#Treasures of Colombia

[blueiscoool]

A Rare Spanish Colonial Silver-Gilt Two-Handled Cup from the Atocha Shipwreck Bogotá, Colombia, circa 1620

Nuestra Señora de Atocha was a Spanish treasure galleon and the most widely known vessel of a fleet of ships that sank in a hurricane off the Florida Keys in 1622. At the time of her sinking, Nuestra Señora de Atocha was heavily laden with copper, silver, gold, tobacco, gems, and indigo from Spanish ports at Cartagena and Porto Bello in New Granada (present-day Colombia and Panama, respectively) and Havana, bound for Spain. The Nuestra Señora de Atocha was named for the Basilica of Nuestra Señora de Atocha in Madrid, Spain. It was a heavily armed Spanish galleon that served as the almirante (rear guard) for the Spanish fleet. It would trail behind the other ships in the flota to prevent an attack from the rear.

Much of the wreck of Nuestra Señora de Atocha was famously recovered by an American commercial treasure hunting expedition in 1985. Following a lengthy court battle against the State of Florida, the finders were ultimately awarded sole ownership of the rights to the treasure.

[pinkyqil]

- Childhood Memories Present Time Treasure

Pairing: mischievous!r

Masterlist

Summary: mischievous!r back story and how she comes to choose Brazil as the national team you want to represent.

A/n: a little bit of r's childhood story and to how she is and if you want more back story before she joined the team feel free to leave in a request, you can always leave in requests, hcs or ask I'll try my best to get them to your standards and hope you guys enjoy this chapter even though it short

Most people know you as a trouble maker someone who could never stay out of the heat. someone who always lights up the mood a protective person but most of all other's who know you knew you were always his daughter...

You were always your father's daughter he would always teach you different things and of them was to stand up for yourself no matter what, he also taught you about your Brazilian root and lineage to love and respect no matter what.

If anyone was to ask who inspired you to play football, you would tell them it was pai .

He was not only your dad but your forever superman the man who risked his life just for you to counting living on.

It was one cloudy day and you had asked your day to take you too the Brazil vs Colombia women game that was happening. You we're being persistent that he should take you after your mother had said no anyways.

But him being the good father that he was decide to take you either way.

On your way to the game,weather was already getting bad the rains where becoming more and more violent. And that's how you remembered vividly how another car came rapidly flipping over your car.

Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion until you guys had gotten flipped.

Creating a huge collusion crash between both cars. you remembered your screams that were so loud but your pai holding your hands and guiding you to breathe properly and telling you everything was going to be alright. You felt scared and unable to move your body as you saw another car about to hit you guys again but all of a sudden you felt two pair of hands protecting your body with there's.

And that would be the day that you lost your father who died protecting you and stil tried comforting you no matter how bad the circumstances was.

Hence why from that day you vowed to always be proud of your Brazilian side no matter what and that would be a reason why you choose to represent the Brazilian national team because you would not also be representing Brazil but the country your father loved most.

You may have been born in spain but Brazil was also apart of your heritage and you want to represent it.

[shitty-fate-merch-daily]

With the new Colombia event released in EN, I think it's a good time to share an observation about Arknights's portrayal of Colombia

The first time we hear about Colombia is Grani and the Knight's Treasure in the context of Big Bob's goal to get there. Him and his group of infected have no place or means to survive in the more 'established' countries seen in the main story. Colombia is branded as a place where the infected have an equal opportunity to everyone else. No social class system or cultural bias against the infected, a clean slate from all the baggage of the past.

If you played it at the time of release, you weren't yet wise to Arknight's 'everywhere is equally terrible just in different ways' gimmik, leaving the event with the impression propaganda of Colombia as a sanctuary in the hell world of Terra.

Then Mansfield Break and Dorothy's Vision drop and well...

Idk I just think it's neat how Arknights was able to perfectly emulate then subsequently shatter the propaganda of the 'American Dream' to fool the characters AND the player.

[dancingtotuyo]

Scathed 9 (Javier Peña)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: anxiety, trauma, self worth, smoking, idiot(s) in love?, references to the drug war and colombia, Narcos season 3 spoilers

Notes: shoutout to my forever beta reader @janaispunk for looking this bad boy over!

Words: 2923

Series Master List | Author Master List

Journal Entry August 4, 1994  Dear Javi,

There are things I can’t bring myself to say. Even out on the back patio under the safety of the stars, I can’t tell you how scared I am that you won’t come back. It terrifies me. I did life without you for so long, but I’m not sure how to go back to life without you in it. We’re going to miss you alot. 

You won’t ever see this, but please come back. 

This time would be different. It ran on repeat in Javier’s head as he stared out the large windows that overlooked the buzzing city. New position, new apartment, new drug cartel. This time had to be different; he couldn’t get lost in it like last time. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to start back at the DEA in the morning.

He unpacked his last suit case, having put it off since his arrival Friday night, the one that contained his few treasures in life. Framed photos from Chucho: the ranch, the two of them, an old family photo with his mom. A crayon drawing from Alejandra: both of them on horses. A bottle of whiskey from Jaime. A journal from Emily. 

“To write down all those thoughts racing through your mind. Even the ugly ones,” she had told him.

He set it on the end table next to the family photo with his mom. This time would be different. A silent oath. 

Alejandra’s drawing went on the fridge, the bottle of whisky on the counter, and the other pictures on the bookshelf. He looked around. It all felt scattered, empty, nothing like the apartment he’d made for himself last time. 

The familiar urge to go out, drink a couple of fingers of whiskey, and take a warm body home crept in. He fought against it. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. This time had to be different. He’s promised himself over and over again it would be. He promised his dad he would call and write. He told Emily the same… 

Could he be here and not let it consume him? Could he be soaked in it all and still talk to her? Be worthy of her friendship? Being here, he felt the sins of his past marring his hands, so real and tangible. The same hands Emily allowed to touch her, what a privilege that was. The same hands she felt safe in. 

Javier thought about all the things he used to do when these thoughts raced through his mind when he couldn’t handle the big emotions: bars, cigarettes, sex. Too many times to count. His fingers itched at his side to grab his leather jacket and go. 

He paced the length of his apartment running a hand through his messy hair. Then it caught his eye: something sticking out of the journal. He pulled it out. 

A crisp envelope with his name written neatly in the middle: Emily’s handwriting. He popped it open. Polaroid pictures. He shook his head thinking about the grief he gave her for carrying that thing everywhere, but a smile appeared on his lips. There was one of him standing in the riding rink as Ale trotted around him on Hurricane. Another taken on the patio just last week: he and the kids eagerly chowing down on popsicles before they could melt in the Texas sun. He could see the red ring around Mateo’s mouth and drip down his chin as the sun beat him. One on the small dock next to the boys and his dad, lines cast into the pond Chucho stocked on the ranch. Javier smiled. Miguelito caught the biggest bass that day. Chucho had been dumbfounded. 

He sucked in as he flipped to the last one. It was the picture Alejandra had taken at the park just after he told her he was returning to Colombia. She leaned into him, an ease rarely seen in her. He’d caught a whiff of her shampoo, followed her lead, and leaned in. His thumb rubbed over the picture. He’d put an arm over her shoulder, her hand on his knee it all looked so… peaceful, domestic even, like they were- He cut the thought off, letting the picture fall to his coffee table. 

For so many reasons, that was a bad idea. 

He padded his pockets, finding the Nicorette gum. He popped the last piece into his mouth. He should grab more on his way to work in the morning. 

The Polaroid stared back at him. He looked happy, wrinkles cutting deep around his eyes. He picked the photo back up. He had been happy that day. Happier than he could remember even as he grappled with his decision to return to Colombia. Black ink on the back grabbed his attention. Don’t forget about us, okay? Her handwriting again. Her words to him that day.

He smiled to himself. That was his friend. He wasn’t sure he’d had one of those for a long time. Sure, he and Steve got along, but Steve was back in Miami. They still talked about once a month, but the bond he felt toward this woman was different. He and Steve had been forced together. They had to trust each other. Their lives had depended on it. Javier’s life sure didn’t depend on trusting Emily, but he did. She didn’t judge him. There were still things he hadn’t told her, and vice versa, but he knew when he was ready, he could. 

Javier slipped the photo of them into his wallet. This time was different.

He grabbed the phone off the end table and called his dad. The conversation was brief. The last thing he wanted to do was run up anyone’s phone bill, but he could tell his dad was happy to hear from him. He’d rarely received communications from Javier when he was in Colombia the first time. 

His fingers hovered over the buttons as he contemplated the second call. He told her he’d call. She told him to call. He pushed past the anxiety, pressing the buttons succinctly. He had it memorized. He checked his watch. It was bath night in the Kuykendall house. He knew that, but usually, the kids were bathed and in bed by now. 

Javier smiled as he thought about the few times he’d stumbled into bath night. It was true chaos and an event, but every single person wore larger-than-life grins. It was one of the times Javier felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself, like he’d been brought into something sacred. 

“Hello?” Anna answered. He could clearly hear the laughter of children and adults in the background. 

“Hey, it’s Javier… I can call back if this is-“

“Not at all.” He felt Anna’s welcoming presence through the phone. “Emily just came out of the bathroom.”

“Bath night.” Javier chuckled. 

“Exactly,” Anna called for her stepdaughter. Javier couldn’t hear their exchange over the shouts coming from the living room. 

“Javier?”

An ache in his chest eased. “Hey, sounds like a madhouse there.”

Emily laughed and the sounds muted as if she’d shut them behind a door. “Dad seems to have extra energy to chase the kids down tonight. How is it to be back?”

“Strange.” Javier glanced out the window. The city flowed like it always did, people rushing from place to place. “I’ve got a nicer apartment this time.”

“Of course you do, Mr. DEA attaché.”

Javier chuckled. “That sounds too fancy for me.”

“You said the same thing when you bought those suits and I gave you that snazzy new haircut.”

Javier grinned, resting against the countertop. His eyes fluttered shut as he remembered the feeling of her fingers through his hair. His shirt stretched and pulled across his chest as he inhaled. “Still sounds too fancy for me.”

“You ready for your first day?”

“No.”

Her laugh crackled through the line. “Then why’d you go back.”

At that moment, Javier wondered the same thing. He’d much rather be back in Laredo chasing the kids around the living room. “I’m askin myself that same thing.”

“Then do it. Tell the DEA where to shove it and come home.”

He smiled, low chuckle pulling from his chest. “You and I both know I have unfinished business here.”

“Yeah…” Silence sat between them. He could still hear the kids in the background. Javier wracked his brain for the right things to say, but everything he wanted to say he couldn’t. “Finish it quick, okay?”

“That’s the plan.”

“And stay safe. I can’t lose one of my only friends.”

“Oh?” Javier said. He felt an easiness take over him. “What about Lorraine? I thought she was your friend.”

“I said one of, and you’re my best friend anyway.” He can hear her eyes roll. “I mean it though, we all miss you already.”

“Tell the kids I said hi, okay? I’ll call another night when there’s time to talk to them.”

“Will do.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I should be saying that to you.”

“Em.”

“I will. I promise,” she said. “You too, Javi.”

Journal Entry August 8, 1994 Dear Javi,

I bet you spend all day behind a desk and hate every moment of it. It makes me laugh each time I think about it. It assures me that you’re okay too. Fancier job means a safer job, right?

As his first day back came to a close, Javier felt like he’d been there for a year. When he found the sticky note with the name of a nearby bar on his desk presumably left by Neil, he told himself one drink wouldn’t hurt. This time would be different. The mantra felt almost meaningless already. Similar things had been echoed in his meetings all day. This wouldn’t be like Escobar. There would be law and order and protocol. Politics were more important than ever. The world was watching now. 

One drink and then home. That was what he told himself as he sat down at the bar, ignoring his coworkers at the corner table. Pulling off his suit coat, he motioned the bartender ordering a whiskey. He turned down Neil’s invite to join the group. The guy was too eager to kiss his ass for Javier’s liking, put him up on a pedestal for taking down Escobar as if he hadn’t been suspended at the time. 

He swallowed the whiskey as soon as the glass was set in front of him. Then, he ordered another. Javier wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but it was too long. He rubbed his thumb over the crease of his forehead trying to talk himself out of the opportunity for stress relief sitting in front of him. The group in the corner had dwindled to two. A blonde he hadn’t met and the brunette he met at the beginning. Neil had introduced her. Karen? Katherine? Katie?… Katie sounded right. 

His staring wasn’t subtle, wasn’t flirtatious like he’d used to do it. If anything, it was creepy, staring at her while thoughts raced through his head. The mantra shortened until it was only a couple words as he tried to talk himself out of it. Different. Be different. It echoed over and over in his head. 

The bar was practically empty by now. She looked up and smiled at him like he wasn’t being a creep. He didn’t return it, still deep within his own mind. 

