear to her that she needed to stop holding things in. She thought back to the time before the Gifts and how Pepa’s joy had always helped lift the shadow from her heart. Always her little ray of sunshine. Since the breaking, Pepa was once again full of joy as she watched her babies grow. Alma knew she needed to learn better to ask for help when she needed it and said, “Pepa, I’m sure you noticed that since my illness, I’ve been trying to do less these past few weeks.”

Pepa nodded and though she had already developed a cloud, there was no rain as she asked, “Is your health okay?”

“Yes,” Alma said with a smile as she took one of Pepa’s hands, “Right now I am fine, mi vida; however, I want you to be aware of what I am potentially facing and why I will be relying on you and your siblings more from now on,” There was no easy way to say this, so Alma again took a breath and said, “The Doctor says there is a problem with my heart.”

“What sort of problem?”

“He called it a heart murmur,” Alma paused when it started to drizzle. Pepa blew at the cloud, it dissipated, so Alma continued, “That means my heart does not always beat as it should, and he told me that if I wish to be around to see all of my nietos grow up, I need to take a step back from some of my usual responsibilities.”

Pepa nodded and asked as a new cloud formed, “How can I help, Mamá?”

“Well, you have been after me for quite some time to give you more stories for the family scrapbook you have been working on,” Alma paused as Pepa squeezed her hand, “now that things will be, hopefully settling down, I want to help you with that, if I can.”

“That would be wonderful, Mamá,” Pepa said and picked up the umbrella she had with her. She popped it open, and Alma heard the light rain Pepa had stopped before as it began to fall again, this time interspersed with some hail.

“To begin, I want to meet with you and your siblings at that yellow door at lunchtime tomorrow.”

“Did you remember something?” Pepa leaned in, her excitement causing a brief increase in the hail’s intensity.

The happiness Alma had felt the night before, again crept in, and she said, “Yes, but… ” and she held up a hand, “tomorrow, Pepita. I want all three of you to be there when I tell you.”

There was a quiet roll of thunder and Alma could not help but smile. Pepa shrugged as she let out a short laugh and said, “Okay, Mamá, tomorrow it is… at noon.” Her rain stopped, so she closed the umbrella, and together they got up to join the other women.

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

Camilo was headed to where Bubo’s Tío was standing when he paused and nudged Mariano, who was watching the people as they started to drift toward Mira. It amazed him that Mirabel never seemed to notice it happening. Mariano looked where Camilo indicated, and he too noticed Bubo leaning against a tree with his eyes closed. He’d never seen someone able to sleep standing up like that. Camilo’s Mamí had told him why Bubo was staying over last night, and both he and Mariano had seen Bubo stumble once or twice on the trip here. It was very evident he’d just not gotten enough sleep the night before. Mariano nodded, walked over and poked Bubo awake. He took him aside, at which point Bubo yawned mightily and rubbed his eyes. Mariano then bent nearer and said something that made Bubo shake his head. Mariano poked his arm and said something else. Bubo rolled his eyes but nodded. Together, they walked over to the cart where Luisa and Mirabel were. There was a brief exchange, then Bubo climbed into the cart and if Camilo didn’t know better, fell immediately asleep.

Mariano returned and said, “Well, that was easier than expected. Anyway, Camilo, do you think Dolores would like pastries?”

“What’s a pastries?” Camilo asked as the whole group began to follow the cart Luisa had placed Mirabel on.

“Fancy French desserts,” Mariano replied.

“Oh, probably. Dolores definitely has a sweet tooth.”

Mariano nodded, then asked, “What about Isabela?”

“I have no idea. You should probably ask Luisa or Mirabel that one.”

“Yes, okay then I’ll talk to you later,” and Mariano went back over and started speaking to Luisa.

Camilo watched him go and realized the more he got to know Mariano, the more he found that he actually liked the guy. All the time he’d spent mocking him because of Isabela’s supposed relationship had left Camilo believing the stuff he’d always heard. Mariano Guzmán was a big dumb hunk. He supposed he should not be surprised that his sister easily saw past the label he’d been stuck with since school. Now that Dolores was going to marry that guy, they’d be cuñados. Antonio already thought Mariano was loads of fun, since before the magic came back he’d been quite willing to carry his little brother on his shoulders all over town when Dolores was looking after him. Probably still would, but Parce was stiff competition.

