#yarabled

[streetknown-a]

@yarabled​ asked: ❛  you’ll  stand  by  my  side  no  matter  what ,  right ?  ❜

Damn, needing constant validation is a hell of a thing, ain’t it? Vera can’t relate to it-- she’s never cared about what people think or have to say about her, but then again, she doesn’t have Jose’s life, filled with important people and in a position of power. Must be nice sometimes she’s sure, but for the most part, she doesn’t think she’d want to have his role, especially not with Anton fuckin’ Castillo constantly breathing down his neck.

“Hey, the hell are you doubtin’ me for? You think I’ll betray you? For who? Or for what? More money? Not gonna do that to you. You know I’ll do anything for you, and not just because it’s my fuckin’ job. Don’t give a shit about my job.” Vera purses her lips, hands cupping Jose’s face affectionately and with as much reassurance as her rough hands are able to give. She gets on her tip-toes to place a kiss on his lips. By the sound of it and the look on his face, she assumes his day has been rough. “Don’t like seein’ you down. Want me to round up some outcasts for you to have fun with, cariño?”

[resistancesought]

" do you believe what they're saying about me? " MARÍA

in an hour of need prompts / accepting !

" lighten up, josé. you're always so serious. " the minister of culture hums, seated on the edge of her desk as the doctor looking over josé gives her a curt nod. with a smile, and nothing more than a wave of her hand, she dismisses him -- happy to see the work he's done on the young castillo's shoulder. he'd run into a pack of guerrillas on his way into valle de oro -- and he could never resist playing the hero of yara. honestly, she should have gotten a picture or two. imagine the positive press behind one of yara's rising stars -- a CASTILLO nonetheless -- taking out guerrillas like any other soldado? in fact, before she speaks again, she takes out her phone. " smile, " she commands, before snapping a picture of josé and his injured shoulder. " you look like a hero. good for the socials. " maría stands, heels clicking on the wood floor as she makes her way to the bar cart in the corner of her office, pouring a glass of impeccably branded marquessa's rum for herself, and then one for josé. she passes it to him on her way back to her desk. " you worry too much about the opinions of fake yarans, josé. ¿no se supone que eres un león? " maría laughs, taking a long sip of her drink, " you don't care what i believe. you're just looking for validación. " she finishes her drink, setting it aside, as she rests her hands behind her on the desk, leaning into them. " see, josé, i think the problem with you is that you're exactly what the people think you are. you are young, foolish, reckless. . . and a coward. " maría smiles at him, as if she's offering him kind advice rather than ripping him to shreds. " but, and here's the thing -- yara does not need to know that. when the people of yara look at you, they need to see strength, power -- a LEADER. " her eyes look him up and down, a little laugh bubbling from her lips. " they need to see a CASTILLO. " standing up to get another drink, maría pats josé on the shoulder -- right over the recently treated gunshot wound, placing pressure directly on it. " don't worry. i can help with that. i can make sure yara sees you exactly the way you want them to. . . it's just up to you to work on that mess you call a personality. " she squeezes his injured shoulder again, being sure to dig her red lacquered nails into the bandages -- one last added injury to insult -- before pouring herself another a drink. " think of the public, mijo. "

@yarabled

[screenviolense-a]

@yarabled​​ sent: [ stare ]  carmen heehee

[ stare ]  your muse staring mine down .

            perhaps it was a side effect of being a spy as long as she had, but she could tell when there were eyes on her. she stood on the terrace, beginning to light another cigarette of many that day when she eventually chose to acknowledge him standing just out of most’s view. ‘ what brings you here, jose? i’m on my break. ‘

[screenviolense]

@yarabled sent: well, it's not a good story unless the hero dies. camila

she let out a snort at that, taking a long drag from her cigarette. he would say something like that, if only to give some meaning to when she finally got sick of him and gutted him like the pig so it wasn't as pathetic as it really was.

' right, and who exactly is the "hero" in this, hm? ' she leaned back in her chair, one eyebrow raised. ' the one who couldn't fight his way out of a cardboard box without all his fancy soldiers and guns? '

[screenviolense]

@yarabled sent: [ HAIR ]:          sender slowly reaches out to catch a loose strand of the receiver’s hair and tuck it gently and securely back behind their ear, letting their touch linger afterwards. camila

it was easier to ignore him than to indulge in whatever smug or pouty look he had for her, now that he was effectively stuck with them as their prisoner and forced to live without the luxuries he'd used to have as general. but even as she tried to ignore him and enjoy her cigarette and beer in peace ( even unwind, if she could. ) there he was with his finger tucking around a loose strand of hair that had slipped out of her ponytail.

her eyebrow was raised first as a warning before she eventually turned and pulled away from his hand. ' what are you doing? '

[screenviolense]

@yarabled sent: [ TEND ]:    sender and receiver tend to one another’s wounds in the aftermath of a fight. camila

she stiffened even before the cloth made contact with her cheek and the blossoming bruise spreading across the bridge of her nose and under her eye-- the result of her attempting to yank free against one of his guards before they deposited into his office-- her upper lip curling in disgust. the absolute audacity of him to not even try and restrain her here, thinking that she wouldn't dare hurt him, even when she was unarmed and in the belly of the beast.

' i don't need you to play nurse with me. ' camila spat, jutting her chin out just so her face was a few centimeters further away from his hand. ' just throw me in a dungeon or kill me. '

[resistancesought]

@yarabled said : [ text ] where are you? clara

[ text : DO NOT ANSWER THIS NUMBER UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE ] : really?? you thought THIS would work?? [ text : DO NOT ANSWER THIS NUMBER UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE ] : come find me at 6969 fuck off road [ text : DO NOT ANSWER THIS NUMBER UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE ] : you'll never find me asshole [ text : DO NOT ANSWER THIS NUMBER UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE ] : and tell your tío he's a pussy

text meme / hella accepting !!

[streetknown-a]

@yarabled​ asked: ❛  you  are …  unbelievable .  ❜ hi <3

Is Vera dedicated to the cause of El Presidente Castillo? Nah, fuck no. He’s a dictator through and through and she knows that, and hey, she gets it-- the guerilla groups are fighting for their freedom, for the freedom of Yara. They’re not bad or wrong for doing what they’re doing, but they’re also not the ones paying V. Not the ones giving her these sick weapons and giving her all the drugs and tobacco a girl in her line of work could ever want. She’s had so many jobs over the years as a merc-- even worked for a while in an island similar to this one, Rook Island, but she thinks this is the highest stake job she’s ever had. A lot of the other American mercs brought onto Yara seem to share the same sentiment. 

Her knife and gloved hands are drenched in red as she yanks the blade out of a resistance member’s neck. Originally, he was to be taken to Jose for torture she presumes, but after the big bastard decided to break through the restraints on his wrists and attack V, she had no choice but to fight back. She’s straddling the dead idiot’s hips when someone speaks to her, and when she looks up, she’s shocked to see it’s Jose Castillo himself. It’s her first time meeting him in person... he’s handsome and proud looking, but yeah, just as short as the rumors say. Not that she has any room to speak. “Me? Not at all, sir. Just doin’ my job by puttin’ down the rabid dogs. Gonna have to find you someone else though. Didn’t wanna kill him but he didn’t give me a choice here,” she sighs and stands up, wiping off the man’s blood on her black cargo pants. “’s an honor to meet you in person... not a privilege lots of American mercs get, I’m sure.”