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#But it is causing me sleepless nights sobbing because I feel like such a fraud
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Hello! I found your blog only a couple hours ago and I already love it! My question was could you make a reaction to the companions cheating on Sole and getting caught by an unforgiving Sole? Thank you~!
Oooh, interesting idea! Finally found time amongst all this college and whatnot to write some reacts! Also, extra lengthy as a poor apology for my inactivity!
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Cait: Cait wouldn’t ever cheat, she was too loyal to Sole, and frequently threatened Sole with several brutal punishments, including mulation and the loss of all their blood, if they ever even thought about cheating on them.
Curie: Sole’s eyebrow raised when they stepped into the room, Curie dead asleep under the covers with a mysterious human-like bump next to her, her shoulders bare and shining slightly under the strip of moonlight that invaded the room through the cracked window (MacCready’s fault, of course, he just hadn’t fixed it yet). Had it been anyone else than her, Sole might’ve considered her cheating on them, but as they tugged the covers aside, a dog-head popped up and a pink tongue lolled out, Dogmeat looking just as pleased as the now sleepy, blurry-eyed Curie. “S-sole?” Her voice was a low sleepy mumble, and Sole chuckled before shushing her. “Go back to sleep.” They said, although the woman had already passed out again, clearly having gotten little sleep during Sole’s week-long mission. Dogmeat crawled down to the foot of the bed and Sole fell asleep with their arms around their lover and a happy dog on top of their soon numb feet and legs.
Danse: Normally, when one was caught in the act of cheating by their partner, they would apologize, try to make up for it. Not Danse. Danse stood, ignored the woman who scrambled away and without caring about his lack of clothing, stood in front of Sole who was trembling and trying not to either yell or cry, hurt by the man’s actions. “It was necessary for the mission.” Sole’s jaw dropped and they stared unblinkingly at the man, stoic in features but the slightest hint of regret in his dark hues. The man was a soldier and obeyed any commands given from one of a high position, so when Maxson commanded them to infiltrate the copy-cat soldier unit that was wreaking havoc under the name of the Brotherhood of Steel, he didn’t hesitate. Even when sleeping with the top commander turned out to be the way in. Appalled by the man they thought they had got to know well enough, the survivor turned and ran, and was therefore unable to see Danse’s face contort into pain and his hands grip his hair aggressively, pain and conflict painted all across his face. Split between his loyalty and his love, the man completed the mission, but after a month of sleepless nights and longing, he went rogue, seeking out Sole at one of the settlements he had helped build up. Finding them, sickly and weak from grief and sorrow, Danse nursed them back to help despite the coldness and defensiveness they treated him with at first, but eventually after many weeks, Sole warmed up to them again and they become stronger than ever together. Never did Danse regret leaving the Brotherhood after that, and when they were brought down from rebellion and moles on the inside, he barely grieved, knowing he had little friends left there anyway.
Deacon: “It’s not what it seems like.” Deacon was known for being a liar, a fraud, a cheat, but right then, right now, Sole believed him. They’d known the man for quite some time, and the look in his eyes and feeling in their own heart lead them to believe the man, their head nodding up and down and prompting a relieved sigh from the sunglass-wearing man in front of them. “You have five seconds to get your skinny face out of here, or you’ll be missing half your skin.” Sole’s threat was enough to wipe the sly smirk off the woman’s face and completely naked she ran out of the house, narrowly avoiding nicking herself on the large hunting knife in Sole’s hand. The two shared a laugh and after replacing the duvet - they’d rather not continue smelling her horrible death-like perfume on the cloth - they laid in the bed together, silent and content to just be at peace. “I’ve never been attacked with the treat of sex before, nor have I been as terrified of a woman.” Sole laughed and gave him a kiss on his grinning face.
Dogmeat: Dogmeat had begun tagging along with Preston more, much to the sadness of Sole. They’d become convinced they’d lost Dogmeat to the other man, but upon turning a corner one day and spotting Preston giving Dogmeat treats, Sole turned around and left, only to return with a tire iron and an icy glare. No one had the right to bride Dogmeat away from her! No one commented on Preston’s black eye and limping walk the following weeks, well away by the smug look on Sole’s face as Dogmeat padded along besides them what had happened. No one messes with Sole’s Dogmeat.