“Excuse me, Señor Madrigal, do you have a moment?” Camilo turned and was surprised to find Old Arturo next to him with another of the group of newcomers. Something weird was going on. Arturo had never referred to him as Señor anything. Read the room, he thought and responded, “Yes, Señor Sanchez, how can I help you?”

Arturo quirked a smile and said, “I’d like you to meet Señor Rodriguez. It seems he was a science teacher in Bogotá. I had mentioned that you would be working at the school. He wanted to ask you some questions regarding that.”

Camilo found that odd as well. He’d only just been accepted as an apprentice there. Arturo knew that, so Camilo nodded. Arturo moved off and, at the same time, guided Señora Vargas toward someone else. Camilo could see that Arturo was purposefully not letting that woman anywhere near them, and was having fun using the woman’s ‘properness’ to do so. He’d seen him do that with Mariano’s mother occasionally, but it was more worrisome that Arturo felt he needed to do that. Still, Camilo trusted the old man’s instincts when it came to people’s intentions. He turned back to the man and noted he was at least as tall as his Papí, thin build, middle-aged, but had a thin face and a slant to his features that was borderline ugly. Would be a challenge to get that face right, Camilo thought, and had to resist an almost overwhelming urge to shift into a copy of the man, so asked, “We are quite proud of our school, just opened a larger one. What would you like to know, Señor Rodriguez?”

“Please, call me Miguel,” he replied and looked over his shoulder, “Only my students call me that.”

“Nice to meet you, Miguel. My name is Camilo.”

The man smiled and Camilo pulled back slightly, the smile did little to improve his looks and actually made him look creepy. Undeterred, Miguel leaned closer and asked, “José says you found his sobrino, Paola, and that they are currently in your town.” Camilo only nodded, so Miguel leaned even closer and continued, “Is it true you all believe that Paola is a girl?”

Camilo was not at all sure why this man wanted this information, but didn’t really like his tone. It made Camilo wonder what his actual motivations were and responded, “I’m not sure what it is you’re asking, Señor,” Camilo said, moving slightly back and glanced at José. He was nearby, still by himself, walking alone and looking thoughtful.

“I see,” Miguel said, “but you did not answer my question.”

“Nor will I,” Camilo said. He disliked where this was going and was now feeling more than a little irritated at this person and asked pointedly, “I thought you wanted to ask about the school?”

Miguel’s expression changed from clunky charm to one of apprehension, but he quickly stowed that, smiling once again, but the mask had slipped long enough for Camilo to decide he would tell him nothing regarding Tuli or the magic. Miguel said nothing, it was more than a little disturbing. The man remained silent as they walked, then suddenly turned back to the main party. Camilo watched as he made his way through the people and began speaking with Señora Vargas, who was now seated on the other cart. Bubo’s Tío was now very nearby and likely heard the exchange, and Camilo whispered, “Dol, some of this lot is full of potential trouble.”

(…Agreed... I’ll keep an ear on them…)

Camilo quickened his pace just a little until he was right next to Bubo’s Tío. José looked over and said, “I must apologize for my companions. They are a bit much sometimes.”

Camilo nodded, then asked, “Señor Márquez, may I ask you a question?”

“Only if I can ask one of you, Señor Madrigal.”

“Fair enough,” Camilo said, then asked, “How did you end up in charge of these people?”

José raised an eyebrow as he was probably expecting questions about Tuli, but he shrugged and said, “More of an accident. We came across their camp while my own group were attempting to track down my sobrino. Turns out they were refugees from Zipaquirá. Their houses had all been burned to the ground, and they were on the run. Since she ran a boarding house, the people with her thought Señora Vargas was best suited to lead them. Others from the group said she was leading them in circles. The other unfortunate person you met, Miguel, is her son. He is an unpleasant person, at best, and I would recommend you not give him or his mother information you do not want twisted and spread.” That certainly explained a few things Camilo thought. José continued, “They were very disorganized and on the verge of starvation, having run out of food and fresh water. We felt bad for the kids, so we decided to help them, and we only planned to stay with them long enough for them to get back on track. We were actually headed in the opposite direction when we ran into this one,” he said, and paused to pull a small notebook out of his pocket. He tapped it with his finger and continued, “Bubo gave me this. He said he got it from someone named Bruno. I know this belonged to the tracker because he was unusually protective of it. Now I know why. He claimed he’d seen a group of women with several children on the mountain where he lived and could lead us to them. He seemed very eager to help us and since we were short on leads at that point, we agreed.” Camilo nodded and José said, “So now to my question.”

“If I know, I’ll be happy to answer.”

