#Eva's abuela

[doodle-do-wop]

GG PROMPTOBER

Hi, yes im aware october is over but I’m still going to write for the promptober prompts until I catch em all(They probably wont be in order tho so apologies

Anyway, here’s Taking The Kids Trick Or Treating but it’s less taking the kids and more so just the kids

takes place pre-Gallagher and stars tiny Eva and Kim Lee

Eva sighed and rested her head on her palm as she watched dutifully over the sidewalk, balancing the bowl of candy on her knee and stared at the families that passed by her in joyous skips and trots. Mothers and fathers, running after their kids or holding their hands as they marched from house to house. Moms and dads, alive and well, standing by their child’s side with smiles that could last an eternity. 

“Mija!” A shrill voice called and Eva turned so she could look at the window beside her, staring back at her Abuela through the window screen. 

“Aquí estoy.” Eva replied, where else would she be? Besides, it’s not like Eva could sneak away without her Abuela noticing, grandmothers saw everything but Eva's Abuela wasn’t like the other needle knitters at the community center. 

“¿Necesitas más dulces?” Abuela asked, shaking the spare bag of candy they had shopped for earlier and Eva shook her head. There wasn’t any need to put more candy in the bowl, it was still(to Eva’s dismay) three quarters full. 

“Estoy bien Nina.” Eva called back and waited until the curtain fell back down to go back to her brooding and grumbling. She allowed herself the pleasure of slouching as she watched over the street again. 

Eva gently slammed her head back against the wall behind her and looked up at the mocking sky that had only just turned dark at her displeasure. 

Normally Eva loved the spooky holiday, she longed for the years past where her abuela would take her up and down the very same neighborhood and trick-or-treat for candy she’d have to wait with agonizing patience to eat after a thorough inspection(no one knows how to grill information out of some Whoppers like her abuela). But Eva was about to be a sixth grader, she was going to go into middle school which meant unfortunate maturity of the body and soul. Eva was old enough to fully understand the meaning behind the calaveras that sat on their ofrenda. She was old enough to fully take in the weight of the names written across the foreheads of each skull, to know why her abuela shed tears at the sight of old photos. 

Eva lifted the pirate hat off her head and scratched where the itchy material touched her. It was bad enough that she had to sit out here like a garden gnome, she would have at least been less grumpy if she wasn’t made to wear a ‘costume’. A striped shirt and a pirate hat weren’t Eva’s definition of a costume.  

She was thankful no one in her future middle school class would see her like this, dressed up like an elementary schooler, handing out candies like some old lady(no offense Abuela). 

The thudding of quick steps caught Eva’s attention and she turned her head to stare at the most ridiculous looking girl she had ever seen in her life. She blinked and watched the bounce of chains and listened to the jingle of metal on metal on metal as a girl dressed in all black ran over with two older kids in tow. 

The girl skidded to a stop right in front of Eva’s three small steps and grinned at her like a maniac, her eyes were surrounded by a black powder that looked like she stared through a pranked eyeglass. Her hair was short and inky black, gelled so it was almost completely standing on end. 

“Hi!” Her voice was high and squeaky, like the 7th graders Eva had passed by when she and her Abuela had gone to the park by Eva’s future school. 

“Uh, hi?” Eva waved because her Abuela drilled manners into her skull like the metal spikes that jutted out of the small girl’s black jean jacket. 

“I’m Kim Lee,” the girl, Kim Lee, said with the utmost importance. You’d think she was introducing a magician and not herself. “I’m new.” She swayed in her spot, looking a little shy but then perked right back up like a bouncing ball. 

“I’m Eva and I live here?” Eva hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question but usually little kids as small as Kim Lee were accompanied by grown ups, people with mustaches and jobs and taxes to pay, not the two lanky 8th graders that stood behind her like the silent pillars they were. 

“Cool!” Kim Lee piped and then leaned against the metal handrail of the steps. “What are you dressed up as?” 

Eva never felt more embarrassed to be seen outside her own home as she did then, if it was just Kim Lee she wouldn’t have felt so silly in her striped shirt and hat but there were 8th graders present. 8th graders who turned into high schoolers who turned into the coming of age hotties of Hollywood movies everywhere. 

“A pirate,” Eva whispered as she begged the earth to swallow her whole(but to spit out the hat). 

“I’m a rockstar!” Kim Lee said, ignoring Eva's pathetic response and doing a little spin for Eva, showing off the wild writing on the back of her jacket that read ‘Lee’. 

“I thought Snow White was popular with fourth graders.” Eva blinked and recalled how she had seen over three singing princesses in the classrooms she had passed earlier that day. 

Kim Lee froze in her spot and then seemed to deflate, gone was her electric energy that screamed ‘sugar rush’ and now there hung an awkward low in the air. The two 8th graders behind Kim Lee turned to each other and started to giggle, shaking as they burst out in laughter as Kim Lee hung her tiny head. She wheeled around on the two older kids and swatted at them with her hands like flies. 

“Shut up!” She squealed but that only made them laugh harder, one of the kids, a boy, reached down and patted Kim Lee’s spiky hair. 

“But you’re such a cute fourth grader!” He laughed and Kim Lee let out a high pitch groan of frustration. She turned on her heel and glared at Eva, marching up the three small steps like a warrior on a mission. 

“I’m going to be a sixth grader next year you know!” Kim Lee bellowed, trying to keep her voice as low as the boy behind her but it cracked and squeaked causing the kids to laugh some more. 

“You- what?” Eva sputtered and looked at the tiny girl in front of her. Most fifth graders were at least a head taller than Kim Lee was, hell, if Eva stood right now she’d be half a head taller and Eva was the shortest girl in her class room. 

“I’m going to be a sixth grader,” Kim Lee repeated. “As in middle school.”

She made the words sound like she was talking to a third grader and Eva was not about to let this tiny punk talk to her like she didn’t know long division. Eva stood and crossed her arms. 

“I know what middle school is. I’m going next year.” Eva said proudly and Kim Lee scoffed, turning her nose to the side like she smelled a fart. 

“Oh yeah? What school?” Kim Lee sounded like she would hunt down every school district and hallway to find Eva and prove her point of being a future sixth grader and Eva(with her half a head vertical advantage) scoffed right back at her. 