“Pretty girl.” Javier’s head snapped around to find fucking Bill Stechner of the CIA at his side. He slid onto the stool beside him. “Displays some shaky judgment in men though.” He looked at Javier.

Javier glanced away from Bill, looking over his shoulder as if to convey his annoyance with his whole body before turning back to him. He forced the briefest tip of his lips, the closest thing to pleasantries he could summon for the man. 

As most conversations with the CIA agent do, Javier was left with a sour taste in his mouth, the innate craving for a cigarette, and his failures thrown in his face. Then, Stechner laid it all out for him, the way things would go whether Javier liked it or not. Cali’s surrender. The facade of justice for the Cali Cartel. He didn’t like it, any of it, and he wasn’t sure why he came back in the first place, or why they even needed him. The DEA didn’t. He was just a pawn in Stechner’s game. 

“Cali will serve some time,” Bill said. He doesn’t look at Javier, keeping his eyes pinned to the bartop. “Technically speaking.”

“And that’s enough for you?” 

The look that crossed Stechner’s face is something akin to a blend of annoyance and patronizing as he met Javier’s eyes. “If there were any justice in this world, Javier, you’d be in jail.”

It was only half a second before Javier averted his eyes, the shame of what he did flooding him. He wasn’t the hero everyone acted like he was. Stechner knew that. Javier kept quiet. 

“I know your guys are running an operation on Cali tonight.” Bill stood, putting enough cash on the bar to cover his and Javier’s tabs. “I can tell you this, it’ll come up double zeros.” More silence. “These guys don’t make mistakes. You try and go after the Cali bosses, all you’ll get is more bodies.” 

Stechner finished off his drink, patted Javier’s shoulder, and walked out without another word, leaving Javier with a bigger stress headache than he came in with. Try as he might, Javier couldn’t push it out of his head. He needed something, a distraction. He wouldn’t survive without one. 

Javier finished off the whiskey in front of him. He rubbed his forehead, searching for any relief. Different. It seemed quieter now, further away like his resolve was slipping. He needed to be anywhere that wasn’t here, shut off his brain.

He stared straight ahead, eyes glazing over, shining in the dim bar light as he pinched his top lip between his thumb and forefinger. Different. It felt useless, like he was bound to fail. A whisper of an oath. Maybe there was no different for him.  

It was almost instinctual, the way he glanced over, eyes meeting hers. She offered him a soft small now sitting alone at the table, cigarette held between her middle and pointer finger, like she had been waiting for him.  

“This is Peña. Leave a message.” BEEP.

“Hi Mr. Javi! It’s me, Ale. I miss you already. You should call me soon.” 

“Alejandra, who are you on the phone with?”

“Mr. Javi’s voicemail.”

“Ale, it’s expensive to call Colombia. Hand me the phone.”

“Oops.” She giggled.

A long sigh crackled over the line followed by a pause. “Hey Jav… I guess I’ve paid for the next couple of minutes, I might as well use it. I suppose you’re already working late since it’s after eight. Don’t let them work you too hard, okay? And you should still return my call.” More dead air. “It feels silly to miss you as much as I do. I feel like I haven’t talked to you in days… Oh! I got into that class I was waitlisted for. Anne is willing to work with my school schedule so I still get my hours in at work.”

“Mommy!” A voice calls out in the background as a crashing sound follows it. 

“Shit” The machine clicked off. 

Javier woke up tangled in his navy sheets with the same stress headache and a greater hankering for a cigarette than he’d had in months. Katie slept soundly on her side next to him, back facing him. Her brown hair spread out over the pillow. She hadn’t tried to cuddle, and thank god she understood what last night had been. 

Without a second though, he reached for her purse, careful not to wake the naked woman next to him as he eased into a sitting position. Relief flooded him when his fingers glided over the pack of cigarettes and lighter. 

There was no hesitation as he put the cigarette to his lips and flicked the lighter to life. The nicotine flooded his body for the first time in months. Finally, he found some relief. 

Journal Entry  August 13th, 1994 Dear Javi,

I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m sure you’re okay. Dad said there were no reports of anything happening. You’re just busy, with your first week back and all… 

Alejandra asks every morning if you called her back. Mateo asks too. I think he’s hoping for stories of chasing down bad guys. Even Miguelito asked about you. 

We all miss you so much. 

Javier played the voicemail over and over, but he couldn’t bring himself to call back. He hadn’t lasted a day into the job without reverting to old habits. He’d fooled himself into thinking things could be different, into thinking if he did this the right way, if he brought down Cali the right way, he could be worthy of her one day. 

The whiskey burned on its way down. 

Journal Entry August 15th, 1994 Javier, 

I swear if you went and got yourself killed on your first week back, I’ll never forgive you. I won’t even say any nice words at your funeral. Imagine that, your best friend holding back all the nice things about you. The world can just remember you to be the asshole you showed them.

Seriously though, signs of life would be appreciated.

…………………………………………………………………..

Taglist: @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @burntheedges @southernbe @fanyyoouu @greengirlwurld

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @weho2kcmo

[ltwilliammowett]

Good to hear that, at first it was to be assumed that Colombia wanted to turn the wreck and the treasures into money, but that's better. Now just be careful that it doesn't get looted.

[cherry-holmes]

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña

Chapter 15

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Six months ago you spoke with Javi for the last time. Now, you tried to continue with your life without him.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: Angst. Talk of depression. Mention of daddy issues. Brief description of reader’s body. I decide not to give more warnings to avoid spoilers, so keep the reading under your own responsibility, but in general this contains +18 material.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I knew you

Leavin' like a father

Running like water, I

And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

The smell of smoke would hang around this long

'Cause I knew everything when I was young

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Finally, on December 2, 1993, Pablo Escobar died in Medellín, bringing an end to years of violence and fear to the country. Of course, the ghosts of evil would linger over for a long time. The narcoviolence was a vicious cycle that corroded everything it touched. But for now, the police of Colombia and the DEA had shown that there were still good people and hope. Even if ir wasn't completely true.

When you saw Steve's photo in the newspaper, you felt proud of him, of course, but you knew that Javier deserved to be there too. He had given many years of sacrificing his own safety and personal life to fulfill his duty. There was no other American who had done as much for his country than Javier Peña. He deserved recognition, he deserved to be decorated and rewarded for his years of service.

But instead, he was being judged for using unorthodox methods to do his job. It wasn't ideal, but it was effective in the end. Who hasn't looked for alternatives in their most desperate moments? They didn't deserve a man like him. And now he was paying the price.

You hadn't heard anything about him since that last call, six months ago. You didn't know if he had been judged or sentenced yet. And you weren't sure if you even wanted to know.

Days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, weeks had turned into months. While everything around you seemed to continue its normal course, you felt stuck in Bogotá. Memories of warm nights with him, hurried breakfasts in his truck, and cozy dinners at home lingered, haunting you like ghosts of a past life. You tried to distract yourself, to focus on the routine of daily life, but thoughts of Javier lingered like shadows in the corners of your mind. You wore the necklace he gave you on your birthday like a charm. It was your most precious treasure, the three pearls representing the love he had for you and you for him. Your fingertips sought it out every time you felt down, sometimes unconsciously.

You found it difficult to concentrate on something else, your thoughts constantly drifting back to him, to the uncertainty that clouded his future.

You started to think that maybe the problem lay within you, that you were somehow unworthy of having the man you loved beside you. Doubts ate away at your confidence, questioning your worthiness of love in any form. In the late hours of the night, you grappled with the echoes of your past, recalling the pain of your father's abandonment when you were just a child. That trauma left a deep hole of abandonment in your heart, a wound that never fully healed. And now, facing Javier's absence, it felt like history was repeating itself. The two men you had loved the most had left you, leaving behind a trail of broken promises and shattered dreams. Yes, you still had your beloved grandfather, José, but in those moments of anxiety and depression, you couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with you to not been worthy of love.

Your mother wasn't very helping either, as she wasn't very kind towards you. She never asked you how you were now that you came back or told you she missed you. And when everything with Javi happened, she made cruel comments, hinting that for him you were just another woman and that it was your fault for sleeping with him and not respecting yourself.

However, you had your sisters who supported you through the grief, and the love of your abuelo meant everything.

He was a lawyer, and he offered you a temporary job on his independent buffet while you find a job that suit your requirements.

Losing your dream job as a translator in a foreign country, enduring very difficult situations that put your life in danger, and losing the love of your life—all the trauma and heartbreak left a hole in your chest. It felt as though a part of you was missing, as though you were navigating the world with a piece of your soul torn away.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The Saturday sun bathed the cobblestone streets in a warm, golden glow as you emerged from the church, your heart still echoing the hymns of worship. Beside you, your beloved abuelo walked, his arm linked with yours, his weathered face radiant with the peace of faith.

"What do you want to eat, papá?" You asked him.

"Sarita told me about a new restaurant," he answered as your mother joined his side, "She said they have delicious barbacoa and consomé."

"I don't think you should eat that, papá," your mother intervened, her brow frowned. From the look on her face, you knew she was going to confront Sara for craving such food for grandpa. "The doctor said..."

"The doctor said many things, María," he replied firmly. "I'm going to die anyway, so I'm gonna eat my birria!"

You smiled to your abuelo's stubbornness, and although you knew that your mother could be right, you just couldn't help but want to fulfill his cravings.

"Okay, papá, we all going to have barbacoa," you promised.

Before your mother could say anything to you, your nephews and nieces ran by your side, pointing towards the churro seller.

"¡Tía, cómpranos churros!" they shouted, and you found yourself outnumbered by them.

"Okay, okay!" You smiled as you watched them bouncing in front of you. "Everyone line up by height and ask the señor de los churros nicely for yours."

Your nephews and nieces cheered at unison and ran towards the vending cart. Both your sisters insisted on pay for their own children churros, but you told them that you wanted to buy churros for everyone.

As your sisters and their husbands agreed with your grandfather and your mother to all go to eat to the restaurant Sara propose to your abuelo, you tried to help the churro's vendedor not going crazy with all four children. All of them were under ten years old, so you can imagine how noisy and playful – and troubling – they can be.

As the kids devoured their churros, you juggled between keeping an eye on them and ensuring they didn't wander off too far. Their laughter filled the air, echoing against the cobblestone streets as they ran around in playful abandon.

Guiding your nephews and nieces back to your family, you barely noticed the bustling activity around you until a familiar voice pierced through the chaos. "I've always known that you look even more beautiful around kids."

You froze in disbelief, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. You turned around and saw Javier standing there. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you took in the sight of him. He looked different, yet somehow the same—the same rugged charm, the same warm gaze that had always captivated you. His mere presence was like a jolt of electricity, sending shivers down your spine and stirring emotions you thought long buried.

As the reality of his presence sank in, a whirlwind of emotions swept through you. Part of you wanted to run into his arms, to hold him close and never let go. Another part wanted to push him away, to confront him for leaving without a word, for breaking your heart with his silence.

But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the pain and regret reflected in his gaze—the same pain you had been carrying in your heart all these months. And in that moment, all your anger and hurt melted away, replaced by a flood of overwhelming love and longing.

"Javi?" your voice cracked, eyes inevitably flooded with tears. ''How...?''

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I shouldn't have left you like that."

Without another word, you closed the distance between you, your heart pounding with anticipation. Javier's eyes softened as you reached out, your arms trembling as they closed around his torso. The touch was electrifying, sending a surge of warmth coursing through your veins.

You couldn't understand exactly how he was right there, what happened during all those months?, how the hell did he found you? But he was there, he was between your arms again... His warmth, his scent, his beating heart beneath your ear, were things you thought you would never feel again.

"¿Tía?" you heard the little voice of Ana, the youngest of your nieces, as she pulled the skirt of your dress. "Is this Javi? The boy you always cry for?"

You glanced down at her, innocent eyes wide with curiosity, and then back at Javier, uncertainty clouding your thoughts. How could you explain the complexities of love and loss to a child?

"Ana, come here," Silvia, her mother, approached to grab her. She looked at Javi and then back at your watering, reddened eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you answered, a smile prompting on your lips, blush coloring your cheeks. It was the first time in a long, long time that you felt a genuine sense of emotion and happiness since you arrived in your birth-town. "Silvi, this is Javi. Javi, this is my sister."

Javier extended his hand towards Silvia, a warm smile gracing his lips. "Nice to meet you, Silvia," he greeted, his voice gentle and sincere.

Silvia's expression changed upon recognizing his name. Her eyes softened as she shook Javier's hand. "Likewise," she replied, her eyes flickering with curiosity. Of course, she had memorized his name and appearance through the photos you had shown her and Sara of your time in Colombia with Javi. Your sisters had wiped your tears and listened to your heartbreaking cries for him.