José held up Santiago’s book and asked, “Do you know where this, Bruno, the man who owned this is?”

“Bruno? Oh no, Bruno is my Tío. The man who owned this, we believe his name was Santiago.”

“Santiago… that name does sound familiar… Is he in custody?”

“No, he’s dead, actually.”

José paled and said, “How? Did your Tío Bruno kill him? Is that how he got this book?”

Camilo held up his hands and shook his head. “No no no, Santiago died on the mountain.”

“Then you met him as well?”

“Ummm, not exactly. I can’t really give you the whole story here. Like you said, something's are better discussed in private, and my Papí would be a much better source of information.”

José looked around and nodded, then asked in a lowered voice, “One more thing, can I ask how you know Bubo?”

“I actually only just met your sobrino yesterday at a town meeting. He’s more a friend of Mariano’s,” Camilo said and pointed to him. He was now speaking with Miguel, and Camilo hoped Dolores had warned him about that one. “I know Mariano because he’s my sister’s fiancé. Anyway, the only reason it was yesterday is that Bubo hasn’t been around much since he’s been leading the group that’s been keeping watch on the outskirts of our town.”

“It would be like him to do something like that. I wondered why he had not returned, I had hoped he would come back six months ago,” José said, “Thank you, Señor Madrigal I need to speak with the others of my own group, how much further do we have to go?”

“It will be a few more hours of steady walking before we get to the town.”

José nodded, then moved toward a group of men that were staying together near the back of the line of people. Camilo looked toward the front and saw Mirabel was still sitting with her arms crossed on the cart, so Camilo went to cheer up his prima.

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

Antonio was sitting at the desk in his room with a stack of paper and a pencil, writing out:

‘ No usaré mi super jaguar volador para abalanzarme sobre Abuela.’

He was supposed to write that twenty times in his best handwriting. Twice his Papí had crossed off one or two of the lines because he said it was ‘illegible’ whatever that meant. Antonio had lost track of how many times he’d written the sentence and was seriously bored with it. Parce was asleep nearby and had not moved a centimeter since his Papí told the big cat he best not move from that spot until Antonio had completed his punishment. The jaguar had simply chuffed and closed his eyes.

Chipsi came over, and she whistled to see if he was hungry and Antonio smiled, “No, I can’t eat grass, but thanks for asking.” This made Antonio realize he’d missed out on lunch when his stomach growled. He threw back his head and said, “Ugh... I’m gonna starve to death.” Antonio sighed and looked at the papers. He began to count the lines. He ticked off each one, skipping the crossed off lines, and started to get excited when he realized he only had one more to go. He picked up his pencil and started to write really fast. Chipsi let out a chirp and Parce chuffed. Antonio looked at the line... he couldn’t really read what he wrote, and decided this must be what illegible meant. He sighed, crossed it out and began the last line again. This time he made sure to make his letters extra neat. He was just finishing up when his father appeared next to him. Antonio handed him the last two pages. His father looked at his work and nodded as he said, “Okay Toni, you can go have some lunch, but if we have to do this again, it will be forty times.”

Antonio shuddered and thought, forty would take forever and said, “Okay, Papí. I won’t do it again.”

His father smiled then sighed and said, “Off you go, but don’t leave Casita by yourself. There are a lot of new people on their way here that we know nothing about. Why don’t you take your sister some lunch for me? She’s in Mira’s room. It’s on the counter in the kitchen.”

Antonio nodded and went downstairs with Parce in tow. There was a basket with some wrapped sandwiches and some fruit. Antonio took the basket and went up to Mirabel’s room. He found his Tío Bruno sitting on the floor with his sister and he must have been telling her jokes because she was laughing.

“Hey Toni, I see you’ve finished your punishment,” Tío Bruno said as he came in the room.

Antonio nodded and said, “Yeah, and Papí asked me to bring Dolores some lunch.”

“Excellent,” he said, getting up, “Well, I’ll leave you to it then Toni. Dol, let me know when they all get here... I gotta do a thing, then maybe a nap.”

“Okay, Tío. Thanks for the company.”

“You’re welcome,” he said and walked out the door.

Antonio set down the basket as Parce laid near Abuela’s door. He pulled off the towel and Dolores put it in her lap. Antonio pulled out two of the sandwiches and some fruit. He sniffed the wrapping and smiled, recognizing the smell of one of his favorites.

“So, what did you bring me, Toni?” Dolores asked as she settled her hands on the towel in her lap.