“Wright Middle.” Eva stood up straighter and watched from her tall perch as the wheels turned in Kim Lee’s eyes. The girl seemed to pause and ponder this, as if searching through a metal map of the county to find Eva’s school. She blinked and then looked back up at Eva, a strange expression on her face. 

“I’m going to Wright Middle.” She said softer now, all the huff and puff gone from her little body. 

“You are?” Eva blinked and Kim Lee nodded slowly. She tried not to let Kim Lee have the last word so she shrugged like it was no big deal. “Everyone in this neighborhood is going there.”

“We’re going to be classmates.” Kim Lee whispered and the boy behind her spoke up again. 

“No duh genius, hurry up I wanna go home already.” He whined and Kim Lee turned and said something to him so quickie Eva took a moment to understand she had just called him a ‘dumb poophead’ before the two broke into argument. One talking faster than the other and Eva grabbed a snickers bar out of the bowl and watched. 

She assumed the two were brother and sister and whoever the other kid was could be either a friend or another sibling. Either or, Eva was glad to be an only child. She couldn’t imagine the horrors of sharing her room with someone, having someone in her business constantly as all TV siblings do. She didn’t have to worry about a snotty nosed younger brother or sister bothering her to play, no older brother to yell at for being gross and obnoxious, no big sister to kick out of her room when all she talked about were boys. Eva considered herself lucky as she watched Kim go red under her black makeup. 

Eva grabbed a kitkat and took aim. 

“Hey Kim Lee.” Eva called and Kim Lee turned to look at her as Eva gently tossed the candy at her. Kim Lee snatched it out of the air halfway through it’s arch and Eva blinked in amazement. Wondering if years of siblings had gotten her reflexes so sharp. 

“See you in class.” Eva smiled and sat back down in her chair, Kim Lee paused and looked at the candy in her hand and then gave Eva a toothy grin. 

“See you in class.” She called as she walked down the steps, metal on meta on metal jingling as she walked towards the two kids and down the sidewalk. Eva smiled as she figured that if middle school was going to be the hormone filled hell that TV shows always made it out to be then at least she’d have Kim Lee around as a friend. 

Eva blinked as something small and hard hit her shoulder and she turned to stare at her Abuela through the now fully opened window. 

“No te robas los dulces.” She scolded but then smiled as she followed where Kim Lee went, an odd knowing look in her eyes Eva sometimes caught her doing toward her.

“Your new friend, yes?” She asked and Eva shrugged. 

“I guess.”

Her abuela nodded approvingly and smiled as she started to close the window, mumbling Kim Lee’s name under her breath. Eva rubbed the back of her neck and sat back down, looking at the candy bowl and blinking in confusion. She could have sworn there were more Snickers in the bowl just moments ago. 

[yurnu]

algo que realmente me molesto de la interpretación de que adam sea un machista es que literalmente no tiene sentido, porque el padre de la humanidad lo sería si eso no existia y el machismo no es algo con lo que naces si no que aprendes, si dicen que fue haci después de lilith tampoco tiene sentido, odiar a tu ex que te abandono no te hace machista, si nos ponemos a pensar fue lucifer quien creo ese sistema, el engaño a eva, a eva se le culpa por el estado de la humanidad pero fue culpa de lucifer, también adam y eva fueron castigados, adam con trabajo hasta el cansancio y eva con partos con dolor, la Visita del mes y ser obediente, esto fue lo que muchos usan para escusar el machismo y los horribles roles de genero.

Yo creo que esa mierda del machismo que supuestamente tiene Adam es una mierda inventada por el fandom. Osea, si Adam fuera supuestamente machista no tendría un ejército de mujeres exorcistas ya que según esa lógica las mujeres son "débiles" y su lugar es la cocina. Pero no, Adam tiene un gran ejército de mujeres que lo respetan, y el respeto se tiene que ganar, lo cual hace entender que Adam se ganó ese respeto (y el que diga que lo obeden por miedo lo voy a cagar apuñalando con el machete oxidado de mi abuela).

Acusan a Adam de machista, pero el wey jamás mostró esa actitud en la serie. Si fuera machista jamás seguiría las órdenes de Lute o de Sera, es más, se sentiría ofendido si una mujer le diera órdenes.

"nooo, Pero es que le puso un nombre insultante a Vaggie, y y y dice perras y y y..."

Si si si, ya, aquí tienes un caramelo. TODOS les ponemos sobrenombre absurdos a nuestros amigos o los llamamos a través de "insultos" pero eso no lo tomamos a pecho y eso tampoco es algo como para catalogarlo como una actitud machista o misógina.

Yo creo que Adam es tu amigo que habla de forma bastante directa, a algunos no le gustará y a otros si. Cómo Deadpool, todos aman a Deadpool.

El termino machista se a targiversado tanto que cualquier mierda es machista ahora.

¡ADEMAS NI SIQUIERA EN LA SERIE SE MUESTRA QUE ADAM SEA MACHISTA! y si es una mierda sacada del culo de Viv en uno de sus stream no lo tomo como válida, si no aparece en la serie no es canon. Quiero decir, por algo tienes esa mierda.

[amiguiz]

(Para que la leas ahí donde te tope el eclipse del 30 de marzo de 2052).

Guille, mi Guille:

El 8 de abril de 2024, tú, tus hermanos, tus papás, tu abuela y nosotros, tus tíos, vimos el eclipse lunar tumbados en el pasto del estadio de los osos de Baylor.

Lo esperamos durante dos horas bajo el ardiente y escorchante (scorching) sol de Texas. Nos habíamos alistado desde las cinco de la mañana para evitar el tráfico de la salida de Houston, y sólo paramos en una gasolinería a las afueras de Waco porque Rodrigo despertó de su siesta con tremendas ganas de ir al baño.