Hancock: It would be a lie if Sole hadn’t expected Hancock to be like that when they first met, but as they got closer and eventually become a couple, several star-gazing and deep talk episodes later that first judgement had vanished completely and Sole put all their trust into the man. That’s why it hurt especially bad when they walked in on the man with not only one but two women in his bed, the scent of alcohol and drugs in the air little excuse. Hancock knew he had screwed up and quickly threw the women out in the attempt of salvaging something, but it was too late. Sole spent the next hour yelling at the man with tears down their face, the ghoul silent and just accepting the words thrown at him. When Sole stopped and collapsed into a sobbing mess of grief and hurt, the man defied her
MacCready: The young man was near tears as he fell to his knees in front of Sole, who couldn’t stop staring down at MacCready with a look of horror and heart wrenching disappointment. They’d stepped into their shared home in Diamond City to see their lover in bed with one of the women of the city, the flushed woman scrambling underneath the covers but not making a move to run, probably because Sole was standing in the doorway. Completely ignoring MacCready’s nudeness and fueled by hurt and anger, the lone survivor pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the woman at first, causing her to shriek in a horrible tone and scramble out the backdoor that Sole nodded her in the direction at with a demeaning glare. A sigh was heard from MacCready, the man believing that Sole had forgiven them, but the survivor then turned their gun to rest against the now terrified man’s forehead. “Out.” “What? No, let me explain-” “No explanation will be good enough. You broke my trust and your promise, you’ve got to go.” MacCready kept protesting for a few minutes, begging and pleading but when Sole broke and started yelling with tears down their cheeks, their tough facade crumbling under the intense grief, MacCready gave in and left. He spent the next months trying to make up for it, but when Sole vanished from the face of the earth, he had to give up after a few months of searching. None of their other companions would tell him where they had gone, most of them actually didn’t know. Sole was gone.
Nick: “Sole…” For the first time since they met, Sole flinched back from the man’s metal hand, the sadness in Nick’s golden hues undeniable as he stared at the figure of his loved on retreat slowly backwards. They’d never shied away from him before, but now they did, as he stood without a shred of clothing on his nude form in the middle of their- no, now it was probably just his’ room, a newly arrived member of the settlement hiding in vain underneath the covers. Without another word, sole turned and ran out, Nick’s hand stretched out into nothing for a few seconds before a sigh dropped from his mouth, eyes closing, head tilting down and arm falling limp at his side. “You better be out of here when I get back, Clara.” He’d got some major apologizing and making up for ahead of him.
Piper: Sole had returned home a few days early to surprise their lover, but the gifts they’d brought for her fell to the ground when she heard sounds from their house. Sounds they’d heard from Piper before but only when they were together at night, not like this. There was a foreign voice mixed in, yet slowly they realized who the voice belonged to. Sole didn’t even enter, they should’ve guessed that Piper’s urge and lust for news and gossip would eventually trump their relationship, especially since Sole was away a lot lately since a raider group had arisen and was causing trouble in the south. They took off the ring and tied it to the door handle, well knowing that Piper was most likely wearing a matching one right now, the mere thought of her cheating on them whilst wearing the ring they gave them making them nauseous. Turning, the survivor left, and no matter how many ‘missing’ posts Piper posted, Sole didn’t look back once.
Preston: “Sole, Sole, please stop! Let me explain, I didn’t… well, I did but I didn’t- stop!” Preston followed Sole all the way out of the settlement, pleading for them to stop but they continued, and after two miles of them ignoring the man, he finally gave up and watched them walk away, knees on the road and hands limp along his sides. A few hours went by before the man was spotted dragging himself into the settlement, only to turn around and leave again once he was met with distasteful and disappointed looks from the rest of the settlers, a few even yelling insults or throwing stuff at him. They all loved Sole, and hated Preston for hurting them like that. It took a few months for Sole to return and they were greeted with smiles and cheers, but never did they consider heading to the smaller house a bit outside of the walls of the settlement, where they knew Preston would be living at. They wouldn’t risk getting hurt again, but they knew the man was watching them and was just waiting for the courage to approach them again. A few months later, half a year after the incident, Sole showed up after a week-long trip with a new partner by their side. Preston was no longer spotted in the area, and rumors said he had moved down a settlement in the south.