“Pickled potato sandwiches,” Antonio said and handed her one.

“Oh, nice,” his sister said, “Mamí is really getting good at that one.”

Antonio nodded and while she was unwrapping it, his sister squeaked then laid a finger down and said, “Mariano, mi vida, be careful not to say too much to that one. Definitely nothing about Tuli or the Gifts.”

She refocused on Antonio as he asked, “Doli, are these people bad?”

“Not so much bad, as snooping about things they have no business knowing,” Dolores said, and took another bite of her sandwich.

Antonio looked at all the lights swirling around on the floor. He could see they were following Luisa and Mirabel and said, “Papí says there were a lot of new people coming. Do you know how many?”

“Yes, thirty-two.”

“Wow, that is a lot. Any kids?”

“Yes, quite a few, actually.”

“Oh, how many?”

“Eleven, but most of them are still not old enough to go to school.”

Antonio looked over at Parce and asked, “You think they’ll be afraid of my friends?”

“Maybe at first. Parce is a really big jaguar.”

“Yeah,” Antonio said as he finished his second sandwich.

“You might want to slow down there, hermanito, you’re gonna get a tummy ache.”

“But they’re so delicious.”

Dolores took another bite of hers and said, “Can’t argue with that.”

Sitting with his sister was nice, but Antonio wanted to go out and play but since he couldn’t go out alone he asked, “Dolores?”

“Yeah, Toni?”

“Where did Tuli go?”

“She went with Isa to do some farm work at the Jimenez place.”

Antonio gave himself a shake and asked, “On purpose?”

Dolores smiled and said, “Not everyone gets to play all day.”

“I helped today,” Antonio said with a small pout.

“True, it’s a good thing Isa sent you into town to find me. No donkeys were loose, but those chickens would have taken forever to round up without you.” They ate in silence for a bit, then Dolores asked, “So little brother, you looking forward to being the star of Milo’s play?”

“Kinda, it is fun to put on costumes and stuff, but I don’t know if I can do it in front of a bunch of people.”

“Just pretend you’re doing it in front of your animal friends.”

“That’s a great idea Doli,” Antonio said, then looked over to the door when he heard a squeak. It was Tino and Antonio had to focus hard. Tino was talking too fast, and he said, “Tino, slow down a little bit...” The rat did, and Antonio's eyes went wide, and he said, “Oh my gosh. Doli, Tío Bruno needs help. Tino says Tío isn’t waking up and that his eyes...” Antonio was up and so was Parce.

“Hold on,” Dolores said and put her finger on her their Papí’s light. She relayed what Antonio told her and said to Antonio. “Toni, can you go get Tío Gus? He’s in the back garden.”

Antonio nodded and scooped up the rat, then hopped on Parce. They ran out the door, then down the stairs and out the back door. He reached the garden and found his Tío raking in between a row of squash plants.

“Tío Gus! Tío Gus! Tío Bruno needs your help!” Antonio shouted as Parce skidded to a halt.

His Tío set aside the rake and asked as he leaned in to listen, “Tell me what’s happening, Toni.”

Antonio did, and his Tío asked, “Did Dolores let your Papí know?”

“Yes,” Antonio replied.

His Tío nodded and started toward the back door. He stopped and said, “Toni, I’m going to need you to wait by the door. Dol probably called your Mamí too, so can you wait for her to get back and tell her what you told me?”

Antonio nodded and followed his Tío into the house. Toni and Parce went across the courtyard, but before they passed the stairs he said to Tino, “Find out what’s happening, Tino and let me know, okay?” The rat squeaked in the affirmative and ran up the stairs. Casita opened the front door, so Antonio sat nearby to wait for his Mamí.

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

Agustín took the stairs two at a time and met Félix at Bruno’s door. It was glowing very brightly, and the cuñados exchanged looks as they went into his room. Bruno was not there nor in the nearby alcove, and Agustín glanced back at the falling sand on the other side of the room and Agustín thought, oh no, and nudged Félix. They both rushed over to it, and ducked as the sand enveloped them. They pushed through and found Bruno on his knees in front of several shattered vision tablets. It had always been rare for Bruno to subject himself to creating this many visions in such a short time. The sand dome started to collapse, so they knelt in front of him and called to him, but Bruno did not respond. His eyes were darting all over the place, almost as if he were searching for an answer he was not finding.