You saw your family approaching you, everyone seeming curious and expectant. Your hands were shaking, your heart felt like it could punch through your chest. So had so many questions, so many things to say to him. Suddenly, you felt overwhelmed.

"Buenas tardes," your abuelo approached to you. You recognized that look on his face, the same he had every time you or your sisters met a new boy. Your abuelo had always been the jealous kind, but in a sweet way.

Javier greeted your abuelo, extending his hand in a gesture of respect. "Mucho gusto, Don José. Javier Peña," he said, his voice resonating with genuine warmth, remembering your grandfather's name.

Your abuelo's eyes twinkled mischievously as he shook Javier's hand. "¡Ah! So you're the famous Javier," he replied, his tone tinged with playful teasing.

Javi looked at you with a playful arched brow, causing your face turned completely red, like a tomato. You were the most gorgeous tomato he had ever seen in his life.

"Everyone, I want you to meet Javier," you said, gesturing towards him with a smile. "Javier, this is my family."

Your sisters and their husbands exchanged glances, their eyes bright with curiosity as they greeted Javier warmly. "Nice to meet you, Javier," Sara said, extending her hand.

Javier shook her hand with a polite nod. "You too. You must be Sara."

Sara chimed in, her excitement palpable. "Yeah, it's great to finally meet you in person."

Your mother, who had been observing quietly, offered a reserved nod of acknowledgment, her expression unreadable.

As the greetings subsided, Silvia turned to Javier. "Hey, why don't you join us for lunch at the restaurant? We'd love to have you."

Before Javier could respond, you interjected gently, "Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a private conversation with Javier first. We can catch up with everyone later this afternoon at home."

Javier's stomach churned at your words. "Have a private conversation" sounded like you were about to have a serious discussion. He wasn't expecting you to receive him as if nothing happened, as if he hadn't broken your heart. He was surprised and relieved when you hugged him upon seeing him, but he thought it might have been just a quick reaction, an impulsive action prompted by the heat of the moment.

Silvia's eyebrows raised in surprise, but she nodded understandingly. "Of course, hermanita. We'll see you both at home then."

With a collective agreement, your family bid you and Javier farewell, dispersing toward the church's parking lot with chatter and laughter trailing behind them. You turned to Javier, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling in your chest, ready to finally have the private conversation you'd been yearning for.

"So, shall we take a taxi?" you said finally.

"Actually, I brought my truck," he said, pointing at the park across the street, where you saw a red 90s Chevrolet Silverado.

"You drove all the way here?" The thought of him driving three hours, crossing the border, just to see you stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you. It was both overwhelming and heartwarming to know that he had gone to such lengths to be with you.

"Of course, from Laredo" he confessed.

As you walked across the street towards his truck, the atmosphere between you felt familiar, bringing back a flood of memories. Javier unlocked the truck and held the door open for you, as you settled into the passenger seat, the scent of his cologne enveloped you, filling you with a sense of comfort.

Once you were there, feeling overwhelmed by his return, after everything you had been throgh being away from him, thinking he was even in jail. It was too much, you barely could process it... You finally broke, as soon as Javi closed the drivers door, you started crying.

Javier's heart ached as he watched you cry, his own emotions swirling inside him like a tempest. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering over yours, unsure if he should offer comfort or give you space.

He called your sweet name in a way only he could. You felt shivers just hearing it, reminding you of the power he had over you.

You turned to him, tears streaming down your cheeks, your eyes filled with a mixture of sadness, relief, and confusion. "Why, Javi?" you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "Why did you leave me?"

Javier's heart clenched at the pain in your voice, the anguish etched into your features. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to face the truth, to lay bare his soul before you.

"I thought I was doing the right thing for you," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was trying to protect you."

You wanted to ask again "why?" but you knew it was unnecessary because you understood why. He was trying to shield you from becoming attached to a convict, a man who was not physically free. It had taken you a long time to grasp the magnitude of the situation and his sacrifice. Javier Peña wasn't a selfish man.

"It's important to me for you to understand that at that moment everything seemed to be against me," he continued, his eyes staring at you with longing and desperation, as he feared you wouldn't want to hear him or wouldn't believe him. "Don Berna betrayed me and forced Judy Moncada to leave Colombia and spill everything about the DEA agent who was foolish enough to trust them. I was told that I had committed a federal crime by getting involved with Los Pepes."

For a moment, the gravity of his words left you speechless, grappling with the enormity of what he had endured. You knew firsthand the dangers and complexities of his work, but hearing the details of his ordeal sent a chill down your spine.

"I had to make a choice," Javier continued, his voice tinged with regret. "I couldn't risk your safety, not when everything was falling apart around me. I thought I was doing what was best for you, even if it meant sacrificing my own happiness."

New tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to him, your hand trembling as it touched his. In that moment, words seemed inadequate to express the depth of your emotions, the overwhelming rush of love and forgiveness that flooded your heart.

"I missed you," you confessed, your voice barely contained. "I was devastated. Not only for how things between us ended, but for thinking about what would happen to you..."

Javier's gaze softened as he listened to your heartfelt words. He reached out, gently brushing away your tears with his thumb, his touch sending a wave of warmth through you.

"I missed you too, every moment," he admitted, his voice filled with raw emotion. "Not a day went by when I didn't think about you. Te amo."

"Javi?" you spoke softly, wiping your tears and turning your body to fully face him.

"Yes, bonita?" he said, and your stomach fluttered with thousands of butterflies that had been sleeping, waiting to hear that word he used to call you. Bonita, you'll always be his bonita.

"Kiss me already," you whispered, the words escaping your lips before you could hold them back.

With a tender smile, Javier leaned closer, his gaze softening as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. The air between you crackled with anticipation, the weight of months apart dissipating with each heartbeat.

As his lips met yours, a surge of warmth washed over you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering deep within. You let out a shaky moan when his tongue met yours, sending electricity to your core.

Javi growled at your reaction. He was so needed of your touch, your kisses; that skin-to-skin sensation he sink in when he made love with you. Cause even during the darkest moments when he feared he might spend the rest of his life behind bars, he couldn't bring himself to be with anyone else. He was yours, in body and spirit.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You and Javi were hungry and had so much to talk about. So you guided him through the city, searching for somewhere quiet to eat and converse. As he sat across from you at the table, perusing the menu, you still couldn't believe he was actually there—free and as handsome as ever. It felt like years had passed since Bogotá, the last time you saw him. Or maybe you suddenly died, your heart finally giving up missing him, and that was heaven.

Javi finally looked up from the menu, his gaze meeting yours. "Everything okay, sweetheart?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes as his broad hand reached across the table to touch yours.

"No... I mean, yes!" you said, your voice trailing off. "It's just... I'm so, so happy you're here, but I still can't process what happened."

Javi smiled, his eyes reflecting a mixture of tenderness and longing. "I promise, mi vida, I'll never leave you again," he vowed, his words a silent promise to cherish and protect you for as long as he lived.

The waiter approached, and you both placed your orders. After she left, you spoke again. "How did you find me?" you asked with genuine curiosity.

Monterrey was a sprawling metropolis, and in the '90s world, finding something or someone without an address or a phone number was no small feat.

Javier leaned forward, his expression radiating warmth. "It wasn't easy, but I remembered when you told me about going to church every Sunday with your family," he began, his voice low and intimate. "I recalled the name of the church and the municipality, so as soon as I arrived in the city, I searched for it. It took me all day yesterday, but I managed to get a lead, and it paid off. I found the right one."

You nodded, deeply impressed by his determination and resourcefulness. He was a proper DEA agent who spent years looking for and taking down sicarios. Of course, he was going to find his girlfriend on the first try. It was very sweet how he would do anything just to be with you, though, to have you back.

"I was fuckin' terrified that you were angry with me for leaving you like that," he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "Or worse, that you may have someone else already."

You looked at Javier, sensing the vulnerability in his eyes, and felt a pang of empathy. The thought of him fearing your anger or the possibility of you being with someone else touched you deeply.

"Javi, I could never be angry with you for trying to protect me," you said softly. "I was angry and devastated at first, I'm not gonna lie," you confessed, your chest aching with memories of those endless nights of overthinking and tears. "But it wasn't directed towards you, but towards life. I couldn't accept the decision you had to make, but with time, I came to understand that you only wished the best for me, and it was very sweet and unselfish."

You reached your delicate hand across the table to grasp his. "And as for someone else, there's never been anyone else for me. It's always been you."

His eyes softened, relief flooding his features as he squeezed your hand gently. "You're the only one for me, too, bonita. You're the best thing that could ever happen to this son of a bitch."

You leaned forward to kiss his lips. The familiarity of his touch was overwhelming and comforting at the same time.

When the meal was over and both of you were back in his truck, you asked him where he was staying.

Javier glanced at you, his expression thoughtful as he considered your question. He mentioned a hotel downtown, and you recognized it from what you had heard.

"You can stay a couple of days. I want to show you the city and introduce you properly to my family, if you don't mind," you proposed.

"Me encantaría pasar todo el tiempo del mundo contigo, mi vida preciosa," he said, and you flushed at the sweet nickname. "Actually, I was thinking about moving to a hotel closer to your house."

"That won't be necessary. You can stay with me," you offered without hesitation, feeling a rush of warmth at the idea of having him close again. "I'm living with my abuelo y mi mamá."

"I don't want to be a bother," he began, but you took his hand gently and looked into his puppy eyes.

"You're family now, and family never bothers," you assured him. "My abuelo has a spacious house, and you can stay in the guest bedroom. You know, we can sleep together..."

"That's okay, baby. I understand," he agreed, leaning over to place a kiss on your lips. "So, where do you want to go now? Wanna go home?" he asked, turning on the gear.

"Actually," you began, your cheeks burning and your heart pounding with anticipation, "I was thinking that we could go to your hotel."

With a mischievous grin, Javier glanced at you, his eyes alight with excitement. "Can we?" he asked, his voice filled with playful anticipation.

You smiled shyly, nodding as your cheeks turned cherry red. "Unless you want to spend the evening elsewhere."

Javier's eyes sparkled with amusement as he caught your playful tone. "Oh, I'm perfectly content to spend the evening wherever you desire," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of mischief.

You chuckled softly, feeling a rush of excitement tinged with nervousness.

"Be careful what you wish for, baby," he added, his voice filled with longing. "I've missed you so damn much."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The hotel room was nice, elegant and spacious. But of course you didn't noticed that at first, as you were very busy devouring Javi's mouth. He guided you towards the bed, hands squeezing the soft flesh of your hips; yours cupping his head.

"I love you," he muttered against your mouth, pausing briefly as you unbuttoned his shirt. "You don't have any idea how much I needed you. I couldn't breathe..."

His voice wavered with emotion, and you couldn't help but notice the vulnerability in his tone. Your fingers brushed against his lips, a silent gesture of reassurance. You still had a lot of questions, things that you would like to know, but you were sure that you had a lot of time to do it. For example, when his next move was to get rid of his shirt and you saw the scar on his side, where you knew he had been shot. Your fingers traced the damaged skin, your throat constricting at the sight of him being hurt, where he could have lost his life...

In that moment, you didn't want to cry anymore, to regret things that, fortunately, were in the past now.

"I'm here," your voice was barely a whisper, but he was close enough to hear every word. "I'm not going anywhere."

Javi nodded in agreement, leaning in to meet your lips once again. His skilled fingers unzipped the back of your dress, sending shivers all over your body as his fingertips met your skin. The light fabric pooled around your feet, his gaze darkening as it roamed over your body with desire.

His hands captured your waist, caressing the skin of your ribs and hips. His touch felt desperate, yet gentle. His fingers traced the exposed, soft skin at the edge of your bra, then smoothly moved to unclasp it, freeing the lace that covered your breasts.

You were hypnotized by the waves of heat emanating from both your naked torsos. Restless to relive that skin-to-skin sensation you longed for so much.

"God, how I missed your body," he whispered, almost unconsciously, as he devoured you with his eyes.

Your cheeks flushed even more, a shy smile appearing on your lips. "And I missed your touch, Javi," you confessed back.

With a mischievous grin, Javier glanced at you, his eyes alight with excitement. "Did you?," his voice filled with playfulness. "Did you touch yourself when you missed me?" He wanted to know. You nodded, an innocent gesture that made his cock throb on his pants. "C'mere. Show me," he ordered, leading you to the bed, where he had you lie back in the center.

Javi knelt in front of you, between your legs, your core aching with anticipation. "C'mon, take your panties off," he ordered, and you gladly obeyed.

Pushing your hips up, you grasped the edges of your panties with your fingers and began to slide the garment down your legs.

He couldn't help but hiss when he saw the glistening between your folds, where your honey pooled for him. "Touch yourself, baby, just like how you did when you were thinking of me," he whispered.