X6-88: X6 didn’t understand. No matter how many times he sent himself to repair, no matter how many experts looked at him, he couldn’t get rid of the blinding pain burning inside of him. Why did he see Sole’s teary eyes at night when he looked at the stars, the same stars he had enjoyed the view of for months with Sole? Why did his chest hurt so badly, but there was nothing wrong? Why did he not feel the need to shield and protect his body when a doctor went rogue with a gun in the middle of the underground facility? He was fixed up after that incident, but even a change of 90% of everything in his body proved fruitless. The burning pain did not go away. He identified it as guilt and sorrow after an older doctor began talking aimlessly about his past life with his beloved wife, the troubles they’d faced together and the things he’d done and unintentionally hurt her. When the man shed a tear as he spoke about her storming out after discovering him with another woman, only to be found and killed by raiders a mere mile away, X6 felt the pain increase from the familiarity of his story compared to his own recent one, but it mixed with something new. Worry. What if Sole had been killed after storming out of their house as well? After discovering him with someone else because that was what the mission required? Running out of the underground Institute, startling quite a lot of bypassers and doctors in the process, the black-clothed synth was on a self-assigned mission - find Sole and figure out how to make up for the hurt he had caused. He would not spend the rest of his days with pain in his chest and talking about their lost love like the old doctor.
Maxson: A tiny sigh dropped from Sole’s mouth as they stood in the doorway, Maxson’s mouth opening and closing as he tried to formulate the slightest bit of an excuse or explanation for his partner, the woman behind him scrambling out of the door past Sole, the slightest hint of a smirk on her lips as her mission had succeeded - getting Maxson into bed, and Sole showing up only made it better. She’d definitely be telling her girlfriends about this and how Maxson was in bed! That left Sole and Maxson, who had managed to get a pair of pants on in the meanwhile and was approaching Sole. The raising of their hand in front of them stopped the large commander in his tracks, and his eyes watched them sharply as they approached slowly. Sole stood in front of the guilt-ridden man, pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, turned and left the room. The message was clear, and Maxson fell to his knees. The Brotherhood leader spent the next two years desperately searching for Sole, but he never saw them again, although he knew that even though he found them, they’d still be just out of reach of him. There was no fixing this.
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doodleimprovement · 6 years
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One Good Try [Coco]
This was just posted yesterday to Ao3, enjoy
Miguel is loosing sleep and gaining anxiety in the wake of his day in the land of the dead, with one question always at the edge of his thoughts:
"What if he didn't make it?"
He had to find out. He had to try
Rating: Gen \ Warnings: None \ Word Count: 2934 (Christ almighty) // Ao3 Link
Miguel had to try something
Two months of sleepless nights. Christmas had come and gone, and New Years Eve was well under way.
And the poor 12 year old was very much not enjoying himself a solid 40 percent of the time. His mind was mostly focused on one, nagging thought
Did he make it in time?
Was his Papa Héctor alive?
Did Mamá Coco - who passed just last month - get to see her Papa?
It ate away at the poor boy in tiny ways. In how peckish he’d been with food. In how he stared for hours at the re-taped photo of the Héctor with Imelda and Coco. How his dreams filled with images of his great-great grandfather fading away like sand into the darkness below the marigold bridge. In his tears that fell on the guitar, almost too afraid to strum it again since he last played for his Mamá Coco on her deathbed.
Two months had been too long. Too much. He had to find out. But how could he?
Its not Día de los Muertos. He can’t get cursed… can he?
He sat in the library at his school one day in late January, mulling over a book titled “The Dead and You: How to Contact Your Ancestors” by Esperanza Migas. He scanned and scanned until he reached a page with the ominous title: “THE DOS AND DON’TS OF THE DEAD”. Seemed as good a place as any to start reading
As he perused the page, one “don't” popped out at him: “DON’T: Deface your families tombs in any way. Might result in a curse”
… Well there was an idea, wasn’t it?
--
One small pint of water-soluble paint and a hasty plan later and here he was, in the Santa Cecilia Graveyard at one in the morning in the middle of February. His flashlight was laid on the cold earth facing the stone, and he worked on opening the paint.
The boy hadn’t slept more than an hour or so at a time in the past 4 days, and he muttered about how it was a miracle he wasn’t seeing double yet. Once opened, he took a deep breath, holding the can over her tombstone
"Lo siento, Mamá Imelda” He muttered, before pouring the thick, purple paint all along the top.
