#learn spanish guatemala.

[ghjngj]

Living with a Guatemalan family helps to master Spanish.

“Living with a Guatemalan family has helped me to understand the culture of the Spanish language”, said Jasmine Arevalo, student from Whitworth University, Spokane WA. Now, she feels more secure speaking Spanish with local people. Jasmine was part of the university study abroad Spanish program in Central America. www.cx.edu.gt was the language school where the students received Spanish classes training. www.casaxelaju.com

https://fb.watch/qlI-Dc2aNn/

[docholligay]

Do you speak with a straight up peninsular accent? I can only imagine the ribbing you would take in the spanish-speaking communities here ahaha, most everyone, including me, has a ~vaguely~ Mexican accent. When I got out of high school, my teacher for the last 6 years was Argentinian, and I took SO MUCH SHIT from my professors in college for the accent. I mostly got rid of it and speak what’s more normal around here, but if I’m talking really fast or I’m drunk sometimes I’ll slip back into parts of it and the FLAMING SHALL COMMENCE. 

ahahah, this is essentially how I learned the word at all! I was in a Mexican grocery here years ago and picked something up like, “The FUCK is this?” 

[casa-xelaju]

Study Mam in Guatemala

Aprenda Mam en Guatemala Laura Gonzalez, bibliotecaria en las escuelas publicas de Oakland, CA, comparte su experiencia estudiando el idioma maya Mam en Quetzaltenango, Guatemala. Ella trabaja con estudiantes de Todos Santos en el estado de California.Video www.casaxelaju.com www.cx.edu.gt

[conyersmooney]

Spanish inmersion program for educators in Quetzaltenago, Xela, Guatemala

View on YouTube at https://youtu.be/hdA8I7U8APw Savannah Pearson, a spanish teacher in Wisconsin, talks about her spanish inmersion program experience in Quetzaltenango, xela, Guatemala. She studied at https://casaxelaju.com/ for thee weeks in the summer of 2022. During these weeks, she lived with a guatemala  family, visited schools, hiked volcanoes and participated in cultural and social activities.

[max1461]

Once again I am pissed that most of the Maya manuscripts are gone. So tantalizingly close to getting a look at a culture that developed genuinely in the absence of influence from Old World civilization. A fully independent data point on the development of literary culture—the kind that we know wrote philosophy, history, mathematics! And yet we barely have any of it. Can you imagine how much we might learn about humanity, about cultural universals and cultural particularities, about the history of Mesoamerica, from being able to read that work and compare it to what we know?

But it's gone. It's gone because the Spanish burned it and made learning the Maya script illegal. And it's gone because codices rot in the tropical heat and humidity, so unless you've got a continuous scribal tradition it's all going to disappear. We can't even read Maya cursive; we know there was Maya cursive, and it's likely what most codices were composed in, but it's almost all gone!

And of course this is worst for the remaining Maya themselves, who in addition to being deprived economically and legally by Spain and its colonial legacy, have been deprived of the dignity and respect that comes (for better or worse) from being part of a cultural tradition that produced great and widely respected works.

I just, you know, I just wish it wasn't gone!

But as I always say on this topic, a point of optimism: the jungles of southern Mexico and Guatemala are barely explored, they're dense and they almost certainly hide many things yet. Maybe, one day, some hidden cache will be discovered, a scribal workshop collapsed perfectly to protect the codices within from the damp. We can only hope.

[handweavers]

have applied to textile artist residencies in mexico and guatemala so i've started learning spanish again. i'm never beating the latine allegations

[official-linguistics-post]

hi! i've recently gotten interested in linguistics (i watched a vsauce video and got sucked into a rabbit hole lmao) and i had a question about bilingualism- if you know 2+ languages, can you only call one language your mother tongue?

e.g. i grew up speaking both english and hindi at home, and am equally comfortable with both but whenever someone asks me what my first language is, i blank.

i'm very much not an expert on this, either academically or experientially, but there's no reason you should have to designate only one as a "first language" or "mother tongue" (outside of paperwork, i guess).

this is a complicated topic and very politically driven because of the role of language in colonialism! a "first language" seems very straightforward. it's the first language you learned, right? but that gets squirrelly in cases like yours, where you learn multiple languages simultaneously.

it's even more complex when you get to the concept of "mother tongue." that could just be your first language(s), but many people who learn their heritage languages later in life—especially languages that have been intentionally repressed—feel that it is more important to claim that cultural connection than to be strictly accurate about learning order. speakers of mayan languages in guatemala, for example, may claim one of those as their "mother tongue" even if they had to learn spanish as a first language for reasons of political violence.

it can get really messy really fast depending on the context of the question. in the end, though, how you label your languages comes down to personal choice, so you're perfectly allowed to call both english and hindi your first language!