Pepa came in and asked Félix to collect Antonio from the other room. Félix nodded, and Pepa glanced at the broken tablets as she knelt in front of her brother. Her brow furrowed, and a cloud formed as she put a gentle hand on his cheek and said, “Bruno, it’s going to be okay. We’re here to help. I know we’ll find a way through. Come back to us, hermanito.”

Bruno finally blinked and as he did an emerald tablet coalesced and dropped into the sand in front of him. He didn’t look at it, just stepped on it, causing it to crack. “I need a nap,” was all he said before allowing his sister to help him leave. Pepa looked back before she followed Bruno into the sand, her concern was clear and Agustin pushed the vision tablet pieces back together and frowned as he thought, one more complication to an already complicated problem.

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

Isabela and Tuli reached the Jimenez farm in good time, and they talked to Juanita Jimenez, the farmer’s heavily pregnant wife, for a little bit about how the crops were doing. She joined them as they headed out to the new cassava field while telling Isa what she thought the problem with the crop was. Isabela listened carefully, the goal was to see if she could just help the plants along without interrupting their normal growth, and the farmer’s wife held many answers. Juanita had come to the Encanto from her family’s cassava farm with the same group as Bubo with little else beyond the clothes on her back and a sack full of cassava cuttings. She’d met and married John Jimenez within a month of her arrival. The rumor mill had gone wild with speculation that she’d gotten pregnant just so John would have to marry her, and he didn’t really care for her at all. Juanita called to her husband, and he came in to greet them.

He smiled at his wife, and she tilted her head and smiled back, then turned and walked back to the house. Screw what the gossips in town said. Isabela recognized that look, John Jimenez loved his farm wife. He turned his attention back to her and said, “Thank you for coming, Señorita Isabela. I did as you said and cut off all the spotty leaves and burned them. Most of the plants appear to be bouncing back. I did not think cassava was so finicky.”

Isabela nodded, but did not mention that it was in fact Juanita that had told him he needed to do that. That’s why Isa made a point of speaking with her whenever she came by.

“Who is this lovely young lady with you?” John asked.

“This is Señorita Márquez, she volunteered to help me today.”

The farmer laughed, “Oh, a volunteer weeder. Good on you, Señorita.”

“Where do you need us to start?” Isabela asked.

“I’m working on that end,” he said and pointed, “If you could start on that side, hopefully, we’ll meet in the middle.”

Isabela nodded as she and Tuli walked toward the end of the field. Isabela hummed as she brushed her hands along the tops of the plants. Leaves vibrated and most deepened in color. The ones that did not were already dead and broke off. Isabela knew she could just grow the cassavas, but it was important to her that she focus on helping them be a little healthier. Trying to grow an entire field would likely knock her out for days. So, after tying up her shoes as well as her and Tuli’s skirts, she pointed out which plants needed to go, and they got to work.

Isabela was impressed, Tuli worked diligently and without complaint for the entire time. They actually caught up with John much sooner than Isabela expected. He complimented them on their hard work and asked if they wanted to stay for supper.

Isabela declined, saying she was expected to be home this evening. The farmer nodded and asked if Isa would be available the following week. Isabela nodded and wished the farmer well, and she and Tuli started back toward Casita.

“That was kinda fun,” Tuli said and skipped ahead of her. When they were halfway home, Tuli stopped as she looked up the road. From where they were, they could see the line of people coming down and Tuli went very still as she put a hand on her locket and asked, “Isabela, is it alright if I… change my clothes before my Tío comes? I want to stay, and I think I’ll just make him angry... if he sees me... like this. Then we’ll have a fight and I’ll end up... ”

Isabela noticed Tuli’s look of almost panic as she took her hand. “If that’s what you want to do, of course. You know your Tío better than anyone. It’ll all work out Tuli.”

“How can you be sure?” Tuli asked, her other hand firmly grasping her locket.

“You know, I just am,” Isabela said and lifted Tuli’s chin.

Tuli smiled then kissed the locket. She looked back up the road and whispered to the people in the distance, “Eu acredito em você, Bubo.”

“Tuli what language was that? I know it’s not French.”

“Oh, it’s Portuguese, I learned some of it from my abuela and Bubo. He used to live in Brazil. That’s where he came from before he went to live with our abuelos.”