He waited a few moments, letting out a huff in frustration and going to grab the flashlight… and his hand went right through it. He jumped, realizing that it had worked, and immediately started looking around for the marigold bridge, spotting blotches of orange just out of his sight.
He ran, stumbling slightly over his own legs before getting to the bridge, which while not as bright as before, seemed pretty lovely nonetheless. Standing at the beginning of the bridge was a uniformed skeleton, who, upon spotting Miguel, stared blankly at him before speaking
“... Aren’t you the living boy from-”
Miguel just nodded, holding his own arm awkwardly
“...” The guard sighed deeply “Follow me, por favor”
---
Imelda had come to hate the ringing of her telephone. She had never liked the telephone, even when she was alive, and that obnoxious ringing was the reason why. Was it helpful? Yes. Did it make her like the device? No.
She grumbled out of bed and picked it up “Rivera Zápatos”
“Ah, is this Miss Imelda Rivera?” a light, female voice asked
“This is she. Why are you calling me at this hour?” She responded, not even a slight bit of amusement in her tone.
“Ah, well, you see Miss Rivera-” the lady on the other end of the line stumbled slightly, before another voice was heard in the background - a voice that caused Imelda’s eyes to widen in surprise.
“C-can I talk to her?”
There was a shuffling sound, and then a breath
“... Hola Mamá Imelda…” The young boys voice sounded thick with tears and hoarse from sobs, which only made her even more concerned.
“... We’ll be right there”
“W-wait, Mamá I-” She hung up
“Héctor!” She shouted to her bed, where a lump of blankets rolled about slightly “Get up, we have to go to the agency”
“Mmh… Why..?” Héctor sat up, rubbing at his eye sockets
“Jus’ get dressed” She huffed, grabbing her boots from their place bedside. She’d explain on the way.
There was no way she was going to keep Miguel waiting any longer than necessary, not with the way he sounded over the phone.
It left her chilled in a way only a mother can describe
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The sheer awkwardness radiating off of the assistant at the Department of Family Reunions left Miguel feeling so much worse now that he’d actually cried a little in front of her. She kept offering tissues, asking him how he was, and telling him that Imelda would be there soon.
And while it would be nice to see her, she wasn’t who he was here to see.
The crying had just come from him explaining why he was here. He’d barely gotten to talking about Héctor when he choked on his words in fear.
He was very close to straight up leaving the office before there was a sudden slamming of a door, followed by a slightly muffled but still recognized voice.
Miguel scrambled to his feet from his chair and watched as the door opened, and Imelda walked in, looking over Miguel briefly
He was dressed in a red sweater - seemed to be his favorite color- and jeans with his Rivera boots. The boy had bags under his eyes that rivaled herself during the early days of Cocos upbringing. The redness in said eyes matched his overall flushed complexion, exhausted and miserable looking.
“Miguel…” Her expression couldn’t help but soften at his appearance. You can’t stay mad at a boy who looks that miserable, even if he did pour paint all over your grave. He must have been looking to get cursed, looking for a reason to come back here, but why-
“Imelda? Imelda is it really him?” Héctor came in a few moments after her, coming from behind and looking past her, freezing up the same as her at his great-great-grandson’s miserable appearance.
Miguel's eyes went wide as saucers when Héctor entered, letting out a strangled gasp.
He looked… better. His clothing was no longer ragged, and he even had shoes. Shoes! His bones looked lighter, whiter, and even his hair didn’t look so dusty. He looked so much better than when Miguel had last seen him.
“P-papa Héctor!!” He shouted, rushing forward and clutching his arms around Héctors ribs, choking out sobs of relief. “Y-you’re okay! You didn't fade away!!” He managed in between strained crying and whimpers.
Héctor didn’t need too long to piece together that he was the reason his grandson was like this, and reacted by hugging the small boy close to his chest
“Heh, yeah, I am” He answered softly. “Still kicking in these old bones” He chuckled
Miguel took a moment to enjoy the hug before continuing.