[deceasedream69]

Español

Summary: the team never realized you speak spanish, so when they do Spencer takes it as an opportunity to practice with you, which you find absolutely adorable.

Just a little blurb, enjoy.

________________________________________________________

-" So, Guatemala, huh?", Derek sat across from me, a cup of coffee freshly made on his hand.

-"yep, pride in my stinky little country", I said lifting my fist. "Is there any coffee left?"

He nodded and I got up to grab some.

-"I've seen pictures from there, it's really beautiful", JJ said.

-"well, it's not visually bad, but, you know, 3rd world country"

-"so you speak spanish?"

I nodded at Spencer's question.

-"I've been learning for a while but I've never had a chance to actually practice with someone"

-"¿cuál es tu nombre?", I sat in front of him, waiting for my coffee to get a little cold.

He blinked a couple of times, his mouth moving slightly, trying to think of the answer before actually saying it.

-"yo me llamo y/n"

-"yo me llamo Spencer", he smiled.

I smiled at how cute he sounded in Spanish.

-"muy bien, soon you'll be calling me "cara mía", I winked drinking from my cup.

-"solo si me llamas "mon cher" back". I laughed and we continued speaking spanish for the rest of the flight. Well, more like spanglish but yeah.

I ended sitting next to him, just speaking about any random subject we could think of. It was wonderful how easy it was for us to just get lost in a conversation with each other and I loved how much attention I got from him and I think vice versa.

We still speak spanish sometimes, mostly when we want to make fun of Derek. I taught him every bad word in spanish I know and he taught me cool facts he knew about spanish, the language, the worlds that speak it and stuff like that.

the end

[wonhosmistress]

J. Wooyoung (Latino-Coded)

Jung Wooyoung x Latin(e)afab!reader / fluff

A/N: (I wish I had this idea during Hispanic Heritage Month it would've been nice to have posted this during that time but yeah I felt like writing Latino-coded Wooyoung 🤭)

Don’t mind me adding Mexican icons for this pretend their are your countries, I did a self-insert because I’m Mexican pls don’t take it to heart

Wooyoung the boyfriend that will always get up and dance with you whenever one of your favorite artist(s) comes up on a playlist and while he won’t exactly know how to dance said song he will be a lil’ goof and just go along with your steps. Even if it just means dancing around like a silly little goofball which only means he’s having fun.

Wooyoung the boyfriend who’d be willing to try new foods from your native home be it, (Mexico, Guatemala, Costa Rica, Colombia, etc) and give your favorite foods a taste. When he ends up liking it, he steals your plate rather than eating what he ordered.

Wooyoung the boyfriend you’d invite to a club with friends and the type who’d pull you towards him to dance with you be it silly dancing or following your lead to teach him your moves.

Wooyoung the boyfriend who would put in the effort whenever you’d taught him simple words such as “hi”, “nice to meet you.”, or even “you look sexy” in your native language because he wanted to improve his Spanish it to just learn a new language, talk dirty to you, and impress your friends/family with his Spanish. You’d always giggle whenever he said certain words with Korean pronunciation because Korean and Spanish were a bit similar if you really thought about it.

Wooyoung the boyfriend that doesn’t mind assisting you in the kitchen not because he wants to help but rather steal pieces of cooked meat you made for y’all to eat at for lunch. Which only ends up in him asking questions like, “what’s that?”, “that looks odd.”, “what does that do to the food?” And while you appreciate him wanting to learn, you just want him to stop questioning you and the ingredients only to have him kicked out the kitchen.

[virtie333]

Paint It Black

Yovanna is starting a new life in Australia, but she would be happier if the man who helped her get there could share that life with her.

My first Triple Frontier fic, written in honor of the Netflix movie's 5th anniversary. It's just a simple love story, what I would have wished to see happen for Santiago and Yovanna.

@triplefrontier-anniversary

Rated NC-17 for Explicit Sexual Content (18+ Only!): Includes protected P in V and mirror sex.

Cross-posted on AO3

5.6k words (sorry, not sorry!)

Inspired by this gifset!

“Katia?”

It took almost two full seconds for Yovanna to respond to the teenage girl behind the counter; she was still not used to that name. Katia Hernàndez was who she was now, but despite living with that name for the last six months, she still had a hard time remembering to respond to it. She wondered if she would ever find it easy.

She turned toward the front of the delicatessen, where sixteen-year-old Maggie was looking at her expectantly, a plastic bag on the counter in front of her. The girl smiled when Yovanna looked her way, and Yovanna smiled back.

“Sorry, I was distracted.”

Maggie giggled. “Yeah, my mind likes to wander a lot, too.”

Yovanna walked over to the counter to take the bag with her purchases. “Gracias,” she told the girl.

“De nada,” Maggie responded. “Is that right?”