Siempre que Rodrigo va al baño, tú vas también. Duermen, comen, se ensucian y se lavan a la misma hora, y como los visten iguales mucha gente cree que son parecidos. No lo son. De hecho, no podrían ser más distintos. Rodrigo es activo y tú eres calmado. Rodrigo es vivillo y tú todavía eres inocente. Rodrigo inventa, oculta y ficciona, en cambio tú eliges decir siempre la verdad. Rodrigo se parece a tu mamá, rasgos afilados y barbilla triangular, cara de gente que sale en revistas. Tú, mi Guille, eres más del tipo redondeado, chato como doña Eva, como el impresentable Juan, cabeza de manzana con dientecillos de ballena y ojos chinos como yo.

Eres tan bello, mi Guille, tan lindo, que a veces me quedo mirándote y me siento como se debió de haber sentido el primer animal frente al milagro del fuego, frente al calor y el cocimiento, en el instante prístino que antecedió a todos nuestros errores y a los milenios.

En el camino a Waco, tú, tu abuela y Codelo fueron los únicos que se comieron los burritos que yo había preparado. Eso me gusta de ti, que aceptas el alimento que te ofrezco. Y ya que estamos en esas, también quiero decirte que admiro la manera en la que te sientas a la mesa, tranquilo, con los pies colgando si la silla es demasiado alta, y cómo contemplas el bocado antes de morderlo, como pidiéndole permiso, y el contento que invade tu cara cuando masticas, dibujándote un hoyuelo feliz. ¿Te han contado que cuando eras chiquito cerrabas los ojos para disfrutar más tu comida? ¿Te han contado que aprendiste a columpiarte solo en el portabebé, a divertirte sin necesitar de otros, a decidir el ritmo y la duración de tus juegos?

Mientras esperábamos la totalidad del eclipse, tú ibas monitoreando el recorrido de la luna en una cachucha que te compró tu papá. Esto podemos decir sobre tu papá: que cuando tiene, lo da todo, y cuando no tiene, da un poco menos, pero siempre da. Lo aprendió de tu abuela, y de la nuestra, y lo aprendió también de ti mucho antes de que nacieras, así funcionan las resonancias y los planos superpuestos.

(Para el 2052, ¿estará probada la teoría de cuerdas? ¿Serán posibles los viajes entre portales? Mejor, dime, llanamente: ¿ya se sabe si existen los aliens?)

Quiero que sepas que ver el eclipse contigo es de lo más bonito que me ha tocado vivir durante el tiempo que llevo en la tierra. No sé si dentro de 28 años recordarás la cobija sobre el pasto, la limonada, el momento preciso en que la luna se acomodó ("tuc") sobre el sol y el mundo entero cambió de tonalidad, la voz adolescente de Leonardo avisándote que "ahorita ya te puedes quitar los lentes, Ché, para ver el cielo, Ché, mira, mira, mira cómo se ve". No importa si no lo recuerdas. Es más: olvídalo si quieres. Yo lo recordaré.

En 2052, habrás cumplido 33 años. Rodrigo, 36. Leonardo, 42. Tu papá, 75. Tu mamá, 71. Yo, 67. Codelo, 73. Veremos el eclipse juntos y le echaremos una porra al recuerdo de tu abuela, escucharemos su carcajada en el instante en que el sol y la luna hagan "tuc". Veremos el eclipse, en eso quedamos; esta carta es únicamente un respaldo, un ejercicio de universos contrastantes.

(Para el 2052, ¿seguiré viviendo en Texas? ¿Seguirán siendo legales las armas e ilegales los abortos? ¿Los hispanos todavía seremos ciudadanos de segunda?)

En 2024, tienes cinco años y lo que más te gusta en el mundo es ponerte gorra. También te gustan los peluches, los plátanos y que te carguen de cabeza. Tienes el don de la escucha y eres atento en por lo menos dos acepciones: la que permite la curiosidad y la otra, la que aplauden las señoras. No has empezado la primaria y todavía no logras pronunciar la r suave. A tu hermano lo llamas Roligo. La maestra dice que es normal entre los toddlers como tú, los llamados "bebés pandemia". Asegura que eres un niño normal, inteligente y sensible. Practicas Duolingo todos los días. Te gusta hablar en dos idiomas, te gusta hablar aunque no se te entienda.

Yo te entiendo. Yo me he educado en la traducción-interpretación-adivinación en vivo. La intuición es la táctica de las mujeres y las migrantes. (Para 2052, ¿me sigo dedicando a la traducción y a escribir libros? ¿Seguimos leyendo libros? ¿Todavía existe Arte Público?)

A tus abuelos les preocupa tu habla, temen que te quedes solito, que el futuro se convierta en un lugar hostil para ti. Tu abuela me lo dice con los ojos cargados de esa angustia que combate a base de resoluciones. Te regalaría su propia lengua, si pudiera, pero no puede, y eso la llena de tristeza. No quiere heredarte un mundo cruel, sobre todo si ella no estará aquí para protegerte.

La entiendo. Y me preocupa que se preocupe. Y me preocupa que me preocupe su preocupación. Etcétera.

Pero, luego, cuando veo tus pies colgados de la silla, suspendidos como el péndulo que te enseñé en el museo, se me despejan las nubes de la tragedia. Se presenta ante mí el misterio, resuelto, de la rotación de la tierra, el vaivén de los astros conocidos y por conocer. Te miro con estos ojos que se parecen a los tuyos, y los planos temporales y universales se superponen. Tú, mi Guille, eres el milagro de los eclipses, eres el fuego y la contemplación del fuego. Eres el instante preciso en que el cielo hace "tuc", un universo en sí mismo, contenido y en expansión, uno que aprendió a columpiarse solo, a su ritmo, y a pautar su propio infinito.

[jerzwriter]

Headcanon that your Ethan can speak Spanish

OK so as I gear up to write more for Ethan x Eva in T/C land, this sparks joy.

In E/K land, I believe he has conversational fluency in Spanish, Portuguese and Haitian… 3 of the top 5 languages spoken in Boston. It helps his patients, so you know he’d do it.

He also tried to learn Mandarin, but couldn’t master it. So he goes out of his way to be extra nice to nurses who speak it so he can ask for their help when needed.

All of this is true in the Ethan x Eva universe, too. She is also multi-lingual and impressed, especially when he is introduced to her abuelos and speaks in Spanish.