You traced a path on your skin, from the place above your belly button, down your body until your delicate middle finger met your slick. Javier was mesmerized as he watched you move up and down along your pussy, taking extra care every time you reached your clit, causing little whimpers to escape from your lips.

Suddenly, Javi felt his pants getting tighter; it was almost painful not to free himself. His hands went to his belt, and he started working on it. "Keep going," he encouraged you, as your eyes followed the glorious path of pubic hair that preceded his cock. You bit your lip, intensifying the movements on your pussy, the sound of your wetness filling the room.

"Don't be shy," he said, his voice thick with lust. "That little pussy looks so good."

You took his word and inserted one finger into your warm body. His breath quivered at the sight; he couldn't contain himself anymore.

"How does it feel?" he asked, as he took his hardened cock out of his briefs. You whimpered at the sight, your walls clenching, as if they were screaming to be stretched by its length. Javi took himself in hand and started jerking off to satisfy his own itch.

"G-good," you mumbled. It was true, but you knew it was nothing compared to the feeling of his cock inside you. So you added a second finger to try to calm your urgency, the gushing sounds surrounding you as you moved your fingers in and out of your pussy. But it wasn't enough. You wanted him.

"Javi..." you murmured.

"Tell me, bonita," he responded, his voice filled with anticipation. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you said, without stopping your movements.

"You want me? You want this?" he teased, showing off his cock right in front of you. A pearl of precum glistened on its tip, veins pulsating along its length. Your mouth watered at the sight. "C'mon, take it. It's yours."

He didn't have to tell you twice. You stopped what you were doing and knelt on the mattress to press your body against his. Your hand went directly to his cock, eliciting a growl from his chest.

Javi's cock fit perfectly in your tiny hand as you moved it up and down while kissing him passionately.

You let your body fall over his, and he didn't hesitate to allow himself to be placed underneath you. Your lips then moved to his neck, traveling down to his chest, his stomach... When he realized you were actually going south, he took your chin and made you look at him.

"That's not necessary..." he clarify. He wasn't expecting that.

"I want to," you insisted.

Without another word, you positioned yourself right over his cock, taking it in your hand and placing a kiss on its tip. "Fuck..." he reacted.

You were unsure what to do, as it was the first time you'd done it. You only wanted to make him feel good.

So you tried licking its head, the salty taste on your tongue making your pussy clench around nothing. Then, you attempted to take the head into your warm mouth. You had to open your mouth wider than you expected, your hand gently placed on its base. It was too big, hard, and too long.

You bobbed your head at a constant rhythm, encouraged by the moans and hisses he began to let out. Javi's hand went to your hair, gathering it into a ponytail, both to let you work easily and to clear his view. "Good job, baby," he praised.

When you tried to go further, its head at the back of your throat made you gag, so you had to take a breath. "Take it easy," he said reassuringly as he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "You're doin' amazing."

You went back to it, but this time a little lower. "Holy shhh..." he growled, feeling the wetness and warmth of your tongue licking his balls. They tasted salty, heavy on your lips. You closed your hand around his length, moving it up and down to please him. Slurping noises filled the room, amplifying the intensity. "You look so pretty taking my cock like that baby."

You alternated between using your mouth and your hand on his cock and his balls, growing more confident with each movement, trying to take him deeper as you could. Your mouth felt like heaven for him, but he needed to stop. He wanted to fuck to you properly instead of just cum on your tongue. There would be another chance for that.

After a moment, Javi sat on the bed and gestured for you to do the same. You could barely catch your breath before his mouth captured yours, his arm around your waist. You knelt in front of him, providing easy access to your breasts, and he didn't miss the opportunity, capturing one of your nipples into his mouth. You threw your head back, moaning at the sensation, your fingers tangled in his hair.

He worshipped your body, squeezing your hips and back, massaging your ass with his broad hands. Then his fingers found your soaked pussy, taking advantage of how wet you were as he introduced one of them inside you. You whimpered, moving your hips over his hand, desperate to quell the need for him. He added a second thick finger, stretching you so damn good. They slipped in and out without effort, and Javi could feel your slick running down the bare palm of his hand.

Javi licked the sensitive skin of your nipple before shifting to your other breast. He sucked and played with the tip of his tongue on the nipple, just like he did when he played with your clit, like a starved man.

"Javi..." you whimpered.

Once he was satisfied with how wet you were, he guided his cock to your entrance as you instinctively lowered your hips. Both of you moaned as he made his way inside you, stretching your walls. The sensation was painfully familiar for both of you, the feeling of being connected in an intimate, raw way. It was as if you were born for each other, like you belonged together beyond the physical realm.

He didn't waste any time, going straight to help you move over him. Once you understood the assignment, your hips started working almost on their own. "That's it, bonita, give it to me."

You could feel him very deep inside you, his tip brushing against the entrance of your cervix, his balls thrusting against you every time you went down. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him, engaging in a battle of tongues and a tangle of legs.

"Your cock feels amazing, mi amor, la extrañé mucho," you whispered in his ear before you bite his earlobe.

"That's why you wanted to suck my cock?" he asked, his fingers gripping tighter on your hips, urging you to move faster. "My fuckin' dirty girl, so right for me..."

"Wanna see how dirty I can get?" placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him back so he could lie down again.

He was pleased with the view. The curves of your body, every roll, every pore, every freckle, every stretch mark. You were so sexy and gorgeous.

He tried to reach for your body, but you took his wrists and placed them over his head. You started moving your hips: up and down, front and back. At first, it was slow, savoring every inch of his cock slipping inside you. Then, you moved faster, riding him as whimpers escaped from your mouth, joining the skin-to-skin sound of your bodies thrusting together. Your hands went to his chest for more balance as you rode him.

"That's it, baby. Don't stop...fuck..." he grunted, his hands on your ass to help you keep going.

You slowed down when your legs began to ache, leaning down to capture his lips. His broad, warm hands caressed your hair, trailing down to your shoulders and back until they reached your waist. With a swift, smooth movement, Javi turned you around. Before you could process it, your body was beneath his, and he penetrated you again. This time, the soft moan you made when you felt him inside was silenced by his mouth.

"I love you, bonita," he promised, moving his pelvis against yours.

With your hands cupping his head, little whimpers escaping your lips, you echoed the sentiment. "I love you so much, Javi."

His thrusts grew harder and faster, his arms bearing his weight to avoid crushing you. His growls and whimpers were music to your ears. Your lips caressed the soft skin of his neck, your hands roamed everywhere along his broad back. He was lost in you, shivers crossing his entire being every time he reached that deep spot inside you, eliciting cries of his name from your lips.

"You like that, bonita? Hm?" he breathed out, his voice captivated by his own pleasure. "Fuck, I love your pussy."

Your orgasm was so close, he could tell by the way your walls clenched around his length, and the rivers of your nectar emanating from your cunt. You tried to warn him, but you could only mumble as your body shuddered beneath him. "I know, baby... Fuck, I'm gonna cum too."

You felt how he was doubtful about his next move. He wanted you to come, of course, but he was so dangerously close to his own release that he needed to be careful not to come inside you. But you were so horny and lost on the pleasure that you knew you want his load dripping out your pussy.

So you tangled your legs around his torso, forcing him inside you. "I'm gonna cum..." he warned.

"It's okay... I want you to fill me up..." you moan.

"Yeah? That's what you want, honey?" He cooed, his lips placing soft, wet kissed on your jawline.

You nodded, "Ye-yes! Fuck, Javiii!" that's the only thing you could say, as his movements were almost erratic, hungrily against you.

"I'm gonna fuck a baby into you... What about that?" he grunted, the mere thought of it made the both of you shiver with pleasure.

"Yes! Oh my... Yes! I-wa.... I'm wanna have your baby, Javi," you mumbled, so lost on the moment that you couldn't even think about the weight of the words you spoke.

"I'm gonna cum so deep on you that you're gonna smell like me for days, baby."

Those were the words that made you finally lost it. Your entire body seemed to implode for a moment before it exploded on a devastating orgasm. Throwing your head back against the mattress, your nails digging on the muscles of his arms and toes curling as your squirted on his cock. A silent scream of pleasure took the shape of Javi's name.

With one last final thrust, Javier followed you reaching his release between deep-voice whimpers and grunts of your name over and over again. You felt his warm load filling up, mixing with your slick, making you clenched even more, milking him so damn good.

As he felt himself softening, he pulled out and lay beside you as both of you tried to catch your breath again. Finally, Javi wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest, the warmth of his body comforting against your skin. You lay there together in silence, the only sounds filling the room were the rhythmic beating of your hearts and the soft exhales as you both recovered from the intensity of your lovemaking.

After a while, Javier felt your body shake a bit, and it wasn't long before he heard you sniffing. Were you crying? He tried to see your face, but you hid from him with your face against his chest. It was evident that you were crying. He felt a pang in his chest, concern washing over his face as he tried to make you look up at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice charged with worry and guilt. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no," you rushed to say, wiping your tears with your fingers as his brushed your hair and placed it behind your ear. "You didn't do anything. I'm just so happy."

Javier's expression softened as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I'm here, mi amor," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm not leaving you ever again."

You melted into his embrace, feeling safe and loved in his arms, the bliss of your orgasms still lingering on your bodies. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back. "I really meant it."

Struggling not to fall asleep, since you still had to return to your grandfather's house, you asked, "What?" Your voice was soft, barely audible above the hushed rhythm of your breathing.

"I want to have babies with you." His words hung in the air, tinged with both sincerity and excitement.

You flushed, a warmth spreading across your cheeks as you processed his declaration. Your heart started to beat faster, and you didn’t even think he was completely serious yet.

"Well, we have to get married first, then," you replied, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

"I know,” he added, determination on his tone, “I'm going to ask your grandfather for your hand tomorrow." His eyes meeting yours with unwavering resolve.

"Are you serious?" Your voice was tinged with surprise, a mixture of disbelief and anticipation.

Javier nodded, his gaze softening as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Absolutely serious," he affirmed, his tone earnest. "¿Quieres casarte conmigo?”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a rush of emotions welling up inside you. New tears of joy fell down your cheeks as you nodded repeatedly. "¡Sí! Sí quiero, Javi. Quiero casarme contigo," you admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Then it's settled," he declared, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer to him again. "Tomorrow, I'll talk to your grandfather, and soon after, we'll start planning our wedding."

You nestled closer to him, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. You still couldn’t believe what was happening in that moment. Just that morning, your heart ached with his absence, and you couldn't imagine seeing him ever again. If someone had told you that same afternoon you would be in his arms again, making love with him, and practically engaged, you wouldn't have believed it. You would have thought it was a cruel joke. And yet, there he was with you, vowing to share a life together.

NEXT CHAPTER

[the-empress-7]

For more than 4,000 years, emeralds have been among the most valuable of all jewels.

Colombia, located in northern South America, is the country that mines and produces the most emeralds for the global market, as well as the most desirable.

It is estimated that Colombia accounts for 70–90% of the world's emerald market. While commercial grade emeralds are quite plentiful, fine and extra fine quality emeralds are extremely rare. Colombian emeralds over 50 carat can cost much more than diamonds of the same size.

The Colombian departments of Boyacá and Cundinamarca, both in the Eastern Ranges of the Colombian Andes, are the locations where most of the emerald mining takes place.

Although the Colombian emerald trade has a rich history that dates as far back as the pre-Columbian era, the increase in worldwide demand for the industry of the gemstones in the early 20th century has led prices for emeralds to nearly double on the global market.

Until 2016, the Colombian emerald trade was at the center of Colombia's civil conflict, which has plagued the country since the 1950s.

For thousands of years, emeralds have been mined and considered one of the world's most valuable jewels.

The first ever recorded emeralds date back to ancient Egypt, where they were particularly admired by Queen Cleopatra.

In addition to their aesthetic value, emeralds were highly valued in ancient times because they were believed to increase intelligence, protect marriages, ease childbirth, and thought to enable its possessor the power of predicting future events.

An ancient Colombian legend exists of two immortal human beings, a man and a woman—named Fura and Tena—created by the Muisca god Are in order to populate the earth.

The only stipulation by Are was that these two human beings had to remain faithful to each other in order to retain their eternal youth. Fura, the woman, however, did not remain faithful.

As a consequence, their immortality was taken away from them. Both soon aged rapidly, and they eventually died. Are later took pity on the unfortunate beings and turned them into two crags protected from storms and serpents and in whose depths Fura's tears became emeralds.

Today, the Fura and Tena peaks, rising approximately 840 and 500 meters, respectively, above the valley of the Minero River, are the official guardians of Colombia's emerald zone. They are located roughly 30 km north of the mines of Muzo, the location of the largest emerald mines in Colombia.