So that was the source of his accent. It hadn’t occurred to Isa that Bubo’s parents might not be around. She wondered how old he’d been when he came to Colombia. Maybe she’d ask later… maybe that was too personal for a first date… maybe she could ask Tuli. Isabela dismissed that idea since it was not necessarily something Tuli would know. Isa let out a yelp when she stubbed her toe. She looked down to realize her shoes were, once again, missing. She quickly reached behind herself and sighed with relief when she found they were hanging on her belt. She and Tuli left the path and walked on the soft grass. Isa stopped as she brushed at the dirt she’d gotten on her clothes, it didn’t help. Tuli looked down at her own skirt and wiggled her toes, “Weeding sure does get you dirty.”

“Yeah, but it’s so satisfying to yank those troublemakers out of the ground,” Isabela said and laughed as she pretended to violently pull an imaginary weed. Both she and Tuli took a step back as a large oak tree sprouted and rapidly grew near the edge of the forest. It was almost as large as the one in the plaza.

Tuli whispered, “Oh my gosh, do you think that’s a guardian tree… I’ve never thought I see one get born before… I wonder who it’s for… ”

Isa wondered what Tuli was talking about but put her hands firmly at her sides. No more using her gift today if she actually wanted to go on that date, that was for sure, and asked, “Tuli, why would you call that ...?” Isabela realized that Tuli was gone. She was running toward the tree. Isabela followed and stopped with Tuli in front of it. Tuli ran her hand over the bark as she stared at the tree with a hopeful smile on her face. Isabela decided it was a question that could be answered later as she too looked up into the branches. The tree was still filling out as its leaves were still unfurling near the top. She put a hand on it and heard quite plainly ‘anselmo’. Startled, Isa pulled her hand back. Tuli was now hugging the tree and whispering something that almost sounded like a prayer. Isa wiggled the fingers of the hand she’d touched the tree with. They were tingling, and she thought, that’s just weird, and she decided she would figure that out another time. She poked Tuli’s arm and said, “Come on, let’s get cleaned up before Bubo and your Tío get back.” Tuli nodded and reluctantly left the tree behind to follow Isabela toward Casita.

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

Mirabel sighed as she watched the road ahead. She knew they were only a few kilometers out of town now. Luisa was again talking to Osvaldo about his donkey, and Camilo had told her to stay put when he jumped off the cart. Still, he’d sat with her for the past two hours, telling her the most random jokes. He was now walking with Old Arturo, who was telling him something that made Camilo glance over at the other cart where Señora Vargas was sitting. She had her head together with the man she’d noticed Camilo speaking to earlier.

The cart bounced when they hit a stone in the road hard enough that Mirabel had to adjust her glasses. The kids in the cart all squealed and were giggling. Mirabel looked back and saw that Bubo was now awake. He looked at the seat beside her, and she motioned for him to join her.

“Feel better?” Mirabel asked as Bubo climbed up.

“Yes, didn’t realize I was that tired,” Bubo said as he rubbed his knees rather nervously. He was quiet for a time, then looked at her and said, “Thank you, Mirabel.”

“For what? I didn’t actually do anything,” Mirabel said.

Bubo shook his head and said, “You underestimate yourself, Mirabel Madrigal. You have an unusually calming presence about you. You also, once again, stopped me from doing something incredibly foolish, and I’m sure my outburst didn’t help Tuli’s situation.”

“I don’t know, Bubo. You care a great deal for your prima and throw a little personal guilt and exhaustion into the mix and voilà, instant anger.”

“Ugh, I feel so stupid. I see now why your Mamá asked that I bring you and your sister along on this journey.”

“My Mamá?” Mirabel was perplexed, then remembered her attitude when she was told she wasn’t going with her mother and sisters to retrieve the folks on the mountain. She thought she’d hid her disappointment better. Clearly she did not, but maybe that was not a bad thing. Too much of what had happened before the breaking was because no one was willing to let certain parts of themselves show.

“She said you wanted to help. You did, so again, thank you,” Bubo said, then fell silent for a while. He was looking down the road. You could just make out the tops of the houses in town from here. Mirabel noticed the tree line had changed since this morning. There was another great tree poking above it. It was large enough that you couldn’t see Casita from here anymore. Isabela must be responsible for that, she thought. But why grow it there? She looked over and noticed Bubo was, once again, rubbing his knees and he said, “I’m not sure how I’m going to talk to my Tío about this rationally. We’ve already had arguments in the past regarding him calling Tuli, Paola. Now add into that the other and… ”

“I’m no expert, but maybe you should try to see the situation from your Tío’s perspective. He obviously cares what happens to the both of you. Who’s to say what’s motivating him if you don’t ask.”

“While I see your point, I’ll be honest, I am not convinced that will be effective.”