But in this world I imagine he secretly learns Greek, and surprises Eva with this when they visit her family at Christmas. I imagine her Cuban fam will be teasing the Greek fam… always arguing whose culture is superior… abuela will tell yia-yia Spanish is superior, Ethan even speaks it. Papou will jump in with “That’s because it is easy to learn! Unlike Greek, you need to be brilliant to master that.” And Ethan will reply in perfect Greek that he is so glad he fits that mold.

Eva will be like WTF, how are you speaking Greek… and he says he has been learning as a Christmas gift for her. This way he can be more in tune w her family and take some of the crazy she deals with off her plate. She will be so touched (and turned on… he is getting it good that Christmas! lol).

Thanks for this, amiga!

Tagging @annfg8 and @annoyingmillenialnewbie who are more than patiently waiting for Eva.

[evita-shelby]

Of Gods and Witches

Chapter 9

Cw:mentions of murder, extramarital affairs,death, ptsd symptoms

Taglist: @v3d3rl1cht @thegreatdragonfruta

Gif by @syrma-sensei​

“Imperious Rex.” He repeats perfectly.

Emperor King.

The only qualm Eva thinks her family will have about him.

Not him being a mutant and living under the sea, not him stealing away the last witch born in their family in the past fifty years.

No, they have an issue with him being a king.

“You have to understand that we have a bad history with monarchies, yaakunaj.” She had said as they lay together in his hammock.

Love. She had taken to calling him that when he bristled at her saying mi amor.

My love.

She loves him and he feels like a hypocrite because he has caught feelings for a surface-dwelling woman with the blood of their oppressors coursing through her veins.

But she was a witch, as powerful as Itza.

She is hunted because her untrained power makes her too dangerous to live. Eva had told him all that and more during those nights together.

Six months ago, she had been so drunk in everything she could get her hands on that she had told everyone there how they would die. Told Venustiano Carranza how he did everything to avoid Francisco Madero’s fate only to die with the same number of bullets he did.

Didn’t help she was in league with his enemies, men who knew the old order Carranza still had faith in had to die for the new one to be born. But her allies deserted her, fearing her abilities even if she had never given them cause to doubt her allegiance to them.

“Tell me why your family hate kings and emperors so much, wàay.” He requests, thumb caressing her lower lip and making him wish she had been Talokanil instead. “Tell me why an imperious rex would not be well received in your family.”

If she had been so, he could have been with her without his people’s judgement.

“Long story short, we have a time-honored tradition of overthrowing tyrants in Mexico and causing minor disturbances for the sake of insulting the King of England for what his country is doing to Ireland and all the other lands they have stolen.” She said with pride. Eva was proud of her history, proud that her family had aided in their countrymen’s liberation time and time again. “But that is only one of the reasons.”

“And what is that other reason, if you don’t mind telling me.” He asked as she looked away with a grimace.

“Because Lidia Chapul, matriarch of the Arambula family in 1824, lured her former lover into setting foot in Mexico so the government could execute him.” She answered and he tried not to laugh.

A century ago, her ancestress killed her lover, the first Emperor of Mexico, and now a century later a witch of her line is in bed with the god king of Talokan.

“That’s not all. My abuela met my grandfather when she was a spy in Maximilian Hapsburg’s court, and both lured the emperor into a trap so he could be executed by Benito Juarez in 1867. My father, a man of the Roma people, threw a shoe at the King of England in 1880 and my Irish grandfather’s last wish was to fund the war for independence in Ireland three years ago.” She paused and bit her lower lip as she adds, “I cannot promise you I will be on your side should Talokan want to democratically elect its next leader.”

“They would come for you too, like that French queen who lost her pretty head. Marie Antoinette.” Ch’ah laughs tracing a line across her throat.

The witch murmured in response, “Don’t say things like that, I might get the wrong idea and think you mean it.”

But what if I do mean it? He asked himself.

----

Eva has nightmares, horrid things that come true half the time and other times it is just an exaggerated memory.

She cannot sleep in tents, cannot sleep on floors and in this case, if she feels the presence of someone sleeping with her when she is in a strange place, the witch will try to kill that someone before they kill her.

Later that day, she wakes up trying to strangle him in her sleepwalking state.

He is much stronger and larger than her and yet she’s somehow gotten them to the floor where she had effectively pinned him and came to with her hands wrapped around his neck.

“You’re stronger than you look.” He rubbed his neck as if nothing had happened and acted as if she didn’t almost commit regicide in a shellshock induced night terror.

Still, the young witch keeps herself on the shallow ends of the cavern pool, keeps away with him and looks at him with a lot of remorse.

“I am really sorry for trying to kill you, Ch’ah. I thought you were part of my nightmare.” She apologized again, after he had calmed her down and brought her outside of his cabin with the excuse that he needed water. He weakens without water, drinking is not enough, he must swim to keep himself alive. Ch’ah was amphibious, sort of like a frog, something he had laughed at as they talked last night.

Eva had told him everything about her on the beach at her home, now it was his turn to regal her with his life’s story as they acted as if he was just a man getting to know his sweetheart.

Ch’ah liked chocolate, his father was a Purepecha traveler. He has been preparing his people to defend themselves since his mother died and fears the day someone invents a detector for the metal under Talokan. He has swum and flown as far as Asia and Africa to test his abilities, he has discovered he is not a god but a mutant and no matter how much he tries, he cannot find a kingdom called Wakanda.

He once had a conversion and a few drinks with her late uncle and was sorry to learn he had died soon after. He met Benito Juarez twice and found him a good man, he painted every mural she has seen here, he likes the color green, but is partial to red. And the pearl necklace around her neck had been made by his own hand because his longevity has given him time to learn almost everything.

Namor hates the surface world, but Ch’ah has an insatiable curiosity he inherited from his mother. He likes romance, he has loved before and has had his heart broken plenty of times, but he believes in destiny and he thinks there has to be a reason as to why Chaac led him to her, a person he is supposed to hate on principle, but cannot bring himself to do so.

“No need to apologize, you believed you were in danger and did not do it out of malice.” He said coming to join her and she fought every fiber of her being that wanted nothing more than to snuggle up to him because he was so deliciously warm.