Yovanna smiled. “Si, that’s one way to say ‘thank you’.”

A woman came up behind Maggie, grinning. “You know, she had no interest in learning a foreign language until you started shopping here,” Lauren said. Blonde like her daughter, Lauren Oggelby owned and operated Oggelby Deli, one of the few delicatessens in Kiama, New South Wales. Seeing as it was just down the street from the apartment Yovanna shared with her little brother Emiliano – Ezra now, she reminded herself – it was the only deli she had been to in this town. The straightforward friendliness of Lauren and Maggie made it feel comfortable and safe.

Safe was not something Yovanna was used to.

“I want to learn it so well I can have a full conversation with you in Spanish,” Maggie said, responding to her mother’s comment.

Yovanna nodded. “Well, from what I understand, it’s a lot easier to learn Spanish than English, so be glad you already know the hard one.”

Maggie laughed while Lauren nodded. “You speak it fluently,” she observed.

“My mother was raised in the United States,” Yovanna said, making sure she didn’t say where in the U.S. “I grew up speaking both Spanish and English.”

“I want to visit Guatemala someday,” Maggie said dreamily. “It sounds beautiful.”

Yovanna smiled again. “It is.” She shrugged. “I better get going. I’ll see you both later!” She didn’t dare speak any more about the country she was from, especially since it wasn’t Guatemala. The two women waved at her and said their goodbyes as Yovanna left the store. She slipped on her sunglasses and headed down the sidewalk, away from the beach which was only a quarter of a mile away to the east. She would probably end up there later today; she usually did. She loved the ocean, though she had rarely seen it before coming to Australia six months ago. She would be content to live next to the sea for the rest of her life.

She arrived at the gate to the small complex she lived in. At the moment, it was only temporary, as she hoped to find a nice house in the near future, but odds were good Emiliano would stay here. He had started on-line classes just a few weeks ago, and Yovanna knew he wanted to become more independent; they had been in each other’s pockets since they had arrived, and they were both ready to start living their own lives now that things seemed to be settled.

Kiama was a beautiful, quiet place, and Yovanna was ready to call it home.

Yovanna climbed to the second floor of the complex, then walked to the third door down. She unlocked it, then nearly ran into her brother as he was heading out. “Where are you off to?” she asked in Spanish.

“I’m going to Ted’s,” he told her in English. He was determined to fit in to his new home by rarely speaking his native language. He wanted to rid himself of any accent other than Australian. “Then I have a date with Margo tonight, so I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

Yovanna felt a tug of anxiety and tried to ignore it. Emiliano had been doing well since they had arrived to this new country with new names and forged documents. His short jaunt in jail in Colombia, and the terror of having been in the discotech in Tarapacà when it was raided and almost destroyed by police, had set him back on a safer course. Money was not an issue for them anymore, and drugs had fortunately not become an addiction before his arrest. Their arrest, actually. Only she had gotten away.

With the help of one of those ‘cops.’

“Well, have fun,” she responded, also in English. “But not too much fun. Make sure you use protection.”

She couldn’t help but smile as her little brother, who stood taller than her and was very much a mature young man, blushed. “I will,” he mumbled before heading past her out of the apartment.

Sighing, Yovanna took the bag into the kitchen and began to put away the meats and cheeses and spreads she had purchased, her mind drifting, as it often did, to the ‘cop’ who had helped her and her brother get here. She wondered where he was. What he was doing. Had he made it out of Colombia safely? Had he and his friends gotten all that money over the mountains? Was he now lazing on some beach somewhere, some beautiful blonde in a bikini feeding him cholados?

She shook her head, chastising herself. She needed to stop thinking about him. He most likely had forgotten about her. Hell, she didn’t even know his name!

She finished putting away her purchases and leaned back against the counter, remembering the last day she had seen him, when she and Emiliano had started their journey to Australia with three million dollars. She remembered the question his friend, another former soldier, had asked her. “After you had sex…” She scoffed. She wished that had been the case. For the almost thirteen months she had known ‘Consejero,’ he had never once done anything improper or propositioned her in any way. She had often wondered why, as other ‘officials’ she had known, American or otherwise, had never been shy about requesting sex in exchange for protection and secrecy.

And Lord knows if he had requested that of her, she would not have refused.

But he never did. Though there were times… no. She was fooling herself, thinking she had often read more in his gaze than was most likely there. That he cared about her. That he worried about her.

That he loved her.

She groaned out loud and pushed herself away from the counter, moving toward the refrigerator, intent on getting something cold to drink. Though the AC in the apartment worked wonderfully, thinking about Consejero always made her heat up. She needed to follow her brother’s example and find someone here. Goodness knows she had already been asked out by enough people since her arrival. It didn’t matter that she was always comparing them to him. And always found them lacking.