“... I … I was worried…” he looked at the wall, almost embarrassed now “That I hadn’t made it.. That… you’d…”
“Ay, ay Miguel” Héctor turned Miguel’s head to look up at him with a gentle hand “I'm here, it’s okay”
The boy sniffled “Y-yeah…”
Imelda stepped over, a hand on Miguel's back in as comforting a manner she could “Miguel, are you telling me that you spilled paint on my tombstone-”
“He did what???” Hector looked aghast, right at Miguel “Miguel-”
“It’ll wash away with water!!” Miguel quickly assured, still sniffling a bit “and-and its supposed to rain tonight…”
Imelda sighed deeply, her fingers pinching the bridge of her long-gone nose. “Well… I supposed I cannot stay mad at such ingenuity, canI? It is a RIvera trait” She smiled slight, then turned to the Assistant “You! How long does Miguel have before the curse takes its hold?”
‘Oh! Oh uh-” The skeletal woman flipped through an old file as quickly as she could, before pointing down to a page “It says here that when in the case of defamation of a grave, you have to send him back and he has to clean the grave or he’ll be returned here before sunset the next day”
“Hm….” Imelda pondered “Miguel?”
“Hm?” the boy looked over at her directly, still clinging to Héctor like his life depended on it
“ I am sending you home”
“Ma-”
“But” She interrupted, “After we take you to the Hacienda for a quick visit”
The way Miguel’s face lit up was more than worth that brief blip of his defiance.
After assuring the assistant that they’d get Miguel home in a couple of hours, they promptly left. Imelda’s hand on Miguel’s shoulder, and Héctor holding his hand. Miguel was absolutely beaming, the tears quickly drying as he started telling them about how his baby sister was the best, and how Rosa was teaching herself to play violin, and how they had taken down the statue of De La Cruz in Mariachi Plaza since he’d exposed him as a fraud using Coco’s saved letters and poems. It was a lot for the dead Riveras to take in, but as Miguel recounted how the police had tried to take the guitar back, or how De La Cruz fans had called his assumptions absolute garbage (Miguel mentioned that they’d used harsher language and called him some pretty nasty names) Héctor couldn’t help the swell of absolute pride in his chest cavity
Nor the guilt weighing down on his shoulders.
Just seeing how relieved happy Miguel was just at the sight of him had numerous, worrying questions nag away at his brain
How long had Miguel been trying to cross over?
How many sleepless nights had Miguel spent thinking that he’d failed?
He’d admit that he’d had his own nightmares concerning Miguel. Nightmares where he didn’t make it home that night, where Ernesto's murder attempt had worked, where Miguel went home and was punished and barred from playing music ever again, somehow all because of him. When Coco had crossed over - that sad but joyous day - many of his fears had been alleviated
But Coco had never mentioned anything like this.
When they got to the Rivera Hacienda, most of the family was up, including Coco, who took one look at Miguel and wasted no time in gathering him into a bone crushing hug which he returned eagerly.
The rest of the family said their hellos and gave their hugs (Tia Rostia’s hug seemed especially snug) and She offered to name buñelos for him before he went home - as a treat. To which Miguel excitedly nodded his head. Some family members (like Victoria and Julio) went back to bed, while Oscar and Felipe caught Miguel in a talk about their various shoe ideas and tweaks. Héctor took the minutes where the boy wasn’t clinging to him to lean against the wall near the kitchen, watching him with the paternal affection he’d always had for the boy, even before knowing they were related.
“He’s such a brash niño” Imelda commented, approaching him “Doing this just to see if you were still around”
“After all that happened, I can’t really blame him, Diosa” He reached for her hand and she let him take it, squeezing it with reassurance “He looks so tired…”
“After Rosita finishes the buñelos I am sending him straight home. Talk to him now, Héctor” She asserted gently - squeezing his hand- before going to talk to Rosita.
Héctor briefly shook off his nerves before approaching the group
“Ay, Oscar, Felipe, lemme talk to Miguel, just a moment?”
“Oh, si, si, we- “
“Have to go to bed anyhow! Remember Miguel-”
“To deliver that design idea to Elena for us”
“You go it” He gave them a slightly unsure thumbs up as they left. He looked up at Héctor
“Ah.. whats up, Papa Héctor?” Miguel grinned uneasily
Héctor sat himself down where Oscar and Felipe had been, looking right at Miguel. He didn’t have a very easy expression “Miguel, did you really do all that just to see me?”