Historians believe the indigenous people of Colombia mastered the art of mining as early as 500 AD. But Spanish Conquistadors are the ones who are credited with discovering and marketing globally what we now call Colombian emeralds.

Colombia, during pre-colonial times, was occupied by Muzo indigenous people, who were overpowered by Spain in the mid-1500s. It took Spain five decades to overpower the tribal Muzo people who occupied this entire mining area.

Once in control, the Spanish forced this native, indigenous population to work the mining fields that it previously held for many centuries.

Monarchs and the gem-loving royalty in India, Turkey, and Persia eventually sought the New World treasures once the gems arrived in Europe.

These new emerald owners expanded their private collections with spectacular artifacts bedazzled with emeralds between 1600 and 1820, the time frame of Spain's control over the Colombian mines.

After Colombia's independence from Spain in 1819, the new government and other private mining companies assumed mining operations. Over the course of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, these mines were periodically shut down numerous times because of political situations within the country.

Colombian emeralds are much sought after, and not just because of their superb quality and color. A gem's value depends upon its size, purity, color and brilliance. Even when they are mined in the same area, each individual emerald has its own unique look that sets it apart from the rest.

Dark green is considered to be the most beautiful, scarce, and valuable color for emeralds. An emerald of this color is considered rare and is only found in the deepest mines of Colombia.

The eastern portion of the Andes, between the Boyacá and Cundinamarca departments, is where most Colombian emeralds are mined.

The three major mines in Colombia are Muzo, Coscuez, and Chivor. Muzo and Coscuez are on long-term leases from the government to two Colombian companies, while Chivor is a privately owned mine. Muzo remains the most important emerald mine in the world to this date.

The terms Muzo and Chivor do not always refer to the particular mines that carry the same name. Instead, the two terms, originating from the local indigenous language, often describe the quality and color of emeralds. Muzo refers to a warm, grassy-green emerald, with hints of yellow. Chivor, on the other hand, describes a deeper green color.

Thank you for this great reference material! Colombian emeralds are absolutely world renowned. But, when it comes to wearing the fuck out of emeralds no one can out do the Ambanis. This necklace alone is rumored to be worth $60 million USD 😮‍💨

[mapsontheweb]

A c. 1589 map showing the port of Cartagena on the Spanish Main (now in modern Colombia). Cartagena was one of the main ports for the Spanish treasure fleets and acted as a collecting point for gold, silver, emeralds, and pearls from Colombia and Venezuela. The map by Baptista Boazio shows the attack by Francis Drake in 1586. (Library of Congress)

[fatehbaz]

Caribbean cruise vacations have a long violent history. Earlier today, I came across one of the early print advertisement illustrations for the Caribbean cruise ship vacations offered by “the Great White Fleet.” And I pondered bananas.

Just as uncomfortable as it sounds. The story of the origin of the Caribbean cruise industry is, after all, also the story of the origin of the term “Banana Republic.”

In 1914, the Great War began as the planet’s powerful empires of old were collapsing, as British, French, Austro-Hungarian, Ottoman, Russian, and Qing/Chinese powers were marred by internal revolt and global warfare. But in 1914, the United States completed their Panama Canal and consolidated power in Latin America and the Caribbean, celebrating the ascent of a “new” empire made strong, in part, by bananas.

As of 2022, bananas generate 12 billion dollars per year, with 75% of bananas exported from Latin America and the Caribbean.

The planet’s single biggest banana-producing company is Chiquita. The Chiquita brand was previously known as United Fruit Company, which had essentially monopolized the banana industry in Latin America. United Fruit Company has a bit of an image problem, following its theft of Indigenous land across Central America in the early 20th century; its role in provoking the killing of tens of hundreds/thousands of plantation laborers during the Banana Massacre of 1928; the company’s direct role in the CIA-backed toppling of the Guatemala government in the 1950s; and the company’s role in paying to harass and intimidate labor organizers in Colombia in recent decades.

But what of the “romance” and “adventure” of the Caribbean?

So it’s 1915 or 1916.

Middle of the Great War. Classic empires are disintegrating: Spanish empire, British empire, Austro-Hungarian empire, Russian empire, Ottoman empire, remnants of the Qing/Chinese state, etc. And whose empire is rising? United States, an empire expanding in the Caribbean, Central America, and South America. After the 1898 Spanish-US war, as Teddy Roosevelt’s cartoon cavalry conquered Cuba, the Spanish Main belongs to the US of A. The US Navy controlled the Caribbean Sea, and was aiming to expand across the Pacific Ocean, to Hawai’i and beyond.

But the official US Navy isn’t the only fleet upholding the empire. The United Fruit Company had its own fleet.

The text of one of these Great White Fleet ads, from 1916, adorned with imagery of a blue-and-gold macaw and an aerial map of the Caribbean, reads:

“[W]here winter never comes and where the soft trade winds bring renewed health. [W]ith all the comforts and all the luxuries of life you enjoy aboard the palatial ships of the GREAT WHITE FLEET. Delicious meals a la carte [...]. Dainty staterooms, perfectly ventilated [...]. [A]mid the scenes of romance and history in the Caribbean. And with it the opportunity to win for yourself a treasure of health and happiness, of greater benefit than the fabled fountain of youth, sought by Spanish adventurers in the tropic isles of the Spanish Main.”

Who’s leading the charge?

The United Fruit Company!

From the May 1916 issue of Red Book. Image source, from Archive dot org:

Another:

Image source, from Archive dot org:

“There the Pirates hid their Gold -- and every voyage, every port, every route of the Great White Fleet through the Golden Caribbean has the romance of buried treasure, pirate ships an deeds of adventure [...].”

The Golden Caribbean.

The same region where Columbus murdered Indigenous people, where the US and France had just spent 100 years punishing Haiti with unending economic warfare afters slaves rebelled against colonization, and where the United Fruit Company would now set up shop.

The company’s plantations would expand across Central America, establishing brutal racial hierarchies and essentially controlling federal governments of Central American nations.

In 1928, over 30,000 laborers were on strike at banana plantations in Colombia. They demanded payment of actual wages, rather than the credits they were given which were mostly only redeemable at company-owned stores in company towns. The US government threatened to send the Marine Corps to intervene if the “subversive” workers would not return to UFC’s plantations. In December 1928, after martial law had been declared, General Cortes Vargas entered the town square of Cienaga (Magdalena) during Sunday gatherings, with machine guns, opening fire on the crowds, and killing perhaps 3,000 people.

In the late 1940s, the United Fruit Company intensified its ad campaigns led by propagandist Edward Bernays (nephew of Sigmund Freud???), who also practiced his skill at manipulative advertising when working to popularize the American Tobacco Company by showing women smoking “torches of freedom” and linking “women’s rights” to cigarette iconography.

Bernays, who explicitly wrote about his “counter-Communist” intention in the ads, was “drafted” in the war to topple ascendant leftist governments. After 1944 and after Arevalo’s labor reforms, Jacobo Arbenz Guzman took control of Guatemala in 1951, and took over 200,000 acres from United Fruit Company and returned them to poor families. Bernays launched propaganda attacks against Guatemala, helping to plant stories about Guatemala eventually carried in the Saturday Evening Post, New York Herald Tribune, and Reader’s Digest. In January 1952, Bernays personally led a tour of Central America, accompanying publishers and editors of Newsweek, the Miami Herald, the San Francisco Chronicle, the Cincinnati Enquirer, Scripps-Howard, and Time magazine. When the CIA-trained military force led by Carlos Castillo Armas invaded Guatemala, with CIA aerial support, installing Castillo Armas as president, Bernays called them an “army of liberation.”

Bananas and Caribbean cruises aren’t the only culprits in expanding imperial power in Latin America, the tropics, and the Global South.

In 1914, the same year that the United States finished the Panama Canal and consolidated power in Latin America and the Caribbean, Richard Strong was a newly appointed director of Harvard’s new Department of Tropical Medicine. Strong was also appointed director of the Laboratories of the Hospitals and of Research Work at United Fruit Company. Strong toured the company’s plantations in Panama, Costa Rica, Guatemala, Honduras, and Cuba. In the coming years, Strong would also personally approach Harvey Firestone, chief executive of the Firestone company, which owned and brutally operated rubber plantations in tropical West Africa. Research in tropical medicine was thus inaugurated by and dependent on colonial/imperial plantations and racial/social hierarchies at United Fruit Company and Firestone sites across the tropical regions, planetwide. Strong is just one character that demonstrates the interconnectedness of academia, fruit plantations, rubber supplies, food distribution, motor vehicle industries, strike-breakers, military forces, imperial expansion, and other tendrils of violently-enforced racist power.

Today, in 2022, Chiquita maintains twenty thousand employees across 70 countries. 

I think about this as I eat a banana for lunchtime. I think about this when I see the Edenic portrayal of a Caribbean shore, a landscape baked not so much by the tropical sun but instead scarred by centuries of genocide, slavery, and plantation labor, where government officials gleefully report “with honor” on the massacre of thousands.

“Just a banana, it ain’t.”

Agreed.

[gracie7209]

Amaryllis Chapter 11: Stay

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Word Count: 4.4K

Rating: E

Summary: Tom is at the safe house with Santi, giving you and Frankie the opportunity to make up for lost time.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, light angst, LOTS of feelings, smut, unprotected PIV (be safe y’all), fingering, I’m actually shocked but no Oral, I think that’s it, but let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: This takes place basically at the same time as Chapter 10. Also, I’ve had children so I know not everyone is ready for certain activities for a certain amount of time after having said children, but can be different depending on the person. Hopefully that doesn’t pull anyone out of the story, but figured it was worth mentioning just in case.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After listening to Tom’s confession, Frankie was ready to go to the safe house and finish this himself. He couldn’t stand to hear Tom’s voice, let alone hear the way he talked to you. You were so strong. God… he was completely in awe of your strength.

He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Tom could treat you in such a way when you were literally the human embodiment of pure good. Innocence and light. Frankie saw you as something to be treasured and he did. Every moment he had with you, he held close to his heart.

Your arms were wrapped around Frankie’s middle, your cheek resting against his chest. He had one hand rubbing reassuring circles into your back while the other held the back of your head, holding you to him.

The two of you are standing in your living room. Initially intending to listen to the recording while seated on your couch, once you heard Tom’s words, you turned involuntarily into Frankie and he held you instead.

He was here. He was safe. But it didn’t stop the fear that came with Tom’s admission. Tom truly thought he had murdered Frankie and was confident enough that he told you. Even after everything.

“Hey, it’s ok.” And almost as a reassurance to himself, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere..” Having repeated those same words over and over since returning, he had almost convinced himself that he was in fact, here with you and that he wouldn’t just wake up one day, alone, back in Colombia.

You look up to his face, eyes full of tears, and just take a minute to really look at him.

He holds your gaze and the two of you just take one another in. Thinking about how different things are now. How, the prospect of you being rid of Tom forever is no longer just a fantasy. That the freedom you have always longed for was right there and you weren’t going to let anything stop you.

You bring your hands to his face and without hesitation you bring him to you, his lips fitting perfectly to yours in your first real kiss since before Colombia. As if he’d just been awaiting your permission, he places a hand on your cheek with his thumb pulling down on your chin, opening you up for him. His lips crash into yours, completely enveloping your mouth, all consuming. All of the pain he had endured in the last two months seeping through into his kiss and you find it hard to breathe with its intensity.

He pulls away from your mouth, kissing down your neck. His lips leave a scorching path in their wake as he makes his way to your collarbone.

You accidentally knock his hat off when you bring your hands up to his head. It lands on the coffee table with a thunk that falls on deaf ears, your attention solely focused elsewhere. With your fingers tangling in his hair, he starts making small whimpering noises against your skin. You don’t think he even realizes what he’s doing. The sounds aren’t overtly sexual, but you think the intimacy of your situation along with missing you, and simply being here, is getting to be too much.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” he sniffs, his face still buried in your neck. “I’m fine….. it’s just a little overwhelming.” He lifts his face, touching his forehead to yours. There are tears in his eyes, his nose and cheeks are red, but the smirk on his face tells you that he’s more than ok.

“I love you.”

The words are said in a whisper, but they have your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline. His eyes close momentarily, just letting you take in his words, but when he opens them he pulls back slightly.

You’re not sure what to say. Even though you knew in your heart that he loved you and you loved him, the words never having been spoken to the other. You freeze, but not out of fear, just momentarily taken aback by the weight of those three little words.

Frankie whispers your name and says it again, “I love you.” He kisses the side of your mouth, saying it again. Kissing your cheek, he says it again. He says it each time his lips leave a different part of your skin as though he just can’t help it, until you grab his face, looking into his eyes. The warm brown is so comforting and inviting, and now currently laced with something else. His lips are swollen, and you take this moment to softly press your mouth back to his, just feeling him against you. When you pull back, his eyes are closed, his breathing purposefully slow and steady… so you say the only thing on your mind—

“I love you too Frankie…”

Frankie’s eyes open, having not expected you to say anything back, but how could you not? You loved him, and the smile on his face tells you that he knows, of course he knows, but hearing the words coming from you means everything to him. He surges back in and meets your lips, hungrier this time. Wanting to be as close to you as could be possible.