“Well, just give it some thought, Bubo. People can be surprising. So, did Mariano fill you in as to what you’re doing tonight?”

“No, but as long as I’m sitting here, can you give me something to talk to your sister about... besides insects, that is.”

“Well, Isa loves music and dancing. She plays the piano and sings really good too. When I was little, she would take me ‘flying’. She was an awesome big sister then.” Mirabel realized what she’d said and glanced at Bubo. He hopefully missed that, so started hurriedly naming random Isa likes. “Ummm, she likes to experiment with recipes... She’s actually really good at cooking, but doesn’t want anyone to know that. She likes her coffee with milk. She thinks everyone should love cacti. She wants a cat, either striped or maybe a black one. She thinks dogs smell funny, and she doesn’t like when they dig up plants. She used to have potatoes in her room that she would talk to and dress up in clothes...” Bubo tilted his head, and Mirabel paused and cleared her throat. “Sorry, just forget I said that.”

Bubo chuckled as he nodded and said, “É engraçado, I promise I didn’t hear a thing.”

Mirabel tilted her head and asked, “Bubo, you speak Portuguese?”

“Yes, I was born in Brasil. I only learned Spanish when I came to Colombia.”

“Oh, how did you come to be living here?” There was a pause and Mirabel thought maybe that was an uncomfortable question and added, “Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Just something I’ve not thought about for a long time,” Bubo said, then looked off toward the town. Though Mirabel was curious, she just sat and waited for Bubo to find his words and he asked, “Do you know what a bus is?”

Mirabel shook her head then remembered seeing a picture of one in a magazine that one of the newcomers had brought, so she said, “I’ve seen a picture. They look a bit frightening.”

Bubo shrugged. “Not really. Anyway, buses are usually pretty safe, and you can move quickly from one city to another. When I was about eight years old, my parents and I went on a bus trip to Brasile’s capital, Manaus. Spent the day looking at all the historical buildings. Overall, it was a good day, the time got away from us, and we ended up boarding the last bus back to our town very late. I’m not completely sure what happened because I fell asleep pretty quickly once we were on the road. I woke up in the hospital. I knew something wasn’t right because my abuelos were there instead of my parents. I was told that the weather had turned bad, there was an accident and that both of my parents were killed. I survived, but only just. There were a lot of things I had to relearn, like how to walk, feed myself, it’s a long list. Since I did not have any relatives in São Joaquim, where we lived, I came to live with my Abuelos in Aracataca once I was released from the hospital. My Tío was already living there on and off, and he helped me get back on my feet, so to speak.”

“I’m sorry about your parents, Bubo.”

“Thank you, I think my only regret is that I’ve never been able to visit their graves. Someday though.”

Mirabel nodded and realized they were almost to the town plaza and could see her Abuela and Mama, along with the rest of the town council, waiting to greet them. Camilo came up to them and said, “Hey, Bubo, your Tío was asking for you.”

Bubo nodded and hopped down from the cart and began walking toward the back of the group. Camilo climbed up and plopped into the seat next to her. He elbowed her twice and started talking without looking at her. Camilo used to do this when they were little, and they were busy planning some pointless prank. It was always more fun to do that in a conspiratorial way. No jokes this time though, he was instead giving her a run-down of all the things he noticed happening with the new group. It felt weird that her primo felt he needed to do that. But again she realized that she really did need to know these things. Most concerning was José’s warning that they not share extra information with Señora Vargas or her son Miguel. She could see that Luisa was also paying attention and Mirabel glanced back and saw that most of the kids were asleep, so she wasn’t overly concerned they were listening. Camilo wondered then how Abuela was going to explain the magic to these people. Mirabel looked over at Casita and smiled when she noticed the house waving. She waved back and thought, It’ll all work out. I just know it.

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

Bubo joined his Tío, and his uncle introduced him to the others of his original group that had joined him on his search. A few of them Bubo knew since they were from the same area as his abuelos. He nodded to each and decided to let his Tío know about the magic and what to expect. His Abuela had often told them stories about the fantastical things that could only happen in Columbia and after seeing the magic of the Encanto, Bubo believed every one of them. His uncle was even more so. Though he had studied to be a lawyer, he’d given that up to be a journalist and writer. He was always looking for stories to explore and Bubo had enjoyed all of his published works, so he said as they walked, “Tío, there’s a story attached to this place and the people that live here that I want to tell you before we get there. So you know what to expect.”