Ch’ah is always warm, even the coldness of the water cannot seep away a warmth that is all too human. Sleeping with him in his hammock had been better than her bed, a closeness where neither knew where either began or ended and an intimacy that for a moment she wondered if soulmates were real.

“Still, you have been nothing but good to me since we met, and I could have seriously hurt you.” The witch said honestly, avoiding his eyes because the word ‘love’ slipped so effortlessly off her tongue earlier tonight.

Mi amor, she had said so naturally, as if they had been together for longer than maybe two weeks. In yaakunaj, she had rectified and then made it all worse by saying in yaakunech.

I love you.

Not the words for te quiero, in yaabilmech. Te quiero is similar to te amo, but not as serious.

Both meant I love you, but one had a stronger meaning in Spanish, and in Yucatecan as well.

“Please, Talokanil children can hit harder than you, Evita.” He jokes and nudges her shoulder playfully. “My little cousin, Namora, could give you a run for your money.”

Ch’ah loves his people, has a soft spot for children.

They have that in common, Eva is good with children, a favorite of all her younger cousins and cousin’s children.

And as she sits there with him, listening attentively to his stories about the little girl named after him, she is given a vision so sweet and beautiful that she can’t help but take his hand wishing he could see it too.

She and Ch’ah, older and yet still as young as they are now. He laughing with a little girl in his arms, a little girl with pointed ears, wings on her ankles and her freckles.

Itotia, dancer, he calls the child who turns to Eva with a smile that reminds her so much of her dead siblings and calls her na’ , Mother.

When she comes back into her body, Ch’ah is as winded as she is.

“Do you still think you are dying?” he asks still processing what just occurred. Never had Eva been able to show someone else her visions, it was as new to her as it was to him.

“I don’t know.”

[avantimorocha22]

la caja de recuerdos de cosas que no sucedieron

va a sonar raro lo que voy a decir

pero sigo imaginando algunas cosas con vos al lado

miro para adelante y me duele

porque cada vez que soñaba me soñaba al lado tuyo

cada vez que miro para adelante no puedo imaginar otra persona que no seas vos acá

cada vez que veo fotos de casamiento pienso en la cantidad de veces que nos imaginé festejando nuestro amor

cada vez que tengo que imaginarme con un vestido no me imagino a otra persona viéndome entrar

cada vez que miro adelante y pienso sí, quiero ser mamá, se me vienen tus fotos de chico y mi mente se imagina cómo serían tus hijitos con tus ojos y los rulitos

pienso que el nombre que le voy a poner a mi primera hija me va a hacer acordar siempre a vos porque tu abuela se llama Eva

también me duele porque quería regalarle un bisnieto a la María

me cuesta pensar que algún día quizás deje de vivir sola

me cuesta pensar que vos no vas a ser el que me abra la puerta

ni que me haga el desayuno

ni que me traiga chocolates para después de comer

o me de besos antes de irme a dormir

o me agarre de la cintura mientras cocino

por qué no te quedaste

por qué no estás

por qué si miro para adelante está tu sombra ahí

por qué no te vas del todo

me gustaría enterrar la caja de recuerdos de cosas que no sucedieron en un lugar que nunca más vuelva a encontrar

me gustaría que no me dolieran tanto

los besos que no nos dimos

los abrazos que me negaste

las veces que no nos escuchamos

los te extraño que nos seguimos guardando

las cosas que no hicimos

que no dijimos

que no vimos

que no sentimos

[jovenydistraida]

Cuando me preguntan qué es el amor…

Cuando me preguntan “¿qué es el amor?” me acuerdo de mi abuelita comprándome libros para colorear, aunque yo en ese entonces tenía 19 años, porque ella notó que me gustaba mucho pintar. Recuerdo a mi mamá abrazándome en mis peores crisis, sentada en el piso, diciéndome que me ama.

También llegan a mi cabeza recuerdos de cuando en plena pandemia (y con permiso de circulación en mano) mis amigas vinieron de sorpresa a verme en mi cumpleaños, se viene a la mente cómo mi perrita me recibe cada que salgo de mi casa y vuelvo a entrar por esa puerta.

Mi memoria lanza la imagen del año 2018, cuando me gradúe del colegio y mi familia hizo una pequeña fiesta con sombreritos de graduación y pergaminos hechos de goma eva, sirviéndonos mi comida favorita. Cuando mi abuela y mi mamá me ven decaída, se sientan conmigo y juntas hacemos “nada”.

Como me levanto temprano, ordeno mi pieza, me ducho y me arreglo simplemente para sentirme bien conmigo misma, cuando me acaricio el alma haciéndome algún postre y viendo mi película favorita.

Cuando me preguntan “¿qué es el amor?” respondo que el amor está en cada acción que hacen las personas que te rodean y uno mismo, para demostrarte ese sentimiento. Amor está en ese abrazo de esa amiga al saludar, en los besos y bendiciones de la abuela cuando salgo de mi casa, los “cómo estás?” de mi mamá y los langüetazos de mi perrita por las mañanas y tarde.

Ahora quizás mi corazón esté dañado y muy frágil, pero cada vez que siente esas acciones, se reconstruye un poquito más. Pronto estaré bien.

[oniromancer]

Salmorejo.

Sugerencia de escritura del día¿Qué comida te transporta inmediatamente a tu infancia?Ver todas las respuestas Eva pelaba pensativa los enormes y rojos tomates con los que estaba preparando la cena, mientras manipulaba ceremoniosa los ingredientes, pensaba en las mañanas de verano en su pueblo natal, jugando en la cocina mientras su abuela preparaba la comida. El aroma a azahar desde la ventana,…

[adictaenserie]

The Gift

Basada en la novela Dünyanın Uyanışı (El Despertar del Mundo) de Şengül Boybaş.

DIMENSIÓN 1 – Atiye es una artista plástica y contacta a Erhan, un arqueólogo que descubrió en Göbekli Tepe, el templo más antiguo del mundo, un símbolo que ella pinta desde niña. Atiye huye de su boda con Ozan para irse de viaje con Erhan y la anciana (su abuela). La pastora (su tía) la guía a las cavernas donde queda atrapada y enfrenta su pasado. Atiye descubre que su hermana adoptada Cansu es en realidad la hermana de Erhan. Acusan a Atiye del asesinato de Cansu, pero consigue escapar. Al cruzar la puerta llega a una dimensión donde Cansu / Elif está viva pero no la conoce.