You immediately open up for him, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth. You let him in with a gasp that he swallows down, your breathing picking up as heat blooms throughout your chest and neck.

Your fingers are in his hair and his hands are wrapped around your back with not an inch of space between you.

“Te extrañe.” I missed you… “So much. —It was… I was in literal hell without you, knowing you were stuck here with him.” Frankie is peppering your neck with kisses as words, both English and Spanish, escape him.

“So many days…. Not knowing…. if I could get back to you. What he would do to you..?” His words are spoken against your neck, between the searing touches of his lips and tongue against your overly sensitive skin. “All I wanted was to get back to you. You kept me alive Bonita….”

He suddenly stops his assault on your neck, pulling back slightly to look you in the eyes.

“I talked to you. I told you everything that happened. Everything that I should have said before I left. I never should’ve left you. It was stupid… and it only put you in danger.”

“No Frankie, I know why you left. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

Frankie’s eyes are still wet, the conversation yet again taking an emotional turn. “What if I didn’t come back? What if.. what if I had died out there? I almost did.”

“But you didn’t. You’re here, Frankie… you came back to me, to us..”

Frankie takes a second. The look on his face is pensive.. He looks like he wants to argue, but ultimately decides against it. Instead he gives you a firm nod, lowering his forehead down to yours.

You both just stay like that, warm and safe in each other's embrace. You’re not sure how much time goes by, but the burning trail that Frankie’s kisses had left behind on your neck is still very present and you decide then that you both have waited long enough.

“Frankie?” His eyes are closed, and he almost looks peaceful. Like his body and mind are finally able to relax. “Hmm? -”

“Te deseo….” -I want you— Frankie’s eyes snap open and he pulls back..

“Yeah?” And this time it’s your turn to simply nod in agreement. His eyes have always been so expressive. Saying so many things without uttering a single word. They never leave yours, the intense stare only makes you burn even brighter for him…

“Siempre te quiero..” —I always want you— he says in a low register that you feel all the way down to your toes. All you’re able to do is give a little whimper at his words before he’s on you.

This time, his intent is clear and you’re more than ready.

His hands are on either side of your face. His tongue and lips ravaging your mouth, as he walks you backwards. You think he’s going to move you both to the couch as it’s the closest thing in your proximity. Instead, he stops and turns you around so that you’re facing the hallway that leads to your bedroom. The one you share with Tom.

You look back at him with a question and he hopes he doesn’t ruin this with his selfish want. He motions toward your bedroom door. The thought of having you in your marital bed, a little depraved in hindsight, but in the moment he just wants to burn the memory of Tom away and replace it with himself.

“We don’t have to, I just…. I want to take my time with you.”

You’re blushing at just the mere thought…. He took such good care of you before, and you want to feel that again. And for you, the thought of making new memories in your bed, new memories with Frankie and not Tom, has you grabbing for his hand and practically dragging him with you. Your shirt and bra are lost along the way and his own shirt is discarded on the hardwood floor of the hallway as you enter the bedroom.

Your hands scramble for purchase on his belt, not breaking your kiss as you undo the buckle and pull it through the loops of his jeans…. “Fuck Bonita—.”

“—So pretty…” He leans forward and kisses you between your breasts, but you back away and turn so you can close the door. He follows and instantly has his hands on your hips. He’s mouthing behind your ear which ignites a trail of goosebumps down your neck and shoulder.

His hands wrap around your middle, palms flat as they try to feel every inch of skin available. You turn around suddenly and take Frankie’s hands in yours. Stepping back slightly, you just look at him for a minute.

His pupils are blown wide, the black completely enveloping the warm brown of his eyes. His lips are puffy and red, much like your own.

Seeing him now, when you were made to believe you never would again….? You’re trying your best to keep your emotions under control, so you distract yourself by raking your eyes across every plane of him - Down his neck and chest and the light smattering of hair there. The scars across his torso — some old— from a time before he knew you. But there’s also some new— from a time that both of you would rather forget.

His breathing is heavy, just watching as you continue your visual exploration of his body.

You want to take your time with him too…

Your eyes travel lower, his belly always being slightly soft, now hardened from his time away. You’re sad to think about why, but you’re also so thankful he’s here now. You silently hope that you get the opportunity to be with him like this again after, to take care of him, when everything else is said and done.

You had managed before to unbuckle his belt, but the button on his jeans still remains intact. You pull your hand from his to lightly scratch your nails through the trail of hair below his navel that you admittedly can’t get enough of. His muscles jump slightly from the contact, but he doesn’t pull away. You undo the button on his jeans and pull down the zipper, freeing your other hand to assist. Frankie isn’t sure what to do with his own hands, so they hang loose at his sides. His fingers twitching in anticipation — you don’t move to pull his jeans off yet. Instead opting to reach slightly into the waistband of his boxers, slowly — He’s still so sensitive that you’re barely there touches are driving him insane.

As your hand moves lower, Frankie grabs your hip. Your fingers run through the hair above his groin. Lightly grazing while looking up to gauge his reaction, not wanting to push him too far too fast.

“I’m ok bonita”— Your unspoken question answered.

—“Keep going…”

And so you do. Your hand slowly moves down to his already hard length… lightly tracing your fingertips from base to tip. Frankie’s eyes are closed and he gives a rough grunt when you finally grasp his cock in your hand. You hold him— adding a little more pressure before you start to move. His cock is big. You can barely wrap your fingers all the way around him. The soft skin is dry, but the heat emanating from him is scorching. You don’t want to grasp too tightly, opting instead for a firm, but teasing pressure. His stilted breaths come out quietly, his belly twitching with every brush of your fingers, trying to keep himself from making too much noise.

“It’s just us Frankie — Let me hear you. The baby’s room is far enough away. We won’t wake him.”

Frankie looks to you then and grabs your wrist, bringing you out of his jeans — He pulls you backwards until his legs hit the mattress — Turning you around, he sits down on the edge, seating you firmly onto his lap. Your back is to his chest and for a minute, he simply runs his fingers up and down your arms, your sides —tracing behind your neck. Running his hands down your back. You can feel how hard he is beneath you. He leans forward and puts his forehead against the back of your neck.

Frankie’s voice comes in a rough growl, “Can you feel that bonita?” And almost like a command, you feel a jump in the growing bulge in Frankie’s lap beneath you.

“Yes.” A lightly whispered response as your breathing picks up. You’re not sure what he’s planning.

His hands again come around your middle, meeting above the waistband of your leggings. His fingers duck underneath and lightly trace over your mound. His free hand reaches up to grasp your breast, teasing your nipple to a peak before lightly pinching and rolling it between his fingers. His forehead is still at your neck, so you reach behind and run your fingers through his hair. Closing your eyes as the fingers in your panties continue to move lower - gliding over the hair there and down over your seam lightly, no doubt feeling the mess of slick that had been steadily dripping from you. He pulls his hand out before you’re ready, holding it up in front of you. Frankie scissors his fingers to show you what you already knew to be there the moment he started kissing you in the living room.

You feel like you should be embarrassed by your obvious want, only you’re anything but. You want him. You’re glad he gets to see you this way—

Before you realize what’s happening, the weight on your neck disappears as Frankie ducks his head. Leaning to look over your shoulder, you’re face to face with him as he sucks your slick from his fingers — Pulling them out of his mouth with a pop and Frankie groans…“Fuckkkk…”

The hand at your breast squeezes tightly as his other hand dives back underneath your waistband, where he finally traces your clit with his ring and middle fingers, making your back arch with the sudden intensity. The hand at your breast reaches up to your throat, thumb lightly applying pressure to your chin to guide your mouth to his. With his mouth on you, his fingers never let up — He is lapping up your gasps as he picks up his pace on your clit.

He wants you to come first and you are all too happy to give him whatever he wants. You pull your head away slightly to tell him to go lower before capturing his lips again.

He dips his fingers, just barely brushing over your entrance. Fingertips rubbing over it, but never pushing inside of you. He moves even further down and you worry that he’s going to go for something else momentarily, but he lets up — Putting his thumb to your clit, he uses his index and pinky fingers to spread you, holding your lips open as his fingers continue rubbing over you. His thumb maintains a quick and steady pace on your clit, somehow using all five of his fingers on you at once. That paired with his tongue and lips on your mouth, he’s everywhere.

Your orgasm creeps up out of nowhere with Frankie swallowing your sounds as you come on a cry. He’s kissing you through it while his fingers continue holding you open, gently guiding you through your release.

Slowly, he removes his hand, grabbing your chest again lightly, but with both hands this time. His sweaty forehead resting on your neck again. Your slick painted across your skin.

“You ok?” His voice is wrecked, as his breathing has yet to slow down.

“Mmhmm…” is the only response you can conjure up at the moment…

After a few moments, your foggy brain clears and you go to stand up quickly and Frankie follows. You turn to him and waste no time in reaching down to start removing his pants. This time you were successful as he wasn’t about to try to stop you. His cock was so hard it was verging on painful, so it was a sweet relief to be rid of them. You go to take off your own, but this is where he decides to stop you.

“No ma’am,” he tuts at you. His hands grasp your waist and turn you both around so that your back is to the bed. It’s your turn to fall backwards and Frankie is immediately on you.

He brings his lips to yours and moves with you as you scoot back toward the head of the bed. His hands skate down your belly, until they reach the band of your leggings and Frankie quickly works them down and over your thighs, pulling them off of you. Then, parting your legs to open you up so he can slot himself between them. You reach down and grasp him again, painfully hard this time… The skin of his cock is slick with precum and with the way you were grinding on his lap, it’s a wonder to himself that he didn't blow his entire load. But for Frankie, it had been so long since he’d gotten to feel you, and it had only been the one time at that, so he was determined to wait until he could feel you around him again.

You begin to stroke him a few times, his breathing rough as he starts to lose himself.

“You feel so fucking good — I want to…” He’s starting to thrust into your hand. “Can I fuck you? Please?”

“Always the gentleman,” you tease. It’s endearing how careful he is with you.

Frankie looks at you then with a slight panic, but your eyes tell him it’s ok. He drops down, one forearm next to your head and his hand on your breast, toying with your nipple. The new angle makes it difficult to keep your movements steady so you stop, but continue holding him in your hand.

“I want you… So goddamn much. But, I will always give you the choice Bonita. Just say the words and we can do anything else — No questions.”

“Te deseo, Francisco.” You say it sharply to get his full attention as you put your free hand on his cheek, bringing his gaze back to you.

He gives you a firm nod before reaching his hand down over your own that is currently holding his cock. He keeps his eyes locked on yours and together you line him up with your core, the tip just barely grazing over your slick folds.

You bring your hands up and brace yourself on his shoulders before Frankie leans down to capture your mouth. His tongue glides past your lips as he finally pushes fully inside of you and you both groan in relief. Easing the stretch, he sets a slow, but steady pace — taking his time, just savoring the feeling of your warmth. He wraps a hand around the back of your thigh, hitching it up over his hips. The angle allows him to slip just that much deeper and he lets out a low growl when you gasp at the sudden change.

Way too soon, he pulls out almost all the way and your whine at the loss is instantaneous, you need him inside of you… “No, no, no Frankie please, please,”

“Shhhh, shhhh…” He whispers softly, pushing back in, so slowly that you lift your hips to try to meet him there before he does it again… “It’s ok, cariño. He pulls out again, leaving just the tip inside, keeping himself connected to you. “Frankie...” Your voice is pleading with him. Your limbs are trembling and you need him to move. “I’ve got you…” He brings his lips down close to yours and you go to pull him to you, but he holds firm — His lips barely ghosting over your own, over your chin, your jaw — He pushes himself back in slowly and you don’t know whether to scream in frustration or pleasure at the torturous pace.

“Tell me what you need…” Frankie places a barely there kiss to your throat.

“I need you to move… Frankie, please,” and you think you are going to actually lose your mind as he pulls back again, but this time he grips your inner thigh, moving behind your knee and pushes it up over his shoulder, your other leg wrapping around his waist almost on instinct— Opening you up for him.

And then…

He shoves himself back into you so quickly, it nearly knocks the breath out of you… His fingers, squeezing the meat of your thigh so hard with the exertion, will no doubt leave a bruising reminder for you later. You could honestly care less when he’s giving you exactly what you wanted. “Fuck! Yes….. is that it? —This what you needed?”

“Yes, Frankie, Oh my, fuck, God yes…”

“I’ll give you anything, anything…. Any damn thing you want.. It’s yours…”

“Fuck Frankie, don’t….. Don’t stop….”