His Tío was clearly intrigued because he slowed a little and let the group move ahead without them and said, “Okay Bubo, let’s have it then.”

Bubo then told him what he knew of what had happened here over fifty years ago at the beginning of the thousand days war. That the leader of the town, Doña Alma Madrigal, received a miracle after the death of her husband and father of their newborn triplets. It was this event that was the impetus that ultimately protected and saved the original inhabitants from the marauders that ransacked theirs and other nearby villages. He told him about La Candela and Casita, the living house that helped look after and protect the Madrigal family. When he got to the part regarding the Madrigal family Gifts, he paused and his Tío said, “You can’t stop now, Bubo.”

“Sorry, I’m just trying to find the best way to describe what came next,” Bubo said, then one by one told him about each of the family’s Gifts as described to him by Mariano.

“You left one out,” his Tío said. “What Gift does Señorita Mirabel have?”

“Mirabel does not have a magical Gift,” Bubo said.

“How unusual. You’re sure?”

“Yes, she told me so herself,” Bubo replied.

His Tío nodded and said, “You look as though there is more to this story to tell.”

Bubo nodded and said, “Yes. When I arrived here, almost a year ago now, Casita had fallen and there were no magical Gifts.”

“But you didn’t use past tense when you were describing them.”

“That’s where Mirabel comes into it. After La Candela went out and the original Casita fell, a new Casita was built for the family by the townsfolk. Mariano said it was quite the thing to see because on the day they were to move back in, the family gave Mirabel the very last piece of it to put in place. A doorknob to be precise. When she did, Mariano said a new miracle was born and Casita and the Gifts returned.”

“You did not see any of that?”

“No, at that time I was patrolling the area near the river at that time. I found out about it when I came into town to resupply.”

“You didn’t go look?”

“Tío, I was responsible for a patrol, and only in town for a day before I headed back out.”

“Right, so Mirabel is now the... the miracle bringer?”

“She is an extraordinary young woman. I'm guessing she’ll lead this town one day.”

“I think I would like to see this Casita.”

“It’s likely you will, since Tuli is staying at the Madrigal home.”

As they crested the final hill, Bubo’s Tío put a hand on his shoulder, bringing Bubo to a halt. Only one of his uncle’s companions noticed they’d stopped. That one just nodded and continued on. Bubo was now feeling very nervous.

“Now that you’re a little more rested, I need to ask Bubo, honestly, do you believe Tuli when he tells you he’s a girl?”

Bubo strangely did not feel he needed to hesitate and said, “Yes, at her core she has the soul of a girl.”

“But don’t you see how much more difficult Tuli’s life will be if we allow them to continue with this?”

“Her life is already painfully difficult, to the point that she fled our family with a person of questionable character. She’s already paid a high enough price for that mistake. Honestly, do you not see how alone and isolated she already is? She doesn’t want to go back to that. Who would? I’ll say it again, I accept that Tuli is exactly who she believes herself to be. She wants to remain in the Encanto, make it her home. Also, the Madrigals are all aware that Tuli is not physically a girl, and they do not have an issue with that. In fact, Doña Madrigal said Tuli would be welcome to stay... if you gave her permission to do so and if I agreed to stay as well.”

“And do you?”

“Yes. I’ve grown fond of the people here. Made some good friends. Met a nice girl.”

“What about school?”

“I’ll find time for that one day.”

“I do not believe that.”

“Said my almost lawyer Tío.”

His Tío smiled and said, “Good answer, Bubo. And if I take Tuli back to Bogotá?”

Bubo sighed and said, “Then this was a pointless conversation because I do not believe she would be able to bear it. We will lose her forever the next time she runs, and you know that she will,” Bubo said “Tío, when I found out yesterday just what Tuli had been through, I was ready to go out and do something I would never be able to take back. But I was reminded that of all the places Tuli could have ended up, she ended up here where her family is. Tuli’s found the sanctuary she’s been searching for since her mother was killed, and her father went missing. This place where she can be who she was meant to be. This place where miraculous things happen daily.”

His Tío did not answer, so Bubo started down the hill. He paused and turned back when his Tío said, “I can’t make any promises, Bubo, but I will consider what you’ve said.”

“Thank you, Tío,” Bubo said with a small smile, “That’s all I can ask for.”

Notes:

If you were wondering: ‘No usaré mi super jaguar volador para abalanzarme sobre Abuela.’ translates to: I won't use my flying super jaguar to pounce on Grandma Kids

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