Para viajar a otra dimensión, atraviesan una puerta cuando se alinean las estrellas.

Serdar (el padre de Ozan) trabaja para una organización que se comunica a través de las pantallas en un lenguaje ancestral. Hannah (la amante de Erhan) es un peón de Serdar.

DIMENSIÓN 2 – Erhan y Elif fueron adoptados por Serdar y Melek (que no se suicidó). Elif y Ozan son pareja, pero mantienen la relación oculta y Erhan se casa con Hannah.

Hay una conflicto nuevo, no nacen bebés y las mujeres embarazadas se mueren. En esta dimensión, que es un espejo de la primera, es Erhan el que debe recordar quién es.

DIMENSIÓN 3 – Atiye y Erhan están buscando a su hija Aden que fue secuestrada hace 8 años por Ozan para protegerla y finalmente se las devuelve.

Hay un personaje nuevo, Umut, una mujer que pertenece al linaje de los protectores y los ayuda a averiguar el significado de la profesía y la visión de Aden (la asesinan durante un ritual).

Las referencias a Adan y Eva / Jesús y Magdalena / Isis y Osiris / hombre y mujer pasan a ser agua y fuego / Luna y Sol / el pasado y el futuro / mujer y hombre / el bien y el mal y además hay una referencia a Horus, el juez divino y un apocalipsis diferente al que estamos acostumbrados a ver en series y películas occidentales inspiradas en La Biblia.

Serdar es aliado de Erhan, pero Melek y Ozan siguen en la organización.

Cuando siguen pistas es parecida a El código Da Vinci. Por las referencias religiosas y porque se nota que la serie está planificada y no escribieron las temporadas sobre la marcha podríamos compararla con Babilonia 5. Por último, el tema de las habitaciones secretas de la memoria es similar a las otras memorias de las Bene Gesserit de Dune. La serie tiende más al drama que a la fantasía, aborda temas espirituales y más allá de algunos detalles, resuelve las situaciones planteadas en un final coherente.

A pesar de que los protagonistas son conocidos por trabajar en telenovelas (Beren Saat en ¿Qué culpa tiene Fatmagul?) las actuaciones no son exageradas. La fotografía está bien lograda, en El protector le sacaron partido a los interiores de la cisterna y el baño turco y en The Gift a los exteriores, podemos disfrutar de unos paisajes bellísimos y de hecho algunas tomas aéreas parecen un aviso del ministerio de turismo.

La banda sonora y el vestuario son buenos, tanto los atuendos modernos como los tradicionales están interesantes. Hicieron muy buen trabajo con Serep (la madre de Atiye) y Melek que tienen looks completamente diferentes en cada temporada.

[shhlima]

Congratulations EVA, you have been accepted into the University of Lima as SANTANA LOPEZ!! To keep your spot at UoL, make sure that you send us your account within 24 HOURS and complete the CHECKLIST. But beware, Shady Lima is just waiting to expose your secret!

OOC INFO

NAME/ALIAS: eva PRONOUNS: she/her AGE: old TIMEZONE: cst ACTIVITY LEVEL: 8/10 PREVIOUS RP BLOG: blah TRIGGER(S): none ANYTHING ELSE?: none

INTRODUCTION

Hey, Lima, I’m SANTANA LOPEZ but everyone calls me SNIX, I identify as a CIS WOMAN and use SHE/HER pronouns. I was born on AUGUST 27TH making me TWENTY-ONE years old and a VIRGO. Most people call me the HBIC, maybe that’s because I am INTELLIGENT but also VAIN. If I had to describe my vibe, I would say it revolves around BREADSTIX, SHORT SKIRTS, & SMOKING CIGARS. Of course there is one thing I hope no one ever finds out, and that's I’M A CLOSETED LESBIAN & PUCK IS MY BEARD. Anyway, on a more fun note, people always say I look like CIERRA RAMIREZ.

FAMILY INFORMATION

HOMETOWN: lima, ohio FAMILY: lopez TYPE OF SIBLING: full BIRTH ORDER: oldest PARENTS STATUS: yes, but not happily POSSIBLE SIBLINGS: full, half, and adopted

SCHOOL DATA

YEAR IN SCHOOL: junior MAJOR/MINOR: fine arts (vocal performance) EXTRACURRICULARS: cheerios co-captain LIVING QUARTERS: 3 bd home with puck and maya OCCUPATION: bottle girl @ babes

HEADCANONS

From a young age, the Lopez children were being taught the importance of working hard. With their father being a doctor and their mother being a lawyer, they were at least well off enough that the kids were given opportunities most people that look like them weren't given. From music and dance lessons to sports, the Lopez children were all well rounded in something, which was how they liked it. But having extremely busy parents came with one downside: while their parents worked, the children were sent to Lima Heights Adjacent to be watched by their abuela, Alma Lopez. The woman is a strict, religious hard ass, so her grandchildren were being taught to stand up for themselves while also being respectful of her beliefs. That might not have been too hard when they were younger, but as she got older, Santana found herself testing her abuela and her beliefs more and more.

Although Santana could still excel in school and in cheerleading, it didn't take long for her to start rebelling once she hit her teenager years. What started out as just talking back to her teachers or telling a lie here or there to her parents quickly turned into stealing from her parents' liquor cabinet and sneaking out to parties. She didn't think any of it was that bad, or enough to get her disowned, but that changed in high school when she noticed the way her stare started to linger under her friend's skirts. Abuela had practically recited bible passages to her family for as long as San could remember, so she knew that the old woman saw homosexuality as an unforgivable sin, and she would outright disown her for it. Santana may have been her favorite grandchild (don't tell her siblings that), but Alma Lopez wouldn't go against her religious beliefs even for her mini me.