There was a sharp, sudden knock on the door and it made her jump. She shook her head at her own nervousness and moved toward the door, wondering if it was her brother. Maybe he had forgotten something. She unlocked the door and pulled it open, then stood in silent shock as she saw who was on the other side.

As if she had conjured him with her thoughts, Consejero himself was here.

XXXXX

Yovanna stared at the man standing outside her doorway, her eyes quickly assessing him, noticing the changes from the last time she had seen him. His hair was longer, the grey a little less pronounced in the thicker curls. He had the familiar 5-o’clock-shadow, but his face seemed narrower, his cheekbones more pronounced, as if he had lost weight. His broad shoulders also seemed sharper under his dark grey button down, and as her gaze trailed down his body to his khaki cargo pants, she realized he was indeed skinny. Too skinny.

She brought her eyes back up to meet his. Chocolate brown and as intense as always, this was something that hadn’t changed. She opened her mouth to speak, but the shock of his appearance kept her silent.

“Hello, Yovanna,” he said softly, his heavy brows low as he watched her carefully.

“Katia,” she said automatically in reply.

He huffed slightly and the corner of his mouth curled up. “Katia.” He took a deep breath, then shook his head. “If you want me to leave and pretend I never saw you-“

“No!” she interrupted him. She stepped back. “Come in, please?”

He did as she asked, walking past her toward her living room. His cologne, subtle and alluring, caught her attention. That also hadn’t changed, she thought as she closed her eyes and breathed deep. Delicious. She opened her eyes and closed the door, locking it immediately as she had become accustomed to. She turned and followed him into the living room.

He turned to face her, his expression uncertain. “Where’s Duke?”

She rolled her eyes at her brother’s nickname. “Ezra is with friends.”

“He’s doing well?”

She nodded. “Yes.” She paused, and when he didn’t continue, she rushed ahead. “What are you doing here?” She didn’t bother asking how he had found her; he had been the one to have the fake passports and documents made. He knew more about her new persona than she did. The question that she needed answered was why he was here.

He bit his lip, and she tried not to think about what that action did to her physically, then he met her eyes with his own. There was a strange desolation in them, a sadness she didn’t remember seeing in his eyes before. She had witnessed him angry and concerned, and she had seen those eyes light up with laughter, but never had she seen him like this.

“What happened?” she whispered, knowing it wasn’t good.

He gave a heavy sigh and moved to sit down on one of the stools that sat along the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Everything wrong,” he told her.

“You didn’t get the money out, did you?” she asked softly.

He shook his head. “Not much.”

“Did everyone make it?” she whispered, instinctively knowing that while losing all that money would be devastating, losing one of his friends would be worse.

His lips tightened and his eyes narrowed as he looked away from her, then he gave a sharp shake of his head. “Redfly didn’t,” he mumbled.

“Redfly?” she said. She hadn’t known the men he had brought to take down Lorea, but he had told her that she could trust them. That he trusted them with his life. And she had overheard them talking with each other. “He was the one that didn’t trust me, wasn’t he?”

He gave another sharp nod, then looked at her. “And I’m not going to deny how pleased I was to prove him wrong about you,” he said softly. “But he was off his game. We all were.”

“I’m sorry,” Yovanna said softly, and she meant it. While she might not have had a good experience with the man, he was still this man’s friend. And she cared about this man. Too much.

He shrugged. “What money we got out, we gave to his family,” he continued. “I’ve just been… wandering since. Can’t go back to Colombia. Can’t go back to the States.”

She nodded. “Diego and his men know your real name,” she said. And they had plenty of contacts in the States. She huffed a laugh. “So, you came to the one person you know who actually benefitted from your heist.”

He furrowed his brows for a moment, then his eyes widened as he realized what she was saying. “Oh, no! That’s not why I’m here,” he argued. “I may not be a millionaire, but I’ve still got plenty of my own money from investments keeping me afloat. I…”

She laughed at his defensiveness and moved to the refrigerator in the kitchen. Opening it, she pulled out a couple bottles of Schweppes lemonade and handed one to him. “It doesn’t matter,” she told him, trying to believe it herself. The idea that he had come for her and just her was too much to hope for. “It’s not like Emiliano… I mean Ezra and I are going to need all that money. It started out as yours, and you are welcome to a share.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s yours. I don’t care if you keep the majority in hiding or invest it or give it all away to charity, it’s yours.” His dark eyes were focused on her intently once more. “I came here because I missed you.”

Yovanna sat on the stool next to him, but couldn’t look at him. Instead, she focused on opening the bottle in her hand.

He continued. “I missed talking to you. I missed complaining about all those little things that annoy me to you, and getting your sympathy. You were the only person I really trusted in Tarapacà, dare I say my only friend there?” He paused, waiting for her to look at him. “I missed your smile. Your laugh. The way you glared at me when I teased you.”