“Wouldn’t…. Never…….” Each word punctuated with a sharp thrust. “Fuuuccckkk—I’m not gonna…. Last….. Need you to come…. Before…….” Frankie’s words are stuttering — so overwhelmed by you to form even a coherent thought let alone audible sentences.

You reach down between you to start rubbing your clit. You’re already so close, but this will no doubt send you over. See your movement, Frankie spouts “Oh, shit. Baby let me…..” His eyes focused on where you’re joined — Where your fingers are furiously rubbing… He brings his fingers down to replace yours and almost instantly you feel your orgasm coming. That heat coiling, pulling so tight, you’re barely hanging on — He brings his eyes to your face and your head is thrown back, mouth open and he knows you’re right there. “Look at me….” You open your eyes as Frankie increases the pressure on your clit. His quick pace as he continues to fuck you never waivering. Frankie’s mouth mirrors yours unconsciously as you begin to clench around him. Your orgasm triggers his own, but he doesn’t stop. Just pushes through as your pussy grips him so hard he’s spilling into you and he whimpers — Actually whimpers at how fucking good you feel —“God, Yes….. baby, fuck… feel that? You feel how hard you’re squeezing me? —Shit.” He leans his forehead to yours. “Yes,” you gasp. “I feel it Frankie….” He can feel your breath on his lips and dips to kiss you. You both are breathing heavily, almost in sync as you try to come down, your lips never straying but an inch or two from the other.

Frankie is still inside of you with his hand running up and down your side, up to your arm and then to your hand where he intertwines your fingers and brings them to his chest. He pulls away and plants a kiss to your hand, his eyes closed. His sweaty bangs are sticking to his forehead and you brush them to the side with your free hand. Gripping the back of his neck to bring his gaze to you, you lightly thread your fingers through the damp curls at his nape.

“I love you Frankie.” His eyes bore into yours with so much he wants to say, but settles for “I love you too…” And he kisses you again, pouring into your mouth the things he doesn’t have words to express.

—

Pulling out of you, he makes no move to get up, instead he readjusts until his face is resting on your breast and his arm lays across your stomach.

“Frankie?”

“Hmmm?” You can hear the sound of sleep catching up to him—

“Will you stay?” That seems to wake him up as his body tenses and he looks up to your face. “I not ready to leave… But, I’m just worried about”— He doesn’t even want to say his name. He doesn’t need to.

“Isn’t he still with Santi?”

“Yeah, last I knew they were still at the safe house.”

“Ok, and is the safe house nearby?”

“It’s probably about an hour or so away…. Why?”

“Then stay…. Tom is being dealt with for now, and Santi will let you know if anything goes wrong?” It’s a question, but one you already know the answer to.

Frankie thinks over your words. The thought of leaving you made his chest ache and he wasn’t ready for that. However, Tom was still a problem. Santi was working his magic and would make sure Tom was dealt with, however he couldn’t stop himself from worrying. But you were asking him to stay. He knew he couldn’t deny you anything. Especially when you gave him a valid reason not to. Santi would let you guys know if anything was up and he would have plenty of time to get away undetected if the situation arose where Tom was heading home.

So, Frankie nods his head… “Ok, Bonita… I’ll stay.”

Your eyes light up and you lean down to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m just not ready to say goodbye to you yet.”

“Well, lucky for you I couldn’t say no to you if I tried…..”

“Is that so??” You give a sly smirk.

“Don’t go using that against me later now… With great power,” his mind is still hazy, “comes uh being responsible with that power, or however the damn saying goes….” Your snarky smile makes him laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes sir,” and you give him your best mock solute that feels awkward as you’re probably doing it wrong, but he just continues to laugh with you.

He lays his head back down on your chest and you begin carding your fingers through his hair. His little ‘mmmmms’ make you smile and you can tell he is completely relaxed right now. Before too long the sounds stop and all that you hear are Frankie’s steady breaths— “Goodnight Frankie,” you whisper into his hair and you stay like that until you also fall asleep…. Feeling completely at peace for the meantime. Your body relaxed, and your heart full.

Taglist: @boliv-jenta @just-here-for-the-moment @harriedandharassed @quica-quica-quica @queridopascal-main @queridopascal @wildemaven @hnt-escape @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @bitchwitch1981 @sunnysidekit @tanzthompson @jb2856 @pastelnap @littlemisspascal @dashavau @imaswellkid @mymo-n @readingiskeepingmegoing @rhoorl @pimosworld @spookyxsam @luciferiorbxtch @alwaysdjarin @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

A/N: Thank You so much for reading! As always, please let me know if you would like to be tagged or if you’d rather not be tagged. This has been so much fun and I’m sad that we’re getting to the end. This chapter was a nice little reprieve because the next one has a LOT going on, but is hopefully still enjoyable. There’s only Chapter 12 and then the Epilogue left to go!

[leighrobertsreads]

El sol es nuestro reloj

@flashfictionfridayofficial 264: Counting Clocks

“The sun is our clock”

Fandom: Encanto (2021) Characters: Juancho (the Coffee Kid), Bruno Madrigal, Mirabel Madrigal Relationship: Bruno/Mirabel (engaged) Word count: 640 Also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57882766

Author’s note: school running through eighth grade for all children in the Encanto is my personal headcanon. It would have been amazingly egalitarian for early 20th century Colombia, where the vast majority of the population didn’t get to go to school past fifth grade, and certainly not with the children of the leading family in town: https://justinhauver.com/a-brief-history-of-education-in-colombia/

Aside from treasured pocket watches, many of which had ceased to move decades ago, there were very few clocks in the Valle del Encanto. The large one on the plaza bell tower was decorative, though the foreigner who came to the village last year and was designing an organ for the church claimed he might be able to build a clockwork for it. Unlike the spinning mill that was started as soon as they were lucky enough for a textile mill engineer to seek refuge in their valley, a lack of clocks was not a priority to remedy.

Instead, they could just look at where the sun was in the sky, or the sundials around town if they were newcomers who hadn't learned how to read the sky yet.

As every little Encanteño learned in school (which every little Encanteño was welcome to attend through age fourteen, to the initial wonder of many of their parents), the Equator ran through the southern part of Colombia. In their valley in the northwest part of the country, six degrees north of the Equator, on both the shortest days from día de las velitas through la epifanía (11 hours, 45 minutes) and the longest around fiesta de San Juan (12 hours, 30 minutes), the sun would rise at 6 in the morning and set at 6 in the evening, and it was prudent to take a siesta from 1 to 3 in the afternoon.

A few minutes one way or the other were not worth quibbling over in a place without the trains the Forty-Sixers and some of the Fifteeners had talked about.

Juancho found it grossly unfair that he was expected to sit still and pay attention on school days for ten more minutes in June than in December without coffee. Like all the other children in town, Señorita Mirabel had been one of his favorite grown-ups... until she taught Señor Madrigal to check his bag for a bottle before class.

When he complained to Señor Madrigal about this injustice one day after class, his Latin and religion teacher shrugged and replied, "she doesn't let me have more than the one at breakfast, either, no matter what time of year."

"Jorge says you're under the thumb." It was apparently true.

Señor Madrigal's face reddened, and he stuffed everyone's papers into a heavily-decorated bag. "Gotta go, running late for a very important appointment!"

Juancho looked out the window. Señorita Mirabel was approaching with the same look on her face that she had when she took the class for their turns to work in the wool carding shed, something that she enjoyed a lot more than most of them did.

He would have felt sorry for Señor Madrigal, but Jorge also said that he liked being under the thumb. Some of the other older boys snickered, but then Rodrigo said something about preferring to be under some other part of Señorita Mirabel, and got Jorge's fist in his face.

Fun at Señor Madrigal's expense was one thing, but it was never the right time to insult Señorita Mirabel.

"It's time to go to Señor Ruiz's!" she announced as she entered the schoolroom, then ruffled Juancho's hair.

"Ooooh, you're getting reading glasses like my Abuela did last year!"

Señor Madrigal put his face in his hands.

"Time marches on for us all,” Señorita Mirabel said, putting a hand on his shoulder after glancing out the door for some reason.

"But it beats the alternative,” Señor Madrigal replied, laying a hand over hers and smiling the way Juancho's papá did at his mamá when it was definitely time for Juancho to find somewhere else to be.

Feeling daring as he dashed out to get that coffee he'd been craving, he asked a question sure to score him points with Jorge and the gang:

“When’s the wedding?”

[ltwilliammowett]

Reales, pieces of eight, doubloones and ducats

Who doesn't know it, in films and books there are always stories about great pirate treasures and lots of coins are shown. But what kind of coins are they? Here is a small overview.

Silver real

Silver coin: 8 reales Fernando VI, Viceroyalty of New Spain - 1757 (x)

The real was a coin and a currency in Spain for several centuries after the mid-14th century, weighing 0,12 ounces (3,43g) of silver, and these were eight reales to a peso, hence the term " pieces of eight" for pesos.

Silver piece of eight or Spanish Dollar

Spanish piece of eight, 1780 (x)

Was an early Spanish silver dollar sized coin, with a content of 25.563 g = 0.822 oz t fine silver. As Spanish mints issued silver denominations smaller than eight reales relatively infrequently, these coins would sometimes be chopped up into smaller pieces to provide small change. In the 17th and 18th centuries, so many were in circulation that they were accepted almost anywhere in the world. The American doller sign $ was derived from the figure 8 stamped on the side of the piece of eight, the silver peso (or piaster). They were minted at Mexico City and Lima in Peru, and were common currency in all of England's colonies, being valued at four shillings and sixpence. Often they wre cut into eight pieces for ease of transaction, so that two bits made a quarter. The origin of the American phrase, not worth two bits, is from the days when the English colonies around Massachusetts used this Spanish money. Pieces of eight were produced for about 300 years, in Mexcio, Peru and Colombia, and they became the standard unit of trade between Europe and China. They wre legal tender in the USA until 1857. Before the Spanish started exploiting Potosi in Peru (in today's Bolivia), silver was almost as valuable as gold in the Old World. Such were the quantities taken from the New World, that silver dropped to about a 1/5 of the value of gold. The Spanish exported four billion pesos of silver and gold from the New World between 1492 and 1830.

Gold ducat

Gold ducat of Venice. Doge Andrea Gritti, Italy, 1523-38 (x)

This was the European gold trade coin, containing around 3.5 grams (0.11 troy ounces) of 98.6% fine gold, during the late medieval and early modern period. The name derives from ducatus, the Latin form of the title of the Doge of Venice, whre the ducat was first issued 1284. Called the ducado, it was worth less than a doubloon, about 10-11 silver reales, and was known to the British seaman as a ducat. The coin was copied throughout mainland Europe, and coins of the ducat standard were struck in several European countries up to the 20th century.

Gold doubloon (doblôn)

Spanish 4-doubloon, or doubloon of 8 escudos, stamped as minted in Mexico city mint in 1798 (x)

This was an early Spanish gold coin, worth approximately $4 (four Spanish dollars) or 32 reales, and weighing 6.766 grams (0.218 troy ounce) of 22-karat gold (or 0.917 fine; hence 6.2 g fine gold). The name originally applying to the gold excelente of Ferdinand and Isabella. It was later transferred to the two escudo coin issued by Spain and the Spanish colonies in the Americas. It was the largest Spanish gold coin, weighing slightly less than an ounce of gold, and originates from the Latin word duplus, or double. A doubloon was worth about seven weeks wages to a sailor.

[foggyfanfic]

Encanto Headcanons Nobody Asked For

Hello! I am putting off writing my last essay of the semester, so here are some headcanons!

The thing where the kids touch the candle and promise to help Encanto however they can started as Alma's way to reassure nervous villagers that the Madrigals wouldn't misuse their gifts.

When Alma first got her door and saw an old woman on it, she was super confused, but also too tired from the day's events to question it too much. When she eventually looks the same as her picture on the door she has a small mid-life crisis that she reveals to nobody.

Same for each of the triplets.

People do actually break into song in universe, it is a side effect of all the magic in Encanto. The first time it happened was about seven months in and everybody freaked out about it for months.

Alma eventually gets used to the singing thing and never thinks to mention it isn't normal to her kids or grandkids. In fact, most people in Encanto take the singing for granted, so when the mountains open up and they get a few new villagers nobody bothers to warn them that the village will regularly break into song.

I know the creators said the village is completely self sufficient, but like... where's the quarry for all the stone? Where are they making glass, that requires a specific kind of sand, do they have that sand? How are they getting new books? Nah bro, the village has three merchants who journey past the mountains twice a year.

I know the generally accepted headcanon is that Agustin was born outside of the Encanto, but I think his parents were city dwellers visiting family when the village got raided. They escaped with their hosts and planned to take their family back to the city with them, then ended up in a magic paradise instead.