Withholding her desires for women worked out through high school, mostly, but by the time she graduated and was moving on to college, Santana knew she wouldn't be able to fight it for long. That's where Puck came in. The two are practically the male and female versions of the same person, so while their chemistry is mostly platonic, it's off the charts. With him being a single father who was quietly bisexual and hiding the identity of his baby mama, and her needing out of her parents' house so she could indulge in the beauty of women while in the closet, the perfect opportunity fell into their laps: they would be each other's beards. San moved in with him and his daughter Maya, who refers to her as Tia Santana, and as far as people know, the two are in a happily committed relationship. When Maya's asleep, San brings women she's met through her job at Babes over for a nightcap, and then kicks them out before her niece wakes up in the morning begging for Spanish lessons. It's almost too perfect of a situation, in her opinion, and it's her best option until she can get out of Ohio for good.

[uniquetyphoonmiracle]

Soy REY por HECHOS y por DERECHOS..además SALVADOR o AVISADOR a este MUNDO SATANICO APOCALIPTICO DE MIERDA O DEL ANTICRISTO y la PUTA VIRGEN O DE EVA Y $ATANA$ [=666] donde CAEN COMO MOSCAS

Por cierto..hablando de Bimba [Eleonora SALVATORE] BOSE q debuto en la obra BOTAS ROJAS [como las que se compró VIRGINIA MAESTRO en NASHVILLE donde las mostró en la fuente del NACI_MIENTO DE APOLO con AFRODITA=cd de KYLIE MINOGUE cuando se ZUMBABA a VELENCOSO apesar de ser ADVERTIDA CON UN CANCER que la inspiro NO MORE RAIN del cd X del que sacó una VERSION ESPECIAL MEXICO que compre junto al Dvd de EROS LIVE IN ROME en FABRICAS DE FRANCIA de la Avda JUAN PABLO II de VERACRUZ por la NAVIDAD DE 2008 cuando alquilo una CABAÑA en CHAMONIX por 12.000€ / semana para iniciar a VELENCOSO en el SNOWBOARD con una tabla BLACK HOLE por lo que tuvo que ir a URGENCIAS por una CAIDA..debutando como actor en Apocaliptica FIN seguida de SEÑOR DAME PACIENCIA y hacerle una serie a medida en ARGENTINA sobre un MODELO pero LATINO ..y muriendo su madre con 46 años de CANCER tras estar el 11_$ en NEW YORK donde inicio su carrera de MODELO con un anuncio en TIME SQUARE de BANANA REPUBLIC donde vi a KYLIE MINOGUE como una MAMA NOEL anunciando joyas como poyas catalanas TOUS sobre el LUMINOSO DE VIRGIN RECORDS como vi por 1era vez el dia de mi 38 cumple que MUSE grabo en MADRID o en un Directo su video RESISTENCE del cd HOMONIMO mientras VIRGINIA MAESTRO tocaba en TOLEDO o CAPITAL IMPERIAL del SACRO IMPERIO ROMANO GERMANICO Y ESPAÑOL con AME_RICA por CARLOS V de ALEMANIA y I de ESPAÑA]..sobre que vende su ALMA AL DIABLO para ser ESTRELLA DE ROCK y que fue dirigida por RAFA SANCHEZ de LA UNION cuyo padre murió al volcar su TRACTOR con Niños muriendo uno de ellos..vuelvo a recordar que dejó a padre de su hijos por un chico INGLES 18 años menor que conoció en la PLAZA DE COLON donde hacía SKATE y que se dedicaba a enseñar INGLES hasta que ella lo hizo MODELO [eso es lo que contó] y que conoció a MALOGRADO también por cáncer en 2017 David DEL_FIN en disco MOROCCO cuya abuela LUCIA BOSE cambió el nombre a TALISMAN rodando ambos un video en la PUERTA DEL SOL que fue una premonición trágica.

Murió BIMBA BOSE con 41 años los que tiene VIRGINIA MAESTRO..que creo que ha RECIBIDO un ULTIMATUM con la muerte de la Gimnasta con 17 años de TRAMPOLIN O CAMA ELASTICA de CABANILLAS DEL CAMPO [guadalajara] donde toco el 23_F junto a DESNÜDA teniendome a 1 metro un mes después en Sala BUHO REAL..pues creo que es fundamental estar LIMPIO DE VICIOS FISICOS como FUMAR Y ESPIRITUALES como MENTIR para no enfermar o sino esperar TENER SUERTE como dice un ESTUDIO SOBRE EL CANCER de FUNDACION "INTHEOS" que hizo un acto en el BERNABEU presentado por un PRIMO DE RIVERA [=ideologo de Franco ejecutado por TRAIDOR y enterrado junto a ÉL] teniendo por agencia de publicidad LA QUERIDA y donde CRIS MENDEZ [telonera de DANI MARTIN de EL CANTO DEL LOCO y amiga de VIRGINIA MAESTRO compartiendo guitarrista ISA KRANKY actual TRANSEXUAL LUKA KRANKY que por cierto me escribió un email respuesta] dono la canción VIDA contra el CANCER aunque a mi el PUTO FUTBOL o un IDOLO DE ORO me parece un CANCER SOCIAL

[agendaculturaldelima]

#Poesia

🗣Recital de Poesía: “SINFONÍA SENSUAL. 6º FESTIVAL DE POESÍA ERÓTICA” 📜✒👩

👥 Poetas: Shadi Moon, Eva Velásquez, Susy Morales, Charo Paloma, Robert Moreno, Andrés Kuo, Asociación Cultural Willaqcuna Perú, Edgard Santillán, Oscar Aguirre Mendis, Lily Cuadra y Las Abuelas Cuentereas [Doris América de la Cruz Peña, Carmen Rosa Laura, Lidia Reyes, Jaguinet Romero, Olinda Cajaleón, Pilar Ormeño y Teresa Clotilde Ojeda].

📕 Organiza: Casa del Poeta Peruano [CADELPO].

📌 IMPERDIBLE: 

📆 Miércoles 14 de Febrero

🕕 6:00pm.

🏫 Auditorio de la Casa de la Literatura (jr. Áncash 207, Estación Desamparados - Centro de Lima)

🚶‍♀️🚶‍♂️ Ingreso libre

[bewitchingbaker]

08. outside of the bedroom or domicile, where has your muse had sex?

A pause.