“Uh well, yeah…” The boy looked away “I just.. Had to know, y’know? It was killin’ me” he shrugged, an almost-smile hitting his face. Héctor was confused for a moment before letting out a huff
“Thats not funny, M’ijo” he said, though his own slight smile betrayed him, earning a small grin - dimple and all- from his beloved grandson
“Yes it is, you’re smiling” Miguel mused almost haughtily
Héctor couldn’t help but chuckle “Enough enough. Miguel, I need to know that you won’t try to do this again” Miguel's expression after that didn’t surprise him “I mean it, M’ijo! You can’t come back here. Who knows what might happen to you if every time you miss me, or Coco, or anyone you just deface a tombstone, or steal something. It's not safe!”
“B-but-”
“No, no buts” He affirmed, and Miguel’s shoulders slumped “I don’t want to see you here again until you are old, grey, and skeletal yourself, comprende?”
Miguel sighed deeply, looking away from him and crossing his arms. He was so much like Coco - when she was a baby, anyway.
“... Fine, but.. I still wanna find a way to talk to you. Somehow, maybe?”
Just as Héctor was about to gently let him down from that pie in the sky idea, Dante exploded into the kitchen and tackled Miguel right off of the chair he was seated in
And Héctor got an idea.
After buñelos and more chatter, Miguel looked about ready to pass out where he stood, and Imelda grabbed a marigold petal. Miguel hugged those that were still awake, lingering on Coco and outright refusing to let go of Héctor for about 2 minutes before lastly hugging Imelda
“I’m sorry Mama Imelda” He muttered
“Ay, M’ijo es okay” She assured him, gathering him in a hug “Now, let's get you home for a full night's rest, si?”
He nodded
“Miguel, I give you my blessing” The petal glowed “To go home, to clean my tomb” she raised it to him “and to rest well, M’ijo”
He smiled brightly at her, and reached forward, touching the petal and getting swept away in a cascade of sunset orange.
Imedla sighed in relief after he left, rubbing at her eyes “Ay, that boy is going to be the final death of me”
Hector reached for her upper arm gently “Lets go to bed, Diosa. We’ve had an eventful morning, and the shop can afford to open late today” He assured and she simply nodded.
Eventful morning indeed.
----
Miguel arrived in the land of the living in the rain, looking at the tombstone and noting that the paint had already come off from the drenching it was receiving.
He grabbed his still on flashlight, and used it to navigate his way home and sneak in the hacienda.
He tiptoed passed bedrooms and went right into the bathroom, where he started running the shower and bathed- washing out the coldness of the rain and also making up an excuse as to why he was showering at this hour if anyone came by. No one did, and he finished the shower, dried himself off, and went to his room where he shoved his wet clothes deep into his hamper, putting on the pajamas he’d left in his bed.
He looked at the date and time on his calendar and clock, realizing that it was saturday and that school wouldn’t be a concern today. He smiled briefly, feeling more ready for sleep than he had in months, and shut his eyes, dreams of guitars and colors and skeletons already beginning before he even began to softly snore
---
The next few days, there was a notable change in Miguel. He was sleeping better, playing the guitar again, and seemed more like himself than he’d been in months. Elena wasn’t completely sure what caused the change in her grandson, but seeing him looking so much happier, it didn’t really matter.
While getting dinner ready, that damned Xolo dog burst in, barking and yipping and jumping around the hacienda, playing - though not roughly- with the twins and then making his way into the kitchen, where he sat at the entrance as if waiting permission. She turned to shoo him off, when she noticed a piece of rolled up paper tied to his neck. She approached him and he didn’t move as she removed it, and rolled it open. It was addressed to Miguel
Miguel,
I really hope you got this! It's a complete shot in the dark whether or not this can cross over into the land of the living, but if it did i think we’ve fixed the “communication issue”. Excellent!
Let me know how you are doing as soon as you get this, okay? I wish you nothing but the best, Mi Hijo.
Much love, Your Papa Héctor
Elena nearly choked on a breath, staring incredulously at the letter, before letting out a deep sigh, rolling it up, and re-attaching it to Dante.
“Miguel is in Mariachi Plaza, you dumb dog! Now shoo!” she waved her hand, and Dante took off like a bullet- or perhaps a rubber band? That dog’s movements defied logic.
Elena shook her head, chuckling “So he really was telling the truth… I’ll have to have a chat with that little niñito when he gets home” and returned to her carne asada, the smell wafting through the room and into the courtyard. She huffed in accomplishment, glancing out into the courtyard.
Yes, all was very well in the Rivera Hacienda
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