She finally looked at him, searching his face, but she saw no duplicity there. Despite their official relationship, she believed he had never lied to her. And she had never lied to him, which is why he had been so angry with her after the discotech raid. “I wasn’t like any of your other informants, was I?” she asked, and she couldn’t help the bit of sarcasm in her voice.

Either he didn’t pick up on it or he chose to ignore it. “No, you weren’t. And you were my only one in the end. The only one I trusted.”

Yovanna took a sip of her drink, then shook her head again. “I always wondered why you treated me different,” she told him. “Carmen and Lucia had much different relations with you.” Carmen was one of the secretaries in the office she had worked at, the one where most of Lorea’s money was funneled through. And Lucia was her friend who worked as a housekeeper for several of Lorea’s men in Tarapacà. It was through them that this man had found her, a lowly accountant, who knew far more about the coming and going of all that dirty money than most of her coworkers.

He seemed to pull back at her words, knowing now what she was getting at. Carmen and Lucia had both commented more than once that he ‘paid them well,’ both in and out of bed.

He watched her silently for a long moment. “You’re wondering why I didn’t fuck you, aren’t you?”

She felt her face heat, which was crazy. Yovanna wasn’t an innocent, though it had been a very long time since she had been in a relationship with a man. Since before she met this one, in fact. She tried to shake her head to deny his question, but she couldn’t.

“There’s two very good reasons why I never asked you for that kind of arrangement,” he told her, his voice hardening. “One was that I knew you weren’t that kind of woman. Lucia and Carmen both used sex to control the men in their lives on a regular basis. It was an exchange as easy as money to them. I knew you were different.” He took a deep breath. “And two… I knew I could love you.”

Yovanna’s eyes shot up to his face. Had she heard him right? Had he actually used the word love? She was literally speechless at his comment, but as she searched his face, she once more found no evidence of deceit. If anything, he looked nervous, as if he wasn’t sure he should have admitted something so dangerous.

When her silence continued, he grimaced and nodded. Setting the unopened bottle of lemonade on the counter, he stood. “I just wanted to be sure you and your brother were doing okay. It looks like you found a perfect home, and I hope you are happy here. I don’t want to upset that peace. Goodbye, Yovanna.” He paused and smiled slightly. “I mean Katia.” He nodded and turned toward her door.

“I don’t even know your name,” she said, hating how desperate her voice sounded.

He stopped and turned back as he reached the door. “Santiago,” he told her. “Santiago Garcia.”

She slid off the stool and walked quickly toward him. “Don’t go, Santiago. Please, don’t leave.”

“Give me a reason to stay,” he responded, his voice rough.

She reached for his hand, taking it in both of hers and rubbing his calloused palm gently. She brought it up to her mouth and kissed his rough knuckles, then looked him in the eye. Slowly, deliberately, she turned and tugged on his hand, coaxing him to follow her to her bedroom.

He didn’t resist.

XXXXX

Santiago.

The name rolled around in her head like the lyrics to a favorite song. Santiago. It was perfect for him. It was strong and masculine, but caring and empathetic, like the stories of the saints she learned as a child. Santiago.

As soon as the door to her bedroom closed behind them, he had her pinned to the wall, her arms up with their fingers entwined, his mouth on hers. She reciprocated by writhing against him, meeting his tongue with her own in a sensuous dance. As his lips dropped to her neck, she pulled her hands free, reaching down to work on the buttons of his shirt. He responded by grabbing the hem of her t-shirt and pulling it up and over her head. She stepped away from him a bit so she could toe off her shoes and he moved to sit on the corner of her bed so he could remove his boots.

She followed him there, bending over to work on his shirt once more. He tried kissing her while they both worked, missing her mouth and connecting with her cheek or her ear over and over again until she was giggling. When she looked at him, the crow’s feet around his eyes grew as his smile widened. The darkness in his eyes had faded.

She straightened and reached behind her for the clasp of her bra, slowly letting it slide down her arms. His eyes became intense once more as he watched her, slowly taking off his now unbuttoned shirt. As he focused on her bare breasts, she ran her eyes over his chest. While he had indeed lost weight in the last few months, he was still beautiful. Muscled without looking like a body builder, his copper skin tantalizing. His chest was hairless, but the trail of hair that began under his navel and disappeared under his waistband was alluring.

“Wait!” he said suddenly, and she brought her eyes up to meet his. “I seriously wasn’t expecting this,” he told her with a slight shake of his head, his eyes huge. “I don’t have protection.”

Yovanna smiled slightly and walked over to the dresser next to the bed. She opened the top drawer and pulled out an unopened box of condoms, then brought them back to Santiago. “I bought them for my brother, but he assured me he had his own.” She tossed the box onto the bed next to him.