The baker's eyes widened as an all too familiar red hue filled his cheeks as if he were caught red-handed. For a moment, there were no words just the sounds of Terrace Martin's instrumentals and the road outside of them. For a brief moment, one could see his eyes drift to the rearview mirror to look at the backseat.

'Have ya eva fooled around outside the bedroom?'

A bashful chuckle escapes his lips. His prior silence told Beth everything she needed to know. Now while they were adults, Chris still treated the car he now owned as if it still belonged to Abuela Julia. At 17 he promised to only use the car for good purposes.

Getting home. Making deliveries. Helping people move.

But within his first year of dating the cute comedian with lovely hips, he broke that promise at a hidden parking lot for an abandoned drive-in theatre. Once that happened, he developed a certain kink for....' hanging out in his car'. Not just his car but also nice cars, as a certain artist managed to get him in the backseat of her vintage convertible.

It didn't stop at cars as the baker has had his fair share of encounters within the confines of his shower. Even at a hidden spot at a local art show and drawing room.

But Beth was someone he knew wouldn't judge him too much (though she would poke a little fun at him)

"Well..." Chris began. "I might have fooled around in a car, I won't confirm nor deny if it was in this car. A shower a few times and maybe a library and a drawing room."

The baker makes a smooth right turn.

"Have you ever done anything outside the bedroom?"

A pause.

"Did you want to fool around in the car?"

[ @brooklynislandgirl ]

[kahecha82]

hola gal como estas ??????........... yo elijah soy hetero............ el hetero ama a la mujer por sobre todas las cosas............... yo elijah no soy chanta mi abuela es la diosa era osea la diosa eva ................. yo elijah soy camu de aquarius .............. cuando niño me case con la diosa era osea la diosa eva por eso ocupo anillos de diamantes cada uno su precio 980 mil trillones de milones de dolares........... la traicion el castigo es la muerte ..........

[entrehojas2023]

Todos buscan a Nora Roy

Nadie sabe qué fue lo que impulsó a Nora Roy, una paciente del centro psiquiátrico Vera de la Cruz, a asesinar a su psiquiatra y a una de las enfermeras. Nadie entiende cómo fue capaz de encerrarlos en el sótano, matarlos y huir sin ser vista. Mientras todos buscan a Nora, Eva alquila una habitación a Charlotte, una parisina extraña y discreta. Una noche, Eva coincide en una discoteca con Adrián, un hombre al que apenas conoce, y terminan en su piso lo que parece una prometedora cita. A la mañana siguiente, Adrián no está y Charlotte ha desaparecido dejando tras de sí las paredes salpicadas de sangre y la vida de Eva perturbada de manera irremediable. "En el momento en que descubrí la sangre de mi compañera de piso salpicada en la pared y en el cabezal de la cama como si le hubieran volado los sesos, me prometí que nada de lo que hubiera ocurrido en esa habitación influiría en mi vida. No quería problemas y mucho menos policías merodeando por el piso heredado de mi abuela, quien, tres días antes de morir, me soltó que ese lugar era un imán para las desdichas y para la oscuridad, que anduviera con cuidado. Pero no le hice caso dada su demencia senil. Supongo que una parte inconsciente de mí se preparó para algo así, hasta yo misma me sorprendí del temple con el que limpié a conciencia la sangre, aun sabiendo que esta no desaparece del todo pese a ser imperceptible a la vista. Pero toda decisión tiene sus consecuencias. Y esas consecuencias, tarde o temprano, te encuentran, aunque creas que eres ajena a ellas. La curiosidad siempre termina imponiéndose a la razón, sobre todo cuando la culpa trastoca tus planes. Lo que ocurrió después me impidió mirar hacia otro lado como si nada; al fin y al cabo, Charlotte, la parisina joven y perfecta que me encandiló con su marcado acento francés, llevaba solo dos semanas viviendo conmigo. Poco tiempo para cogerle cariño. Poco tiempo para sospechar que, tras esa fachada y esa extraña discreción, se escondía una persona distinta a la que parecía ser. Años dando tumbos sin estabilidad económica ni laboral, hasta que un día cualquiera del caluroso mes de septiembre de 2018 mi abuela falleció en la residencia mientras dormía, dejándome como única heredera de su cotizado piso de la plaza del Sol del barrio de Gracia, en Barcelona, y de los veinticinco mil euros de su cuenta de ahorros. Pedí un café con leche en el Café del Sol, el bar de debajo del piso en el que me crie, ahora mío a efectos legales. Podría haberme sentado a una de las mesas de la terraza y tomar el café tranquila. Félix, el camarero, solía pararse un rato a charlar conmigo; sin embargo, me deprimía estar sola en un bar, así que, café en mano, crucé el estrecho portal que data de principios del siglo XX y subí las angostas escaleras de piedra hasta el tercer piso. El sol entraba en el salón como una diagonal de luz. Una brisa primaveral infló las ligeras cortinas. La primavera, tímidamente, por fin se dejaba ver y los geranios del balcón empezaban a florecer como si no entendieran del fallecimiento de sus propietarios. Algunas plantas mueren con ellos; las plantas de mi abuela se habían rebelado, querían vivir. Siempre pensé que compartiría ese piso con Miguel. Hacía dos meses que lo había decorado a mi gusto con muebles de Ikea tras desprenderme de los dolorosos recuerdos que me provocaban algunas de las pertenencias de nana, mobiliario antiguo y farragoso, pero bien valorado en mercadillos y tiendas de antigüedades. Convivir cuatro meses con sus muebles después de su muerte fue suficiente tormento. Pero la vida es así de imprevisible y la estabilidad amorosa, la única estabilidad de la que podía presumir hasta hacía un año, se fue al garete poco tiempo antes de que mi abuela falleciera. Mi abuela. Que seguía siendo el centro de todo aunque ya no estuviera. Los diez años que llevaba con Miguel desgastaron la relación. Bueno, no sé, eso dijo él, una excusa como cualquier otra. Puede que tuviera razón, pero lo que más me dolió fue su cobardía, lo poco que dijo, su mirada esquiva. Yo lo quería, pero ¿y ese cosquilleo que se supone que debemos sentir cuando vemos a la persona de la que estamos enamorados?" Read the full article