In the same vein, Agustin's dad was a banker and has become the town's unofficial treasurer since that's about the only way he can contribute with his skill set.

Agustin's mother passed in childbirth, his father eventually remarried, but only after a few years of grieving. Agustin has three much younger half siblings.

Bubba comes to Encanto and does indeed get with Isabela, but I mean... some AMAB dude who surrounds himself with the trappings of masculinity and had zero problem seeing through Isabella's hyper feminine facade? Trans woman Bubba. All I'm saying. (Transphobes dni, neither of us will change the other's mind).

The art book had something about Isabela looking more indigenous than her sisters, so we know the family has indigenous roots. I wasn't able to find a lot about queer history in Colombia, but I did see that two native men were murdered by colonizers for being gay out in the open. That kinda implies that homophobia comes from the colonialist side of modern Colombia. I choose to believe that Alma has a great aunt on the native side of her family who is married to a woman. She grew up hearing that they have to keep the marriage secret to protect her aunts, so when she notices Bruno has a boyfriend, she starts planning a secret wedding without mentioning anything to Bruno.

Bruno doesn't realize his mama knows he's not straight, he thinks he's hidden it very well. When Isabela and Bubba nervously come out at dinner and Alma asks Bruno if he has any advice about being queer, Bruno inhales what he's eating and needs the Heimlich.

I agree in general with queer Madrigal headcanons, but I'm also aware that we're dealing with an isolated community a couple decades before the lgbt rights movement really kicked off in Colombia. I suspect most of the characters wouldn't use any of the labels we use today, and in fact, characters like Mirabel wouldn't stop to consider they're not straight until they've already been happily married for two decades.

That said, I think Mirabel is what we consider to be bi with a heavy preference for men. Her husband is quiet and doesn't have a single creative bone in his body, but thinks everything she sews deserves to be put in a museum. They bond because he commissions her to make something for his mother.

Luisa gets a tiny little husband who falls to pieces when she flexes. He does not understand people who say she is too masculine, or call Isabela the pretty one.

Camilo's youngest son is autistic, not that any of them know that's what the kid's deal is. Camilo just thinks his son is hilariously blunt and really into bugs. He doesn't really get how the kid can spend hours looking at an ant hill without getting bored, but whatever, he'll just buy the kid an ant farm for his birthday.

When women marry into the Madrigal family that don't have anybody to walk them down the aisle, they ask Tio Bruno to do it. It started with Camilo's wife, whose father is abusive, and became a tradition as the family grew.

When Mirabel becomes a grandmother the family starts calling her Mirabuela. Similarly, Antonio eventually becomes Tio Nio, to the point that some people forget he has a first name.

I actually have a lot of headcanons about the future of the Madrigal family but this is getting long, so I'm going to stop. I've ended up mentally writing whole ass fics for Camilo's wife and his youngest granddaughter, as well as for Mirabel's daughter, and Dolores' great grandson, so if I get into all of that this thing is going to triple in length.

[kp777]

By Tom Phillips

The Guardian

Aug. 8, 2023

The Brazilian president, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, has vowed to haul the Amazon out of centuries of violence, economic “plundering” and environmental devastation and into “a new Amazon dream”, at the start of a major regional summit on the world’s largest rainforest.

Addressing South American leaders gathered in the Brazilian city of Belém, Lula offered a bold blueprint for the future of the Amazon, a 6.7m sq km region that is home to nearly 50 million people spread across eight countries and one territory.

The Brazilian leftist promised to repair his country’s environmental and international reputation after four “disastrous” years under his predecessor, Jair Bolsonaro, during which the rainforest and Indigenous communities came under growing attack. “Thankfully … we have managed to turn this sad page in our history,” said Lula, who took power in January after thwarting Bolsonaro’s re-election plans.

Lula pledged to promote an ambitious model for the rainforest region – 60% of which lies within Brazil – in which environmental protection was accompanied by desperately needed social inclusion, economic growth and technological innovation.

“The rainforest is neither a void that needs occupying nor a treasure trove to be looted. It is a flowerbed of possibilities that must be cultivated,” Lula told the audience, which included the presidents of fellow Amazon nations Bolivia, Colombia and Peru, as well as the prime minister of Guyana and Venezuela’s vice-president.

Pledging to achieve zero deforestation by 2030, Lula said: “The Amazon can be whatever we want it to be: an Amazon with greener cities, with cleaner air, with mercury-free rivers and forests that are left standing; an Amazon with food on the table, dignified jobs and public services that are available to all; an Amazon with healthier children, well-received migrants [and] Indigenous people who are respected … This is our Amazon dream.”

Indigenous communities demand greater change as Amazon rainforest summit begins – video

The comments came at the start of a rare two-day meeting of the eight-member Amazon Cooperation Treaty Organization (Acto), which Lula called as part of efforts to reposition Brazil on the world stage as a key player in the fight against the climate crisis.

Among the issues being discussed at Acto’s first such meeting in 14 years were a possible deal to halt deforestation by 2030 and joint efforts to fight rampant illegal mining and organised crime groups that are tightening their grip on the rainforest region. Colombia’s president, Gustavo Petro, has been pushing for an end to oil and gas exploration in the Amazon, although Brazilian moves to develop an oilfield near the mouth of the Amazon River complicate those efforts.

Petro used his intervention to call for the creation of “an Amazonian Nato” under which regional military would join forces to protect the jungle, about 6% of which lies within Colombia’s borders.

“You defend life with reason – but also with weapons,” he said, also proposing a “Marshall Plan” to pump resources into Amazon protection and a specialised Amazonian court to punish crimes against the biome.

Dina Boluarte, the president of Peru, home to about 11% of the Amazon, also urged action to preserve a rainforest that “isn’t just the lungs of the world – it’s the heart of the world”.

“We must act now. There is no time to lose,” said Boluarte, who was making her first trip abroad since Peru was gripped by protests after she took power last December.

After hours of talks, a joint Acto communique, called the Belém Declaration, was published, calling for increased police and intelligence collaboration to fight illegal activities and environmental crime as well as human rights violations against Indigenous people and activists. It said a law enforcement centre would be opened in the Brazilian city of Manaus to promote cooperation among regional police forces.

The 113-point text also urged greater efforts to slash deforestation and promote sustainable development in the region. However, the document fell short of many expectations for failing to include a common goal of zero deforestation by 2030.

Marcio Astrini, the executive secretary of the Climate Observatory group, said he had mixed feelings about a declaration that was weaker than many environmentalists had hoped for.

“It’s a first step. It was important for [these leaders] to come together but there isn’t much concrete in there. It’s a list of very generic promises. It was lacking something more forceful,” Astrini said.

“We’re living in a world which is melting. We are breaking temperature records all the time. How can it be that in a 22-page declaration the presidents of eight Amazon countries can’t clearly state that deforestation needs to stop?”

Read more.

[cantsayidont]

March 2024. This seven-part Mexican miniseries (set in Yucatán, though partly filmed in Colombia) is a breezy, generally agreeable hybrid of Indiana Jones and caper movies like the OCEAN'S series. Miguel (Alfonso Dosal), the miscreant son of a now-senile famous archaeologist (ahem), teams up with his gay conman uncle Wilson (Juan Pablo Medina) and assembles a motley crew of misfit thieves and con artists to search for a legendary Maya treasure, pursued by a ruthless enemy (Adrian Ladrón) with a seemingly endless array of heavily armed goons and a grudge against Miguel for reasons Miguel can't fathom.

The story breaks no new ground, and its joviality initially feels a little forced; as with the weaker Indiana Jones movies, it sometimes assumes it can strong-arm you into enjoyment by just putting bickering characters in situations and hustling everyone through action setpieces like schoolchildren being dragged through an amusement park they're not that into. Fortunately, as the rest of the crew is fleshed out, the characters begin to grow on you and the series becomes more genuinely endearing, if still not very deep. Medina is great fun, as is Mabel Cadena as Inés, the only competent one of the cops on the crew's trail, and Ester Expósito (from ÉLITE) effortlessly steals most of the scenes she's in as Miguel's stone-faced scam artist ex-girlfriend Lilí, whom Miguel is not so secretly hoping to win back despite her resolutely mercenary priorities.

As with the Indiana Jones movies, the story's cultural sensitivity is low, the way it uses the villain's burn scars as shorthand for Evil is rather offensive, and some stabs at seriousness toward the end flirt with mawkishness, but it's no worse (albeit also no better) than most of the genre in these respects. CONTAINS LESBIANS? Inés the cop is apparently bisexual, although little comes of it in the story. VERDICT: Not always as fun as it thinks it is, but a pretty good time overall. Anyone who likes LEVERAGE or the OCEAN'S movies would probably enjoy it.

[philosophika]

Today, on August 7th, 1538, the city of Bogotá, the current capital of Colombia, was founded by the conquistador Gonzalo Jiménez de Quesada, a man known both for his brutality and his crazed obsession with finding El Dorado (see him below).

To do this, Jiménez de Quesada had to dethrone two of my very distant relatives: first, my great-great-great-great-etc.-etc. (probably half) uncle Tisquesusa, and then his younger (probably half) brother, Sagipa (pictured below, in that order). Zipa (or, the European equivalent, "King") Tisquesusa was the last legitimate ruler of Bacatá, as he was last to occupy the throne following Muisca heritage law, which mandated that the position should pass to the nephew, by way of the matrilineal line, of the previous Zipa. A mispronunciation of his title, 'Zipa of Bacatá,' by the Spanish led to 'Bogotá' being written (and pronounced) the way it is today.

Death of Tisquesusa: Upon Gonzalo Jiménez de Quesada's return from a disastrous expedition to the Neiva region, his brother (yes, this is a tale of two Spanish brothers vs. two Muisca brothers), Hernán Pérez de Quesada, informed him of Tisquesua's location at his palace in Facatativá (the Zipa had previously eluded the Spanish). Gonzalo Jiménez de Quesada attacked under the cover of night, taking Tisquesua's retinue and guards by surprise. In the chaos that ensued, Tisquesusa was able to make a run for it, fleeing into the mountains surrounding the palace, where he had the misfortune of encountering a Spanish soldier. The soldier ran Tisquesusa through with his sword without recognizing him, then robbed him of his clothes and adornments. His body was found by his surviving retinue after they noticed vultures circling the area. They buried him in an unknown location, and the Spanish declared the whole affair a loss since they were unable to question Tisquesusa about the location of his famed treasure.

Death of Sagipa: Although Sagipa, Tisquesusa's younger brother and the general of his armies, was not next in line for the throne according to Muisca law, the legitimate heir, Chiayzaque, Prince of Chía, wanted to make peace with the Spanish. This did not sit well with his people, and I can't imagine it sat very well with Sagipa, whose brother had just been murdered. Despite not having the support of the rest of the Muisca royal family or nobles, Sagipa had himself named Zipa and went to war with the Spanish, with some notable success. (Btw, Chiayzaque complained about this to Gonzalo Jiménez de Quesada, but lol amiright?) However, upon hearing that the ferocious Panche Kingdom, the old enemy and neighbour of the Muiscas, was planning an attack, Sagipa was forced to pact a truce with the Spanish to fend them off. Together, they defeated the Panche and decided to celebrate their victory by throwing a party. During the festivities, when everyone was relaxed and having a good time, Jiménez de Quesada had Sagipa arrested so that he could interrogate him regarding the location of Tisquesusa's (and, now, Sagipa's) treasure - the one they hadn't found when they killed Tisquesusa. Sagipa, who could not, or would not, provide it, or any equivalent sum, was tortured, became silent, endured a sham trial where he was represented by Gonzalo Jiménez de Quesada's brother, Hernán, and found guilty by Jiménez de Quesada, and finally died in Spanish custody from wounds he sustained during torture.

Zipa-less, Bacatá (or Bogotá as it would hence become known) was up for the taking. And that's how the city I live in was founded.

But the real irony of this tale? Gonzalo Jiménez de Quesada died trying to locate El Dorado, never knowing that he had already found it many years before in the figures of Tisquesusa and Sagipa. To ascend the throne and become the Zipa of Bacatá, Muisca Princes had to traditionally complete the El Dorado ceremony at the Sacred Lake of Guatavita (although there is some question as to whether this ceremony had been discontinued by the time the Spanish arrived, the legend of El Dorado, the golden King, was well known in the surrounding regions, which is how the Spanish got wind of it).

In this ceremony (see above), the 'Crown Prince,' covered from head to toe in gold dust, and accompanied by four other Princes, all regally adorned, would navigate out to the middle of the lake on a raft to make an offering of gold and emeralds to the deity (some sort of snake or dragon) that inhabited it. The Crown Prince would then return to the shore, King, to the jubilation of his people.

The more you know, right?

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk.