#Pedro Cortes

[alainas-sims]

Salvador's Journal

We just got a letter from Aunt Dolores that my grandmother died. And not long after that, her partner Helen also caught ill and died, presumably of a broken heart. I felt sad and fell into Mom's arms like I was a little boy again. I didn't see Grandma often but I always loved her stories and how she taught me about gardening. I'll miss her a lot, just like I miss Dad. I need to remember him and now I must be strong and comfort Gloria and tell her about our family so she remembers.

We took the train down to Oasis Springs for the funeral of my grandma Consuelo. It was the first time I had been in all my life, and maybe someday I'll visit again. A lot of my dad's relatives were there, his aunts and uncle and cousins— just like Grandma, they are all a part of me.

[leclercskiesahead]

NOT THE WATERPROOF WOUND COVER AND THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER

[castilestateofmind]

"The armor, the pikes, the Toledo steel blades, the discipline and know-how from decades of fighting the Moor [...]. And above all, bravery and daring [...]. Once conquests were made, he never stopped".

-BAP on Pedro de Alvarado.

[rodrigogranda333]

The Water Cycle – Alchemy In America?

─ VERSION OF THE MARGINAL NOTES TO THE THIRD HYMN; to Tlaloc

── “Ahvia mexico teutlaneviloc”. means: “In Mexico one borrows from the god.”

── “Amapanitl an nauhcampa ye moquetzquetl” means: “Paper flags in the four directions have stood up.”

[musicaemdx]

A Place To Bury Strangers e MДQUIИД no Musicbox Lisboa. Inesquecível, é o que fica para memória futura

[alertachiapas]

INE, en espera de que Chiapas y Oaxaca se pongan de acuerdo

Para 2024 está garantizado el derecho al voto en las localidades chiapanecas ubicadas en la zona en disputada; el mapa electoral cambiará cuando los Estados establezcan acuerdos.

Para 2024 está garantizado el derecho al voto en las localidades chiapanecas ubicadas en la zona en disputada; el mapa electoral cambiará cuando los Estados establezcan acuerdos. Luego del fallo emitido por la Suprema Corte de Justicia la Nación (SCJN), que reconoce la pertenencia de 162 mil hectáreas de la selva de Los Chimalapas a Oaxaca, la Junta Local del Instituto Nacional Electoral en…

[lastnews-espana]

#ElSocialisto🥀 Pedro Sánchez quita a Defensa el control de los secretos oficiales y se lo otorga a Presidencia

#ElSocialisto🥀 Pedro Sánchez quita a Defensa el control de los secretos oficiales y se lo otorga a Presidencia

El Consejo de Ministros tramitará este lunes el anteproyecto de ley y fijará un mínimo de 50 años para guardar los “altos secretos” de Estado. Source link

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART IV

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst (heavy on this i'm sorry in advance) cussing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hi everyone! yes yes i know i disappeared for like 5 months but let's pretend i didn't. i've seen all of your messages and comments and i'm overwhelmed with all the love you've shown to the previous parts. thank you so much to everyone who likes, reblogs and leaves a kind message, i see you and love u. here's a new lil chapter, i hope you enjoy it. happy reading!!

February 28th, 2019 

Cort Theater, NY

The day was here. The day he had been eagerly waiting on for months. The anticipation had been building up, and now he was finally going to perform in front of a live audience for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The months of rehearsals and hard work had all led up to this moment, and he was ready to give it his all.

He was starring in the new Broadway production of “King Lear" as Edmond, one of the play's most complex and intriguing characters. The role had challenged him in ways he had never experienced before, pushing him to delve deep into the character's motivations and emotions. As he stepped onto the stage, the bright lights shining down on him, he felt a surge of adrenaline and a sense of purpose. 

And just like that, three hours and twenty-five minutes later, the final curtain fell on the play. The audience erupted into thunderous applause, their standing ovation a testament to their incredible performance. Exhausted but exhilarated, he knew he had given everything he had to the role and left it all on the stage. 

His mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The rush of adrenaline slowly subsided, and as much as he wanted to hear what everyone thought of his performance, there was only one person whose opinion mattered to him right now: yours. 

The last time he saw you was on your last day in Chile, almost two months ago. He vividly remembered the bittersweet farewell outside his family's house—you getting into the car and him closing the door. A door that seemed to separate their worlds. Since then, they had kept in touch through messages and occasional video calls, but it wasn't the same. Of course it wasn't. It will never be. 

The distance between them had only fueled his longing, making him yearn for your presence even more. Constantly trying to derail his one-track mind. 

He knows you're here. He had invited his siblings and closest friends. However, he was unsure of your attendance until an hour before the show, when he received a text from Oscar:

"She's coming with me. Stop pacing and good luck." 

He hadn't really discussed what happened back in Chile with Oscar or anyone, for that matter, but he could tell everyone knew something was off about how the two of you interacted. So when he got the message from Oscar, instead of freaking out about him potentially finding out about you two, he felt relieved. 

It gave him comfort to know that Oscar knew him so well that he was aware of the fact that you were the cause of his two-hour pacing in his dressing room. It was also fucking stupid and laughable. 

The energy backstage was electric as he walked through the bustling crowd of crew members and performers. He entered his dressing room, grabbing his phone and immediately seeing all the texts from friends and his siblings. He opened one from Javiera: "Felicidades, hermanito! Killed it. See you at The Terrace." 

They had planned on getting together afterwards to celebrate. He replied with a grateful smile, saying he'd be there in a few and to get there without him. He quickly changed into a more casual outfit: dark jeans and a comfortable white t-shirt. Wanting to unwind after the intense performance, he made his way to the restaurant. It was only a few blocks away from the theater, so he decided to enjoy the pleasant evening weather and take a leisurely stroll. 

Once he got there and stepped out of the elevator, Pedro watched you from across the room. A delicate hand rested on Oscar's shoulder as you chatted and laughed together. He felt a bubble of pride in himself swell; it warmed him to know that you were enjoying yourself and having a good time. 

He felt like an intruder in your intimate moment, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. At least I don't have to miss her anymore because she's right there, he thought. 

Pedro made his way across the room, trying to appear nonchalant as he approached the table. 

"There he is! the man of the hour," Oscar said, a wide smile spreading across his face. 

You turned. Eyes meeting, and it was like a car crash. A collision of emotions and memories flooding back all at once. The air between you crackled with unresolved tension, and Pedro's heart raced as he struggled to find the right words to say.  

"You came," he said, his voice stern. Not reflecting at all the turmoil inside him. "Thank you." 

"Well, you called," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as well. Deep down, though, your heart was pounding just as fast as Pedro's. 

Everyone seemed to ignore the palpable tension in the room and how he was losing his mind over these unclear conversations between your glances, carrying on with their congratulatory words to Pedro as if nothing had happened. But for Pedro and you, time stood still. 

People settled into an easy conversation, enjoying each other's company as the night went on. As the night went on, Pedro and you exchanged occasional glances, silently acknowledging the shared secret that lingered. He wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs: We slept together! We slept together, and I loved it! He wanted every single person in New York to hear it. To feel the exhilaration and passion that consumed him. 

However, to say it was to make it real, and Pedro wasn't quite ready to face the consequences of that reality just yet. He knew his place in her life. He knew it was better this way. However, the ever-present question of 'Is it better to have something and lose it than never have it at all?' haunted his mind. 

The laughter and chatter around you provided a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within both of you. After a couple drinks, the atmosphere became more relaxed, and Pedro found himself engaging in lighthearted conversations with the people around him. 

"Ah, man. I need a cigarrette," he said to Oscar, reaching into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. 

"Go, go. I'll keep everyone entertained," Oscar replied with a smile, gesturing towards the lively crowd. Pedro nodded gratefully and stepped outside, the cool night air providing a brief respite from the chaos of his thoughts. As he lit his cigarette and took a long drag, he couldn't help but wonder if the temporary escape it offered was worth the potential consequences. 

"I thought you quit," you remarked, slowly making your way to him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. Pedro turned and exhaled a cloud of smoke, a wistful expression crossing his face. "I did, but you know me. I have a hard time letting go of old habits," he admitted, flicking the ash off his cigarette.

"Care to share?" you asked, gesturing towards the pack of cigarettes in his hand. Pedro hesitated for a moment. 

"No." 

"No?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. 

"I don't want to be the reason you get lung cancer." 

You chuckled. "Ok, so you can do it, but I can't. Got it." 

"I'm old; there's no use," he said with a shrug. "However, you have a whole life ahead of you."

"You make it sound like you're on a deathbed," you teased, taking a playful jab at Pedro's dramatic statement. He smirked and took a long drag from his cigarette before responding. "Maybe I am, in a way. But hey, we all gotta go someday, right?" 

"That's...dark," you sighed. "mind if we changed the subject?" 

"Sure, what do you want to talk about?" Pedro asked, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Anything to distract me from my impending doom," he added with a smirk. 

A laugh escaped your lips as you thought of a lighter topic. "How about we discuss your play?"  Pedro's eyes lit up at the suggestion, momentarily forgetting about his earlier morbid thoughts. 

"How are you feeling about your performance?"

Pedro looked at you for a little too long before finally responding, "It's funny I'm thinking about death because I've never felt more alive than on that stage." 

"I could tell. I thought you were great, P." 

He shook his head modestly. "Thanks, but I still feel like there's room for improvement. I want to push myself even further in the next shows." 

"I get that." 

Pedro watched you stare at the ground. His thoughts began to conspire against him, and as he was about to speak, you also looked up and opened your mouth at the same time. Words rushed out in unison.

You both paused, realizing you had interrupted each other. Pedro chuckled tentatively and motioned for you to go ahead. "Sorry, you first," he said with a polite smile. 

You bit your lip, seemingly trying to gather your thoughts. "It's nothing. I just wanted to tell you I'll be in Europe for awhile. I got the Nolan movie."  

"Woah, another one?" 

"Yup. The role isn't as big as in interstellar, but I love working with him so much I couldn't pass up the opportunity."  Pedro nodded, a mix of excitement and disappointment flickering across his face. "That's amazing; congratulations. I'm sure you'll do great, as always," he said sincerely. "I'll definitely miss having you around, though." 

"Well, it's not like it'll be much different than now," you replied. "I haven't seen you since...since you know,"  your expression turned somber, cheeks flushed. 

You were right. He was so busy with the play and his new role in the second installment of Wonder Woman that he barely had any time. He even had to cut back on his time on set for The Mandalorian reshoots this month and a few scenes for a second season that haven't even been announced. 

"Yeah, I know." 

"Should we talk about it?" 

"I mean, there's nothing to talk about, really," Pedro said with a shrug, not daring to look you in the eye. "We slept together, and we both agreed that was it. No need to complicate things further." he tried to maintain a casual tone, but his voice wavered slightly. 

Pedro wanted to scream. The nicotine clouding his lungs was the only thing keeping him from losing control. It seemed like all he was left with was a painful reminder of what could have been. He looked at you as he took another puff of smoke. Your eyes clearly searching for a trace of emotion in his face, but finding none. 

A droplet of rain landed on Pedro's cheek as he inhaled deeply, feeling the coolness against his skin. It was as if the universe was reflecting his inner turmoil, adding to the weight of his unspoken words. He watched as you looked up at the darkening sky, the raindrops falling steadily on your hair. 

The sound of thunder echoed in the distance, mirroring the storm brewing within him. He dropped the cigarrette from his hand, its ember extinguished by the rain.

"Isn't that the point of love, though?" you finally responded, your voice raspy and drunk with bitterness and resignation. "To complicate things, to make us question everything, to drive us to the brink of madness. Maybe it's not meant to be simple, Pedro." 

His body tensed up, and your words clearly struck a nerve. The weight of your statement hung heavy in the air, leaving an uncomfortable silence between you both. It was no secret that his perspective on love had been tainted by past experiences, leaving him guarded and unwilling to let go of his pain. 

"You're right. Which is why I would rather stay away from it. I've seen firsthand the havoc it can wreak on people's lives," Pedro admitted, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. He knows he's hurting you; he can see it by the way your eyes glisten with unshed tears. 

"So that's it, then?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Is this how it is always going to be?"

But he can't risk it. "I thought we were on the same page with this." 

He sees how your jaw tightens at his statement. He knows he's hurting you. He's twisting the knife even deeper. He can't seem to stop just because he believes it's for the better. 

Please know it's for the better. 

"Yeah, I guess it's better this way," you spat back, your voice filled with anger. Of course, you could tell exactly how he was feeling. 

"Guys! What the fuck are you doing outside? It's fucking pouring!" A friend shouts from the doorway. "Get inside!" 

You both stood there staring at each other, momentarily forgetting the rain pouring down around you. 

“Yeah. What the fuck are we doing?" you say, not even trying to mask the anger in your voice. 

He wants to reach out and kiss you. Kiss you so hard that his lips would bruise. Kiss you so hard that your pain will fade away. But that action would go against everything he had just said. 

So he just watches you turn around and leave. 

What the fuck is he doing?

3 months later

After weeks of shooting in the United Kingdom and the Amalfi Coast, you and the crew finally had a couple of days off. Aaron, John, and Rob had the brilliant idea to take a quick trip to Monaco. 

“It’s a Grand Prix weekend,” Aaron said excitedly. “Maybe if we make a few calls, we could still snag some passes.” 

“Doesn’t that start this week?” Rob inquired, taking a sip of his drink. Ever since your arrival in Italy, the four of you finally got the chance to eat dinner together at a nice restaurant. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Aaron waved his hands in the air, “but if we leave tomorrow, there’s plenty of time to get there and enjoy ourselves.” 

You were so focused on your meal that you missed the sound of your name coming from Aaron’s mouth. “Hellooo?” he continued, and you looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Aren’t you friends with Lewis Hamilton?” 

“Yeah. Well, I mean, we see each other sometimes at events and stuff. He’s really nice,” you tell him, still feeling a bit distracted. 

“Could you maybe give him a call and get us those passes?” he asks, pouting like a puppy. John laughs at him, hitting him lightly on the arm. 

“Sure, I can try,” you reply, feeling a bit hesitant. You rarely ask for special favors and don't want to come across as entitled, even more so when you haven't spoken to Lewis in so long. 

“Yes!” Aaron celebrates by raising his fists. "Um, one more thing,"

“Mate, you’re pushing it now,” Rob remarks with a playful tone. You can tell he's enjoying the banter between you and Aaron. 

“Go on,” you gesture at him to continue, a smile on your face. 

“Could we also use your PP?” 

“Use her what now?” John exclaims. Laughter erupts from Rob's mouth, making you and John join in. 

“Her private plane, mate!” Aaron says, embarrassed. 

“Yes, Aaron,” you get out, still laughing. “I’ll let you use my PP.”

"Thank you!" 

•••

The flight to Monaco was smooth and quick. You spent most of it trying to focus on a script for a project after this one while the boys all slept. After your dinner last night, you made two calls: one to Lewis to ask about the passes and one to your publicist to let her know about your last-minute adventure. 

Lewis was very nice as usual and said that, of course, he can get you the passes, while your agent said attending an F1 weekend would be good publicity and good fun. A win-win situation, she called it. She also said that since you were going to attend the race, you might as well attend all the events that come with it, which meant she had to fly in to assist you.

By the time the plane finally landed and you made it to the hotel, you were worn out. You spent the rest of the afternoon and night sleeping, without a care in the world. The next day, soft knocks on the door woke you up. 

"It's me,"  Taylor's voice called out. 

You groggily got out of bed and opened the door to find her standing there with her laptop, a cup of coffee, and a huge smile on her face. "Good morning, sleeping beauty." 

Although you hadn't passed a mirror on your way to answer the door, you had the feeling that you didn't look visually appealing at the moment. Your body ached, like you wrestled with a wild animal all night and lost. 

"Did you just get here?" you ask her, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. She smiles and shakes her head. "I got here late last night, but you weren't answering the phone, so I called Renata instead, and she said you were sleeping. And like the great person I am, I let you rest." Renata is your PA/publicist, a great friend, and one of the two constants in your life, along with Taylor. 

"Wow, so kind of you," you say sarcastically, but can't help the small smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. "Come in." 

As Taylor enters, you shut the door behind her. She scans the space in fascination. There are floor-to-ceiling windows on the wall that run the length of the room and the wall to your left, which is behind the dining room table. A broad view of the harbor can be seen between the sheer, white, fluttering lengths of the floating curtains. 

"Gorgeous suite," she says, sitting on the plush sofa across the room. 

"Ren always chooses the best rooms, so yes," you tell her, sinking once again into your warm bed. 

"You're still tired? You've slept for like 16 hours already," she chuckles, pouring herself a glass of water from the crystal pitcher on the side table. "I know, but I guess the jetlag is hitting me harder than I thought," you reply with a yawn, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath of the fragrant flowers on the nightstand. 

"You didn't come to Monaco to sleep, did you?" Taylor chuckles, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

"Yes?" 

"No! We have a full itinerary planned for today, starting with breakfast at Café de Paris across the street with the boys. And then we're off to the Hotel de Paris for a F1 brunch event. There will be lots of food, drinks, and hot guys. Specifically, hot F1 drivers," you groan-laugh inwardly at the thought of dragging yourself out of bed so early for the sake of hot guys. "You know that's the last thing on my mind, right?" 

"Well, not on mine!" she replies with a wink. "But seriously, it's not just about the eye candy. The event is also for a good cause, raising funds for a local charity. And it's also a great place to network and meet new people—you know the drill." You nod in agreement, feeling more motivated to attend, knowing that it's for a meaningful purpose. 

With a determined sigh, you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. "Okay, I'll shower."

"Let me call Renata and tell her to prep the car and get the glam team in here." 

"Thank you," you tell her, disappearing into the bathroom. 

•••

Two hours later, you find yourself entering the venue of a charity event with your very impatient and rather enthusiastic co-star and best friend, Aaron. The venue is buzzing with excitement as you take in the elegant decorations and the well-dressed attendees. Since it's Monaco in May, you're sporting a light blue strapless top and white linen pants that complement the warm weather and the sophisticated atmosphere of the event.

"I can't believe Rob and John sat this one out because they were 'too tired', Aaron remarks, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Well, they don't have the energy of a 5-year-old, unlike you," you tease, playfully nudging him. "But hey, more champagne for us," you add with a mischievous grin as you grab two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. "Cheers."

The bubbles tickle your nose as you take a sip, savoring the crisp and refreshing taste. 

Camera flashes illuminate the room as people mingle and engage in lively conversations. You're stopped every 5 minutes by someone wanting to take a picture with you. You oblige every time with a smile, posing for each photo and exchanging pleasantries. After all, that's why you're here for. 

Everything was going smoothly until someone bumped into you, causing you to spill champagne all over your clothes. The cold liquid seeps mostly through the fabric of your top, leaving a sticky sensation against your skin. 

"Oh, my bad," you hear a thick Australian accent apologize. You turn to see a rather tall, tan-skinned, handsome man with a sheepish grin on his face. Did you say how handsome he was? And what the fuck was he smiling for? 

Once he realizes who you are, his eyes widen in surprise and anguish. People start noticing the commotion and turn their attention towards the two of you. The man quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the crowd, his grip firm but gentle. 

"Hey! Where are you taking me!" you protest, trying to free your arm from his grasp. His grip tightens slightly, but he maintains a calm demeanor as he leads you towards a quieter corner. As you reach a bathroom, he finally releases his hold on you and takes a step back, his expression filled with concern. 

"Relax, I'm not kidnapping you." 

The chaos around you fades into the background as he shuts the door and starts grabbing paper towels. "Shit, here," he says, handing you one. "Sorry for ruining your clothes."  

You start wiping the spilled drink off your clothes, a little annoyed at the inconvenience. You can feel his gaze burning into you without looking. 

"Do ya want me to give you mine?" he offers, gesturing towards his own shirt. "It might be a bit big on you, but at least it's dry." he pauses, waiting for your response. 

You stare at him. "And what? you're going to walk around shirtless?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. He chuckles. "Yeah, I have a banging body, so I'll just be doing everybody here a favor here, really," he replies with a smirk. 

You roll your eyes at his cocky remark. "I think I'll manage without your shirt, thanks," you say sarcastically. "But I appreciate the offer." 

He laughs as he observes you. "Okay, then let me find another way to make it up to you." 

"There's no need."

"Do you have plans tonight?"

"I'm fine."

"Does 7 p.m. sound good to you?"

"Listen—"

"Where are you staying?" 

"I don't even know you."

"It's Daniel."

"Okay, Daniel. I don't know you, so no."

"But you could," he says with a playful glint in his eyes. "And who knows, it could be the start of something new." 

"Are you quoting High School Musical to me?" 

"Hey, it's a classic. And it was right there." 

You chuckle, unable to resist his charm. Something lights up in his eyes. 

"Listen, I won't push you anymore. It's up to you. Can't blame me for trying, though." you raise an eyebrow, considering his words. 

"I'm going to go now," you tell him, pointing at the door. 

He nods understandingly. "See ya later."

•••

After about 30 more minutes of indulging everyone in conversation and enjoying the party, Lewis Hamilton finds you. "Hi sweetie, there you are," he greets you, ever so polite. "I heard chatter that you were here. I thought I wouldn't see you until tomorrow's practice sessions." 

"Oh yeah, but you know duty calls," you say with a smile as you lean in to hug him. "It's so nice to see you. Thanks again for the passes." 

"Oh, it's nothing. You would've gotten them without me, but I'm glad you called me instead. How have you been enjoying Monaco so far?" 

"Good, good—" you begin, but before you can finish your sentence, a burst of laughter you recognize from earlier erupts from across the room. "Actually, do you happen to know him?" you ask Lewis, gesturing with your head towards the source of laughter. Daniel is joyfully engaged in conversation with a group of people. Lewis follows your gaze and chuckles, "Ah, that's Daniel Ricciardo. He's a fellow Formula 1 driver and quite the character, to be honest. He's a cool dude." 

"Huh," is all you manage to say as you watch Daniel animatedly tell a story, his infectious laughter filling the room. 

"What are we looking at?" Renata and Aaron find you and join the conversation; their curiosity is piqued. 

"Nothing," you quickly respond. Renata immediately caught on to your evasive response and followed your gaze. "Oh, Daniel?" she exclaims, voice hushed and her eyes glinting with excitement. 

"Wait, you know who he is?"

"I did my homework on the plane. He drives for Renault, and he looks great doing it."

Lewis and Aaron chuckle at Renata's enthusiasm, sharing in her excitement. "I think Renata will be watching a few races from now on," Lewis remarks, causing everyone to laugh. Renata shrugs, a proud smile on her face. "Trust me, I will, but not for him. Have you heard of Charles Leclerc?" 

You're still staring at Daniel, dumbfounded. Wheels are turning in your mind. 

Aaron's voice interrupts your thoughts. "So...why are we still staring at him?" 

"I'm going on a date with him tonight." 

Your own declaration surprises you. 

"Wait, you are?" both of your friends say in unison, their eyes widening with curiosity. 

"Yes," you say, setting down your drink. "You guys ready to go now?" 

They nodded, not wanting to press further but clearly intrigued by this, and you said your goodbyes to Lewis, promising to see him on Friday at the track. As you made your way to the exit, you grabbed Daniel by the arm and pulled him aside. 

"Hotel Hermitage, 7 p.m., Room 303. Don't be late," you whispered, voice calm and steady. Daniel's mouth curled into a smile, but he maintained his composure and nodded, a feeling of excitement in his gaze. With a final pat on his shoulder, you rejoined your friends and headed out of the venue, eager for the evening ahead. 

•••

You don't know what the hell you were thinking when you said yes. You could feel your anxiety building as the time approached—face flushed, stomach twisting in knots. James and Liz, your hair and makeup team, paused, laying out brushes and curling wands. "Everything okay, love?" James asked. "You want us out?" 

"No, keep going. You're almost done, anyway. I'm just internally freaking out a little." 

"You're great and look beautiful," Liz replied. "There's nothing to worry about."

You give her a tight smile and try to believe her words, but the nagging doubts continue to linger in the back of your mind. As the final touches are applied, you take a deep breath and say your goodbyes to them. 

"Good luck and have fun!" James says as Liz winks at you and closes the door. You chuckle at their enthusiasm. You walk back into the bedroom and pick up the black cocktail dress hanging on the closet door. The soft fabric feels comforting against your fingertips as you slip it on. The dress hugs your curves perfectly, accentuating your best features. You grab your clutch and check yourself in the mirror one last time. 

A knock on the door startles you. "Coming!" 

Breathe, you remind yourself. 

"Wow," Daniel says with a warm smile. "You look absolutely stunning. Are you ready to go?"  

You're sure your face must look like a tomato as you thank Daniel for the compliment. 

"Yes, let's." 

As you reach the entrance of the hotel, Daniel hands the valet a ticket, and he opens the door of his car for you. "My lady," he says with a playful bow. You can't help but feel a rush of excitement as you step into the very flashy luxury car. For an F1 driver, you didn't expect anything less. The soft leather seats hug your body as you settle in, and the sleek interior design adds to the overall opulence of the vehicle. Daniel starts the engine, and the car glides smoothly onto the road. 

"Where are you taking me?" 

He looks at you with a mischevious grin plastered on his face. "My friend Max is throwing a yatch party tonight, and I thought it would be the perfect way to spend the night," he says, revving the engine slightly. "But I intend to dine and wine you before we head there." 

"Oh," you reply nonchalantly, "Nice."

"Still playing hard to get?"

You shrug and give him a grin. 

"That's alright. I enjoy a good challenge," he replies, his eyes sparkling. "But I have a feeling that by the end of the week, you won't be able to resist my charm." He winks at you. 

"You're quite confident, aren't you?" you say, raising an eyebrow. "But don't underestimate my ability to resist." You smirk back at him, ready to prove him wrong. 

The car pulls up to the entrance of the restaurant, and you both step out onto the bustling street. You make your way inside. "Oh, I've been here before," you say lowly, feeling a little satisfied that it is something you've experienced already, so it's harder for him to impress you. 

You couldn't have been more wrong, though. 

The hostess greets you with a warm smile and leads you to the main dining area. As you follow her, you can't help but notice it's....empty. Not a single table is occupied. The dimly lit room feels intimate and cozy, with soft music playing in the background and red roses adorning each table.  

The hostess gestures towards a table in the middle of the room. "The waiter will be with you shortly," she says before leaving you alone. 

You turn around, facing Daniel. "Did you rent out the entire restaurant for us?" you ask, slightly surprised. Daniel chuckles and shakes his head. "No, I just made a reservation for a quiet evening," he replies. 

"You're an awful liar."

"I just saw how hectic everything was for you this morning, with all the pictures and people clamoring for your attention. I wanted to give you a break from that and create a peaceful vibe for us to enjoy tonight," Daniel explains, his eyes filled with sincerity. 

You smile. "That's very thoughtful. Thank you."

"I have my moments." 

The night continues with the two of you enjoying the delicious food and engaging in fun and light conversation. The peaceful atmosphere allows you both to relax and truly connect with each other. 

Just what you needed but didn't realize until now. 

"You're literally always smiling," you tell him. In the very short time you've known Daniel, there's something constant about him: his distinctive smile. Daniel chuckles and replies, "It's amazing what surgery can do. Formula 1 pays really well, and I was able to put a lot of that money into permanent smile surgery."

You burst out laughing. "Well, they did a great job," you say, still chuckling.

•••

You glided arm in arm onto the yatch, dry martinis in hand and a revolving stream of waitstaff to refill your drinks as soon as they emptied. You feel more relaxed and comfortable now. Maybe it was the three glasses of wine you had at dinner and the drink that's currently in your hand, or maybe it was the contagious laughter and carefree attitude of your date. 

Cote d'Azur was a smooth wash of precious stones at this time of year. The ocean's deep, smoky blue stretched out like a shiny carpet. Loud music blasted from the speakers, and the upper deck was transformed into a vibrant dance floor with people spinning and swaying to the beat. 

You wished you could rest your head on Daniel's shoulder without looking like you were already drunk. 

He excitedly introduced you to his friends, who instantly made you feel like part of their tight-knit circle. As the night progressed, you found yourself effortlessly blending in. 

"So how did this insufferable clown manage to take you out on a date?" Max asked, his voice loud over the booming music. 

You shared a brief glance with Daniel. "He spilled champagne all over me."

"And then she couldn't help but fall for my charming personality and good looks," Daniel interjected with a playful grin. 

"Yes, that's exactly what happened." 

Daniel puts a hand on your lower back, and you mindlessly lean into his touch. "You wanna go outside for a bit?" 

The need for some fresh air and a break from the crowded room causes you to hum in agreement. You leaned over and observed the white waves as they cut through the water as you came across a section of railing near the stern of the yatch. 

The sound of the waves crashing against the yacht provided a soothing soundtrack to your conversation. As you leaned against the railing, Daniel's playful banter continued. 

"Are you having fun?" 

"Very much so," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

"So I'm winning sooner than I thought I would."

"Winning what exactly, Daniel?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully. "The game of enjoying this beautiful yacht ride? Then yes, I suppose you are." 

He laughed, but it wasn't his usual boisterous laugh. It was a softer, more genuine sound that made your heart flutter. 

He came closer. "Would you like me to whisper it in your ear?" 

As he leaned in, you could feel the warmth of his presence enveloping you. His eyes were locked with yours. 

"You're falling for me," he whispered, his voice husky. The words sent a shiver down your spine, confirming what you had been trying to deny for the past hour or so. Not because you didn't find him charming or attractive, but because you felt like you were betraying the person who broke your heart months ago. 

How can someone break your heart if it wasn't theirs to begin with? 

You push back those thoughts. 

The playful banter that played out all night faded into the background as a new energy filled the air, sparking a connection between the two of you that was impossible to ignore. 

You give in. 

"You think?" 

He nods, his eyes dark. Your hands were encircling his neck, one at the nape of his neck and the other against the side, where you could feel his heart pounding beneath the pads of your fingers. Your fingers scraped at bristled hairs as you held onto his curls, and you enjoyed the feel of them rubbing against the pads of your fingers. You were tightly gripping him in your hands, not allowing even a millimeter to pass.

Daniel couldn’t decide where to touch you. You huffed a breath against his mouth as the lightest of touches - the barest featherweight of fingertips, like your skin was made of silk, traced along the curve of your jawline. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, making you crave more of his touch. His fingers continued their exploration, trailing down the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. 

He had pressed you against the railing at your back with no warning, and you felt the firm pressure of it. And now you arose from it, attempting to cling to every bone-hard surface of Daniel's body. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a fire within you that consumed all rational thought.

"People are watching," you whispered breathlessly, breaking the kiss reluctantly. Daniel's eyes met yours, filled with a mix of desire and mischief. He smirked, his hand sliding down your waist possessively. 

"Let them."

You were so fucked. 

•••

You’d barely been able to breathe these past couple of days with events and rendezvous with Daniel consuming your every waking moments. It was fast paced and you found yourself completely swept up in the whirlwind of emotions. He was showing you his world and you were willingly diving headfirst into it. 

It was Saturday morning, which meant is qualifying day and despite all of the media commitments and preparation that Daniel had to do, he’d promised breakfast as a way to make up for it. So here you were at a cafe only a short walk from the circuit, chewing your way through a delicious stack of pancakes while Daniel sipped on his coffee. 

It felt oddly comforting to be sitting there with him. He was a stranger to you just a few days ago, but now he feels like a familiar presence. The conversations flowed effortlessly between you; he was funny, attentive, and attentive, but most importantly, he wasn't afraid of showing you off and telling you how much he liked you. 

From the moment you crossed paths, he showed interest in you and made an effort. You haven't questioned whether he genuinely liked you or not. It was nice to be with someone who didn't play games or hide their feelings. 

Your mind has also found a new way to torture you: whenever you felt happy with Daniel, a nagging voice in the back of your head would remind you of him. 

Him. Him. Him. 

You couldn't even say or think of his name. It was too much.  

And yes, you were content, but you couldn't help but think about it. 

The first time you tasted Daniel's lips, you were let down it wasn't the same. That feeling of disappointment lingered, but as days passed, it dissipated more and more. Maybe one day it'll be gone completely, you thought. 

"So let me get this straight," you say, putting your fork and knife down on the plate. "You were on your way to winning in 2016, but a pit stop error cost you the race?" 

Daniel nods. "It haunted me for so long. I couldn't shake off the frustration."

You grab your coffee and lean back on the chair, listening intently. "It was very dark. I should've been happy because I was on the podium in Monaco, and that's huge, but I was miserable. The whole time, all I wanted to do was smash everything to pieces and scream, which is something you do not want to do in front of Monaco royalty, by the way." 

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by Daniel's emotional upheaval. This was clearly a pivotal moment for him. "So, what finally helped you move past that?" you ask, curious to hear his response. 

"Well," Daniel begins, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I won last year." 

"Yeah, that'll do it." 

You both laugh, and he places a hand on your knee beneath the table. "But honestly," he continues, his voice softening. "It wasn't just about winning. It was about proving to myself that I could overcome my own limitations and achieve greatness." 

"So...winning basically," you respond, teasingly. 

"See, I wanted to be humble about it, but let's be real, winning felt pretty damn good," Daniel admits with a sheepish grin. "I love winning."  

You snort in amusement, "Well, I guess a little bit of bragging rights never hurt anyone." 

You two carry on with your meals. His left hand still on your knee, and the air filled with contentment. 

•••

While Daniel returned from the qualifying weigh-in, you waited at the back of the garage. You had gradually gotten to know the Renault team over the previous two days. Everyone, from the mechanics to the media team, has been friendly and welcoming to you. You're still trying to decide whether it's because of Daniel, your status, or that they were just nice. Pretty sure it was all three. 

You were aware that it would be best for you to stay out of the way as the team worked and the broadcasting teams were filming in and around the pit lane, but you were unable to hide in Daniel's prep room. At the back of the garage, you found a calm area where you could watch the busy activity without being a nuisance. 

You were aware that, although you might have been in the VIP sections, you couldn't be that far away from him. You were able to feel more connected to Daniel and the team's spirit by spending time in the garage.

The phone had been ringing nonstop all day in the back pocket of your pants; the screen frequently flashed with new notifications from your social media accounts or texts or calls from friends and family. You were aware that the countless pictures of Daniel and you parading through Monaco were the root of the problem. 

It was truly a sight to behold to be watching him race around the track and walk around the paddock. 

He was in his element. 

"You look cute, baby," he says, referring to the oversized headseat on your head. His face flushed from the heat, and yours from the compliment. His hair was messy and a little damp from sweat, evidence of the intense racing. He looked perfect. 

Fuck. 

He leaned in for a kiss, his lips brushing against yours, electricity rushing through you. 

Fuck. 

"I think you're winning," you say, your eyes fixed on him. 

"Aw, that's sweet of you, baby, but I didn't qualify that great," he chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. 

"That's not what I meant."

His face is puzzled for a moment before realization dawns on him. He smirks, his signature smile spreading across his face. "Oh," he says, his voice filled with warmth and affection. 

"Yeah," you say, barely above a whisper, your eyes never leaving his. 

"I told you so," he replies, his voice filled with confidence and pride. 

"Shut up," you say playfully before kissing him again.

Fuck. 

You were falling for him. 

a/n: oh oh pedro...someone's stealing your girl. are you guys team pedro or team daniel?

Reblog or like if you enjoyed it! thank you for reading :)

[miracleintheandes]

The survivors and the actors who play them

Nando Parrado and Agustin Pardella

Roberto Canessa and Matías Recalt

Fito Strauch and Esteban Kukuczka

Antonio Vizintín and Agustin Della Corte

Eduardo Strauch and Rafael Federman

Daniel Fernandez and Francisco Romero

Alvaro Mangino and Juan Caruso (with Alvaro's wife Margarita)

José Luiz "Coche" Inciarte and Simon Hempe

Pancho Delgado and Valentino Alonso

Roy Harley and Andy Pruss

Moncho Sabella and Rocco Posca

Bobby François and Agustin Berruti

Gustavo Zerbino and Tomas Wolf

Carlitos Paez and Felipe Otaño

Pedro Algorta and Luciano Chattón

Javier Methol and Esteban Bigliardi (Javier passed away in 2015)

[butvega]

I. 𝖆𝖑𝖚𝖆𝖉𝖔.

𝖆𝖑𝖚𝖆𝖉𝖔.

avisos: nesta história, andrew garfield representa o seu, o meu, o nosso: remus lupin. menção à cio, masturbação masculina, e primeira vez. apenas menção mesmo, sorry.

Seus pézinhos andavam rápidos pelos corredores. Envolta na capa da invisibilidade emprestada por Potter, você caminhava às pressas até o quarto de Remus. A lua, que aos poucos tornava-se minguante, iluminava os corredores Grifinórios, tornando sua fuga até o dormitório masculino mais simples.

Claro, se sentia envergonhada, mas sabia que os marotos dariam um jeito de vocês ficarem a sós, pelo menos um pouco. James estaria suplicando o amor de Lily por algum canto do castelo, Sirius aos amassos com sua amada sonserina, e Pedro... Bem, sendo o Pedro.

Abre com delicadeza a porta, não antes de dar leves toques. O encontra sentadinho na cama, um sorriso sem graça no rostinho que contém cortes e arranhões. Está todo machucado, como sempre. Você suspira, uma feição sofrêga e preocupada ao mirar seu namorado daquele jeito. Já trás consigo sua caixa de primeiros socorros, e a coloca ao lado dele na cama, para primeiro selar com vontade os lábios macios do mais velho.

"Por Merlin, Remus... Está mais machucado do que a última vez." você acaricia o rosto dele, que aprecia de bom grado o carinho como um filhote.

"Esse mês foi bem forte. Mas já passou, amor." disse para acalentá-la, já percebendo as lágrimas se formando em seus olhinhos. Odiava vê-lo machucado. Remus era doce demais para tal.

"Deixe-me cuidar desses machucados, anda!" disse você, incisiva, sentando-se ao lado dele na cama, e passando a tratar os ferimentos com alguns remédios e poções cicatrizantes.

Remus sabia o motivo deste ciclo ter sido tão poderoso, mas nunca diria a ti. Se sentia sujo e impróprio, havia tido um cio, um desses que vinham de alguns em alguns meses, maltratando seu físico e seu psicológico, o fazendo passar horas e horas tocando-se com violência, no mais cru e direto contato de sua palma, com seu membro.

Mas não, não lhe diria. O que você pensaria, afinal? Uma moça tão pura, tímida, que ali estava limpando seus machucados com tamanha atenção. Mas Remus não podia controlar sua própria respiração descompassada, o cenho franzido, e até mesmo a vontade de morder os lábios. Durante o cio, só conseguia pensar em você. Pensar em tomá-la nos braços, fazê-la dele finalmente, afundar-se e deliciar-se em seu interior provavelmente quente, molhado, e apertado. Uivava seu nome, implorava por você. A fértil mente perturbada pelo prazer imaginava você naqueles momentos calorosos. Talvez os efeitos colaterais do cio demorassem um pouco a passar.

Balança a cabeça negativamente, afim de espantar os pensamentos que o inconsciente impunha. Estranhando, você se levanta, se põem em sua frente, o tronco abaixado para visualizar melhor. A visão de Remus também melhora, uma vez que abaixada, sua blusa mostra mais de seu colo, aquele que Lupin mesmo sem querer, vê com amplidão.

Arregala os olhinhos cor de mel, e ao te olhar com pânico, se deita na cama rapidamente com os olhos fechados.

"Desculpa, desculpa, desculpa." ele diz, e você, finalmente entende o motivo dos perdões, e dele estar deitado com as mãos no rosto, tapando a vermelhidão das bochechas. Ajeita a própria camisa, e se deita ao lado de seu namorado, sorrindo fraco, achando graça da situação, mesmo que enrubrescida.

"Acho que isso é normal. Estamos juntos a um tempo, e... Uma hora vai acontecer, né? Deixa rolar, Remus. Está tudo bem." é você quem sorri. A voz calma, e o carinho nos cabelos do mais alto o acalmam, fazendo-o retirar as mãos da face, e te encarar sem graça. Se você soubesse que o pensamento de "acontecer" já passou um milhão de vezes pela cabeça dele...

"Deixar rolar. Tudo bem. Eu posso fazer isso." ele diz, sorrindo fraco, e tentando relaxar novamente, com você colocando alguns esparadrapos nos cortes dele, ainda deitados em sua cama.

Se ele fosse destemido como Sirius, talvez, já teria te dito seus segredos, e talvez não passariam por esta situação em específico. Mas se ele não fosse tímido, casto, e atrapalhado, ele não seria o seu Remus Lupin. Aquele que você amava com todo seu coração.

ainda nessa vibe diferente, acredito que sintam falta dos neos, mas tô gostando de explorar uma escrita diferente, isso não quer dizer que eu tenha deixado de escrever com eles, viu? aqui vai algo bem smut/soft soft com nosso aluado. ♡

[vannyqwea]

Escogí al Vaticano porque representa a la gente religiosa a nivel mundial (siento que en ese país debe haber un chingo de extremistas sinceramente, solo por esa percepción lo coloque en el vídeo xD)

De lo que estaban hablando / concepto de personalidad ♥️🇨🇱🇲🇽♥️.

Le cambié el corte de pelo al México por referencia al Pedrito en LH. Algo parecido a lo que hice con chile, solo que el Mullet viene del benjamín (LH chile2p).

También este bocetito, en dónde estoy haciéndole más ajustes a Pedrito y Manolito, esto tiene lore, jsjsjs porque Manuel era un palito, literalmente y con ojeras, hecho pichula, pero ese es un manu teniendo 18.

El contexto es en un futuro donde ya tienen consolidada una relación estable, Pedro ayudo mucho a Manu y lo alentó a hacer ejercicio más seguido, como también silenciosamente trata de que fume menos.

Manu es muy protector con Pedro, lo mima, es desagradable con todos menos con el, lo consiente de sobre manera xd, ayuda a tranquilizar a Pedrito cuando se trata de problemitas de salud mental, también trata de darle su espacio cuando es necesario, eso, pa Manu, Pedrito es como su wawita💕. No aplica el "nadie me ro'a la calma" porque si molestan mucho a Pedro, le da su arranque. (aunque este wn del Manu también los tenga pero en este contexto está un poco más estable que el Manuel anterior).

Dibujito antiguo de los primeros que hice cuando entre al fandom kajskajs.

[alainas-sims]

Consuelo’s Diary

We received family portraits from Oscar and Mercedes and Ramon and Esther and their children. Oscar and Mercedes’ oldest, Dolores, is almost Héctor’s age and looks quite like I did as a girl. They also have two younger children, Pedro and Esperanza. Mercedes has quite a talent for making dresses for the girls out of chicken feed sacks!

Ramon and Esther have the twins, Ruth and Judith, who look so alike that it’s hard to tell them apart, except Esther dresses Judy in pink and Ruthie in purple. Their youngest, Leonard, recently reached grade-school age. All their children look so much like their father!

I look at their families and then I look at mine, our little unconventional small family, with such fondness. But it hasn’t felt right just leaving Mamá by herself, so I invited her to move in with us. It was hard for her to sell the childhood home, where she’d spent many years with Father. But when I talk to Mamá, she assures me that she is very happy with the loving and large family she has built and all seven of her grandchildren. She feels she has finally completed her life’s goal.

[peacocksandquetzals]

The Quetzal: The Sacred Bird of Mesoamerica (and also a Symbol of Freedom)

The quetzal is a bird native to southern Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Panama. One particular subspecies of quetzal is known as the resplendent quetzal (Pharomacrus mocinno). It is larger than other subspecies of quetzals and is only found in the highly-elevated rainforests of Central America, known as cloud forests or montane rainforests. Moss covers the trunks of many of the trees in the cloud forests. There are many fruit-bearing trees that produce wild avocados, a staple of the quetzal’s diet.

Quetzals have iridescent bluish-green feathers on most of their body and red breast feathers. The shiny, green feathers help quetzals blend in with the leaves of trees in the rainforest. The species exhibits a striking example of sexual dimorphism, which is a difference between the appearance of males and females in a species. Female quetzals have grey breast feathers and short tail feathers. Their colours are less vibrant. They also do not have a crest, or a crown of feathers, on their heads like males do. Finally, male quetzals have bright, yellow beaks while females have black ones. Quetzals are most famous for the long, streamer-like tail feathers of the male quetzals. These can grow to be a metre long, more than twice the length of the bird’s body.

These beautiful tail feathers have long captured the artistic imagination of the cultures of Mesoamerica, who collected them to make headdresses for their rulers. Quetzals were revered as sacred. They appeared in the art and mythology of the Mayans and Aztecs. They became an important cultural symbol for all the people of Mesoamerica, both past and present.

To Mesoamerican cultures, the quetzal is associated with gods and rulers. Its feathers are valued more than gold. But the most important thing the quetzal represents is freedom and the continuity of Mesoamerican cultures. The bird dies in captivity. The Mayans and Aztecs knew this and never attempted to domesticate the bird, believing that it would rather attempt to kill itself than live confined. Modern zoologists have attempted to keep quetzals in captivity to breed them. Though it may be able to survive for a while and even reproduce, the quetzal shows poor mental and physical health in captivity. They are a shell of what they once were when they are confined. To the K’iche’ Maya of Guatemala, the quetzal is a symbol of their identity and their struggles to be free from their Spanish colonial oppressors. One of the most famous historical figures of the K’iche’ was Tecun Uman, their last ruler. He died in battle against the Spaniards in 1524. His spirit guide was a quetzal. The story of Tecun Uman firmly establishes the quetzal as a beloved cultural symbol for the K’iche’ and a symbol of freedom.

Tecun Uman fought bravely against the Spaniards, who were led by the conquistador Pedro de Alvarado. The town where the battle took place is now known as Quetzaltenango in Guatemala. Pedro de Alvarado was aided by Hernan Cortes, the conquistador who defeated the Aztec empire. It is difficult for historians to separate the legendary and historical elements of this story. Though Tecun Uman and the conquistadors were real people, the lore surrounding Tecun Uman’s quetzal seems more legendary. The faithful quetzal is said to have accompanied Tecun Uman in battle and flown alongside him when he charged against the Spaniards. Pedro de Alvarado killed Tecun Uman with a spear through his chest. When the K’iche’ ruler lay dying, the quetzal was so filled with grief that it landed on Tecun Uman’s chest, staining its feathers red with blood. This Mayan story is also used to explain how the quetzal got its red breast feathers. The quetzal was a spirit guide, so its life force was connected to Tecun Uman and died shortly after he died. Tecun Uman is now considered Guatemala’s national hero. He is honoured every year on February 20th. In the town of Quetzaltenango, there is a statue of Tecun Uman. He is also featured on stamps, coins and bank notes. 

The Maya people in Central America today still consider the quetzal to be one of their most important symbols. The unit of currency in Guatemala is called a quetzal, alluding to how quetzal feathers were traded as currency by the Aztecs and ancient Mayans. The flag of Guatemala has a quetzal on it. Though the Aztec empire was doomed when Spanish conquistadors arrived in 1519, the Maya were more difficult to conquer. One Maya kingdom, Itza, and its capital city of Nojpetén, did not fall until 1697. Even under Spanish rule, the various Maya peoples of the region fought to preserve their culture and traditions. Just like the quetzal, they could not be subjugated for long and they had to be free. The quetzal is not just a beautiful bird to them, it’s a symbol of their freedom. 

[felipeandletizia]

Princess Leonor will take her oath of allegiance to the Constitution on October 31st and will celebrate her 18th birthday with the whole family

The heir to the throne is currently at the General Military Academy of Zaragoza

On October 31, Princess Leonor will turn 18 and in recent weeks the question has arisen as to whether her oath of the Constitution would take place on that same day or whether another date would be given.

It has been confirmed by Casa Real that, on the same day of her 18th birthday, the Princess of Asturias will take this important step in a solemn session held by the Cortes Generales. The details of the event have been finalized after the meeting held this Thursday at the initiative of the president of Congress, Francina Armengol; with the presence of the president of the Senate, Pedro Rollán Ojeda; the Government and the Royal House.

After the event, which takes place in the Congress of Deputies, an organization located in the central San Jerónimo street in Madrid, it is planned that at the Royal Palace Princess Leonor will receive the Collar of the Order of Carlos III in the presence of the powers of he state. The royal Spanish order of Carlos III was created by the aforementioned monarch in 1771 to reward those people who had stood out especially for their good actions for the benefit of Spain and the Crown.

Next, and also in this palace complex which is the largest in Western Europe and one of the largest in the world, a lunch will be held with a representation of the highest authorities of the State.

Private celebration

Aside from the institutional events, the eldest daughter of King Felipe and Queen Letizia will celebrate her 18th birthday privately. She will do so in an event at the El Pardo Palace, where she will meet both the Royal Family and the family of the King and Queen.

Although at the moment it has not been confirmed which members will attend, the presence of Infanta Sofía is expected on this important day for her sister. The youngest daughter of the head of state resides in Wales, where she studies in the International Baccalaureate at the UWC Atlantic College, but the school's calendar includes a break between October 27 and November 5, a break known as October break that allows her return to Madrid.

Source

[profesor-javaloyes]

En mi "molesta" opinión.-

"Lo lamento por los que esperaban más de mí y se sienten decepcionados. Yo llevo desde que nací esperando más de mí y no me pongo dramático" (Caótico Alberto, filósofo hogareño)

La Farsa del Renunciante Inamovible y... sus lágrimas de cocodrilo.

Queridos niños, en el oscuro teatro de la política, a menudo nos encontramos con actores que interpretan un papel tan convincentemente melodramático que es difícil distinguir la verdad de la mentira. Uno de estos protagonistas es Pedro Sánchez Pérez-Castejón, actual presidente del Consejo de Ministros de España. Un ser caracterizado desde su llegada al Gobierno por la habilidad para manipular las emociones y expectativas de la audiencia. Un individuo que aparenta considerar la renuncia a su cargo de presidente del Gobierno, pero cuya verdadera intención es animar mediante el victimismo a que "el pueblo" le implore que se quede.

Este personaje, hábil en las artes del engaño y la manipulación, juega con las tensiones y ansiedades de la opinión pública. Con astucia maquiavélica, teje una narrativa en la que simula una crisis interna y una imaginaria reflexión sobre su supuesta salida del poder. Sin embargo, detrás de esta fachada de dudas, hartazgo y vacilaciones, late un deseo ardiente de ser exaltado y suplicado para permanecer en el pedestal del poder.

Su estrategia es sutil pero efectiva. A través de filtraciones calculadas a los medios de comunicación afines, siembra la semilla de la incertidumbre mediante la puesta en escena de un drama familiar insoportable. De tal modo genera un debate frenético entre sus seguidores y detractores, alimentando la expectativa de un posible fin a su mandato. Mientras tanto, en la sombra, maquina el momento preciso para revelar su verdadera intención y así desatar una ola de súplicas y ruegos desesperados por retenerlo en el cargo.

Esta pantomima de renuncia es un acto de narcisismo político, un juego perverso en el que el líder (supremo) ambiciona no solo el poder en sí mismo, sino el reconocimiento y la adoración incondicional de sus seguidores. Se regodea en la atención y la adulación, disfrutando del espectáculo de sumisión y obediencia que se despliega alrededor de su augusta figura.

En este escenario de teatro político, la renuncia es solo un disfraz, una máscara momentánea que revela la verdadera naturaleza del actor: un ser egocéntrico sediento de poder y gloria. Su supuesta humildad es solo un ardid para avivar el fuego del culto a la personalidad y exaltar su figura como imprescindible y trascendental.

En última instancia, la farsa del renunciante inamovible revela las complejidades y contradicciones de la política contemporánea. Detrás de la pompa y la retórica, se esconde un drama humano de vanidad y manipulación. Y mientras el telón cae sobre este espectáculo perverso, queda la pregunta: ¿quién es el verdadero protagonista, el líder que aparenta renunciar o la audiencia que ruega que permanezca?

En conclusión pequeñas criaturas, la estratagema del renunciante inamovible es un reflejo irónico de los juegos de poder y las dinámicas de seducción en el ámbito político. Es un recordatorio de que, en el escenario de la política, las apariencias engañan y las máscaras ocultan múltiples facetas de la verdad. Y mientras el espectáculo continúe, el público seguirá cautivo ante la danza hipnótica de un líder dispuesto a todo por conservar su trono.

"La jauría derechista y ultraderechista actúa como un acosador: primero te acosa a ti y a tu familia y, cuando lo denuncias, te agrede más y se presenta como víctima." (Félix "Fake" Bolaños, ministro de la Presidencia, Justicia y Relaciones con las Cortes del Gobierno de España desde 2023)

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Isabel of Castile, First Duchess of York

Isabel was the third of four children of King Pedro I, also known as Pedro the Cruel, who ruled the Crown of Castile from 1350. Her mother was the vivacious and intelligent Maria de Padilla, often described as Pedro's mistress. In 1361, when Isabel was only six, her mother died. The following year, Pedro declared that he and Maria had been lawfully married before he was forced to espouse his estranged French wife, Blanche of Bourbon, who was by then also dead, some said murdered by her husband. His claim of an earlier marriage was subsequently endorsed by the Cortes, thus legitimising Pedro's children by Maria. Pedro was killed by his illegitimate half-brother and deadly enemy Enrique of Trastámara in March 1369. Trastámara became King Enrique II of Castile.

Isabel accompanied her elder sister Constanza to England, and married Edmund of Langley, son of Edward III and Philippa of Hainault, in 1472 at Wallingford, as part of a dynastic alliance in furtherance of the Plantagenet claim to the crown of Castile. Isabel was only 16 or 17 to Edmund’s 31, and brought him no lands or income or even the promise of such because her sister Constanza – who married Edmund’s elder brother John of Gaunt as his second wife – was their father’s heir. John and Constanza spent many years trying unsuccessfully to claim her late father’s throne from her illegitimate half-uncle Enrique of Trastamara, while Edmund and Isabel were required to give up any claims to the kingdom of Castile and were not compensated.

As a result of her marriage, Isabel became the first of a total of eleven women who became Duchess of York. She was appointed a Lady of the Garter in 1379. In their twenty years of marriage, the Duke and Duchess of York had three children:

Edward of Norwich, Duke of York

Constance

Richard of Conisburgh, Earl of Cambridge

Contemporary sources suggest that Edmund and Isabel were an ill-matched pair and their relationship was a rocky one, with Isabel accused of having an affair with John Holland, Duke of Exeter and half-brother to Richard II. The affair is believed to have started as early as 1374 and likely continued for a decade. As a result of her indiscretions, Isabel left behind a tarnished reputation. The chronicler Thomas Walsingham considered her to have somewhat loose morals.

John Holland has also been suggested as the real father of Isabel’s youngest son, Richard of Conisburgh, who was the grandfather of Edward IV and Richard III. The fact that his father Edmund of Langley and brother Edward, both, left him out of their wills has fuelled this theory. However, leaving a son out of your will was not entirely unusual, and Richard had died when his brother made his will.

Isabel of Castile died in December 1392 at the age of about 37 and was buried at Langley Priory in Hertfordshire. In her will, Isabel left items and gifts of money to close relatives by blood or marriage, and to numerous servants of hers, men and women. Isabel referred to Edmund of Langley as her "very honoured lord and husband of York", and left him all her horses, all her beds including the cushions, bedspreads, canopies and everything else that went with them, her best brooch, her best gold cup, and her "large primer". Isabel named King Richard II as her heir, requesting him to grant her younger son, Richard, an annuity of 500 marks. Isabel left nothing at all to her older sister Constanza, duchess of Lancaster, and failed even to mention her. Isabel doesn't forget John Holland in her will, at this time married to Elizabeth of Lancaster, John of Gaunt's daughter.

About 11 months later her widower married Joan Holland, niece of Isabel's supposed lover, John Holland. In another bizarre family twist, it was Joan’s brother, Edmund Holland, Earl of Kent, who had an affair – and an illegitimate daughter – with Constance of York, the daughter of Edmund and Isabel. In Edmund’s own will of 1400 he requested burial ‘near my beloved Isabele, formerly my consort.’  Despite Isabel of Castile's bad reputation and supposedly having been involved in a court scandal that humiliated her husband, Edmund seems to have felt great affection for her as demonstrated by his willingness to rest eternally with Isabel and not with his second wife.

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