He looked at them, then looked at her, and the excitement she saw in his eyes sent a shot of electricity through her. He began to unbuckle his belt, and she started to work on the fly of her lightweight trousers, quickly sliding them off as he stood and removed his, boxers and all. He stepped into her before she could get a good look at his impressive erection, wrapping his arms tight around her and finding her mouth with his own once more. She let herself sink into his kiss, feeling her whole body shiver at the feel of his naked skin against hers.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her hands sweep along his shoulders and the back of his neck. Her fingers found the scar there, and she gently massaged the area. She knew he had gotten surgery on his neck only a few months before the heist had taken place; he had returned home to the States for it, and she had missed him while he had been gone. His mouth once more dropped down to her neck, but then she felt him still. She pulled back slightly to look at him, and realized he was looking behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see what had caught his attention away from her.

It was their own reflection in the floor length mirror on her closet door. She felt her heart start to race as she watched his hands smooth down her naked back, cupping her almost-bare bottom; she was still wearing a pair of teal-colored panties.

Suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders and turned her around with a growl deep in his throat. As she faced their reflection, she caught sight of his cock, which looked even more massive than before now that he was fully aroused, and then she felt it pressed against the upper curve of her buttocks. His arms came around her once more, one hand cupping her breast and squeezing it lightly, the other dropping down between her legs, his fingers delving into her panties to burrow into her wet heat. She cried out, both the feel of him and the sight of them in the mirror shooting her arousal into orbit.

“So fucking wet,” he murmured roughly against her neck, his fingers playing with her sensitive folds. “So fucking wet for me.”

His words made her whimper, and she rocked her hips against his touch.

“Look at me!” His words were harsh and made her jump. She hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes. She opened them to look at him in the mirror, making eye contact through their reflection. “Tell me you want this!” he demanded. “Tell me now or I walk out of here.”

And he would, she knew. He would stop if she didn’t give him the okay. This man, a trained killer, would leave her alone if she asked, even as fully aroused as he was right now. Holding his powerful gaze, she nodded. “I want this.”

He brought his hand out from between her legs and plucked at her panties. “Off!” he told her as he backed toward the bed, grabbing the box she had put there and ripping it open. She slid her panties off as he removed a condom, preparing it and sliding it on. She had turned to watch him and didn’t hide that fact. ¡Dios mío! He was thick! She felt her pussy weep even more fluid at the thought of him inside of her. He finished and stepped toward her again. Briefly he made eye contact once more before grasping her shoulders and turning her away from him again. He pushed her forward gently, toward the mirror.

She realized what he was doing and she began to pant in excitement. When she was close, she leaned forward, her hands on the mirror. She looked up to see him move behind her and grasp her hip with one hand. She felt his cock come up between her legs, but he didn’t push in. Instead, he used his other hand to run it all over her dripping pussy, covering the condom with her juices. She moaned at the sensation, her hips moving counter to his actions. “¡Dios!” she cried, feeling an orgasm already threatening.

“Hermosa?” His throaty gasp caught her attention, and she looked up again, meeting his questioning gaze in the mirror.

She nodded quickly. “¡Ahora!”

Without any resistance, he slid into her. She cried out, smiling at the absolute pleasure his invasion brought her. “Yes!” she cried out in English.

“Fuck!” he responded. “You’re so tight! Please, tell me I’m not hurting you!” His voice was desperate.

“Santiago,” she said, her voice breathy as she continued to pant. “Santiago, please, fuck me!”

And he did, his hips immediately thrusting into her at a steady and solid pace. She dropped her head, unable to keep on watching their reflection in front of her, her sole focus on the feelings his body was creating in hers. She was so full, but she wanted more. She pushed back into him, encouraging him without words to move faster. He responded by quickening his pace, but he grumbled at her as he did so. “I’m trying to take this slow, Querida.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his words. “I don’t want slow. We can go slow next time!”

“Fuck, yeah!” he said, his grip on her hips tightening. “Next time!” He began to pound into her harshly, and she laughed again in pure joy. Yes!!!!

“Oh, Dios!” she cried. She was almost there!

Suddenly, he dropped one of his hands down, reaching around in front of her to tease her clit. “Come on my fucking cock!” he hissed in her ear.

His touch combined with his words sent her over the edge and she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her body convulse, her pussy squeezing him tight, her legs tremoring. She saw stars. Or maybe they were fireflies. She wasn’t sure and she really didn’t care. She was crying, tears of ecstasy rolling down her cheeks. Her legs began to give out and Santiago moved his arm up to wrap around her waist, holding her tight against him.

When she was able to focus again, she realized he wasn’t moving. His cock was still buried deep inside her, but he was simply holding her. She looked up at him in the mirror, afraid and embarrassed of her reaction. He was smiling softly at her, his eyes wide and almost black with passion and… dare she think it? Love?

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispered.

She gathered her strength and straightened her legs, standing on her own again. His grip loosened, then he let her go completely and backed away, sliding out of her.

“No!” she couldn’t help but gasp. He wasn’t done. Just because she had had the most amazing orgasm of her life didn’t mean they were done!

His smile got bigger as he took her hand and led her toward the bed.

He sat on it and pushed himself back, laying down with his head on her pillows. His smile had turned into a smirk. “Come on, Cariño. You know what I want you to do.”

Yovanna climbed onto the bed on her knees and shuffled over to him. She threw one leg over his hips and settled on his thighs, his still rock-hard cock in front of her, teasing her super sensitive clit. Taking a deep breath, she rose up on her knees and grabbed his cock, then carefully mounted him. She was still so wet, he slid in easily, and she closed her eyes as she absorbed the feeling of him filling her once again, this time touching places he hadn’t in their previous position.

“Oh, yeah,” he murmured. “Perfect.”

She opened her eyes to see him looking to where they were joined. She also looked down, rather amazed that she could take him all, then she looked back at him. He was watching her now, and as she made eye contact with him, he lifted his hands toward her, fingers outstretched, in invitation.

She accepted, meeting his hands with her own, palm to palm, fingers intertwined once more. She began to rock, back and forth, with her hips. She leaned down to kiss him, bringing their joined hands up to rest just above his head on the pillow. He moaned into her mouth, letting her take control this time around, and apparently loving it. Eventually, they let go of each other so they could take their time touching each other. Yovanna played with his hair, running her fingers through it as she had imagined doing so many times before. Santiago let his fingers toy with her breasts, thumbing her nipples, then massaging her curves. They never stopped kissing.

As her rocking became faster, his hands moved down her back to her buttocks, the tips of his finger straying down to where they were joined, then up to tease her asshole briefly, making her squeal in surprise. It hadn’t been uncomfortable, she realized, just nothing she had tried before. Interesting. She pushed herself up straight once more, using her strong thighs to push herself up and down on him now. He also sat up, diving in to lick and suck on first her breasts, then her neck. He found her pulse point and began to suck hard; she knew he was marking her and didn’t care. Her bouncing increased in speed and his grip on her ass tightened.

“Fuck, I can’t hold it anymore,” he groaned.

“Don’t!” she told him. “Let go! Come for me!”

She felt his hips raise up off the bed as he ejaculated, finally coming. Dios, his stamina was amazing! As he let himself fall back onto the bed, Yovanna felt her own body start to tremble once more. This orgasm wasn’t as strong as her first, but it was no less satisfying. Breathing hard, she let herself fall forward and a little to the side, letting him slide out of her. He winced, then sat up to take care of the condom, tossing it in the waste basket next to the dresser. Then he fell back onto the bed, looking at her, a soft smile on his face.

She scooted close to him, tentatively putting her head on his shoulder, not sure how he felt about post-coital cuddling, but his arm wrapped around her immediately and he began to kiss her hair. They lay like this for a long time, letting their breathing and their hearts come back to normal. Yovanna became sleepy, but her brain soon started working overtime, and she was wide awake once more.

“Where are you staying?” she asked him.

“A little bed and breakfast on the other side of town,” he told her.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” she said softly.

“For how long?”

She lifted her head to look at him. “For however long you want.”

“With you?”

She shrugged. “Well, for a while. I’m planning on buying a house of my own, soon, but Emi—I mean Ezra, will probably stay here. So,” she gave him a teasing smile. “You can be roommates with him, or you can come live with me.”

He snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d love if I stayed with him,” he said sarcastically.

“Then stay with me,” she told him, her voice soft but firm. “As long as you want.”

He was silent for a moment. “I know where the money is.”

She frowned at him.

He licked his lips. “Ironhead gave me the coordinates where we dumped it. In the mountains.” He was looking at her expectantly.

“How dangerous would it be to go back for it?” she asked carefully.

“Very,” he told her. “Not just because there are still people looking for it, but because the location it’s in is… treacherous.”

She bolstered herself for her next question. “And how much do you want it?”

He took a deep breath and pulled away from her. He slid off the bed and looked around until he found where his trousers had ended up, then he went over to them and pulled his wallet out from the back pocket. He opened it and took out a slip of paper. He dropped the pants and walked back over to where she was still lying on the bed, leaning on her elbow, her head propped on her hand as she watched him. He showed her the paper and she could see the coordinates on it. Then he reached for the long-stemmed lighter that sat on the dresser next to one of her scented candles. He lit it, then touched it to the paper, setting it on fire. He held onto it while most of it burned, then placed it on the candle, the remaining flame lighting the candle as it burned the last of the paper. He looked at her.

She gave him a half smile. “That’s a beautiful gesture,” she told him. “But do you really expect me to believe you don’t already have those numbers saved in your phone? Or even memorized in your head?”

He laughed. “Oh, come on! Let me have this dramatic moment!”

She laughed along with him, but soon he became serious once more.

“Give me a reason to not go back for that money,” he told her, the darkness from earlier appearing in his eyes once more.

She looked at him for a long moment. Then, in a trembling voice, she said, “I love you.”

His expression softened and his mouth opened as if he was stunned. He blinked rapidly, and Yovanna felt tears forming in her own eyes in response to his obvious emotion. He cleared his throat and bit his lower lip, but didn’t seem to know what to say. So, she sat up and continued.

“Stay here with me,” she told him. “Start a new life with me, away from pain and fear and anxiety.” She paused. “You’ve done more than enough, dealing with demons both real and in your mind. Let your body and your soul rest the way you deserve.” As his expression turned hopeful, she added, “Let me love you while we take care of each other.”

Slowly, he moved to lie next to her on the bed once more. “Forever?” he asked, his expression still full of such hope.

“Forever,” she told him.

“I love you, Yov—Katia,” he smiled softly as he corrected himself.

“And I love you, Santiago.”

“Yes, I’ll stay.”

Forever.

THE END

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 9 February 2007, Alejandro Finisterre, the anarchist poet and inventor of the Spanish version of table football (foosball) died in Zamora, Spain. He invented the game following injury during the Spanish civil war and revolution so injured children could still play football. Fleeing following the fascist victory, he ended up in Guatemala, where he played table football with Che Guevara. After the US-backed military coup in the country, he was kidnapped by Francisco Franco's agents and put on a plane to Madrid. However on board he went to the toilet, wrapped a bar of soap in newspaper and emerged shouting "I am a Spanish refugee" and threatening to blow up the plane. Supported by the crew and passengers, the plane landed and let him off in Panama. Learn more about the Spanish civil war in our podcast episodes 39-40. Available on every major podcast app or here on our website: https://workingclasshistory.com/2020/06/17/e39-the-spanish-civil-war-an-introduction/ https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/2205557866296018/?type=3

[ktgoodmorning]

Anyone have good resources or tips for learning Spanish? I was on Duolingo for awhile a few months ago but felt like it made me spend too much time on my phone.

I was just learning for fun but now I might be going to Guatemala for some things for school next year so I figure it might be good to start working on it again.

[tumbleweedbee]

(Hi! Sorry, I was with a friend and she sent the message while I was still writing as a joke-)

The ask is if you could write Quackity x reader where Quackity's boyfriend is guatemalan (you don't have to know a lot about Guatemala, maybe just Quackity being interested in the culture bcs is similar to mexican but also very different)

That's all, thank you!! Hope you have a great day :>

A/n:

Ofc!!I don’t know much about Guatemala (as I’m irish) but I tried 🙏

QUACKITYX M! GUATEMALAN READER

-You and Quackity met whilst you were on holidays with your friend-group travelling all around Mexico.Your group decided to go and head to a big video-game shop you had all heard of and found a bus to take you there, but due to your group being made up of 5 people, you had to sit by yourself, though you didn’t mind as it meant that you got to play video-games on the way there.

Unfortunately, your plans of solitude and smooth sailing were crashed both due to the fact that the roads were extremely bumpy and due to the fact that a handsome stranger has decided to sit beside you.

You tried to continue playing and eventually tried to ignore the man staring holes into your 3DS and you turn to look at him, “Do you need something?” You inquire, raising an eyebrow.

He looks panicked and quickly replies with “oh sorry!!I was just curious about what game you were playing..”

“It’s Majora’s mask, I only got it recently” you added, smiling at him.

-am hour later-

You had learned that the man’s name is Alexis-though he prefers to go by Alex,he’s the same age as you and has quite a lot in common with you.

You feel quite sad that you have to get off the bus with your friends now, but before you can leave he quickly places his hand on your arm and goes “Wait!!Whats your number, I was uh just wondering if you’d like to hang out sometime…maybe..?” He looked at you, nervous and expecting to be rejected.

“Of course!Here you go!” You answer, trying not to sound too excited that a handsome stranger had asked for your number.

As you left the bus with your friends, Alex began texting you immediately, hoping that it was the right number.

You quickly replied back to him and you both began to text for the rest of your trip.

He began to ask where you were from, what is it like living in Guatemala?did they make good stew over there?What type of traditions did they have over there?what were your countries sports?

Once you arrived home he begged to call you and of course-you answered.

“Hey you said you’ve a pc right?Do you wanna play minecraft with me on my server?”he then invited you to a server ‘huh…Q-S-M-P…that’s an odd name.’ You thought to yourself.

You realised that there were a lot of people online that spoke Spanish, so naturally, when they started to speak to you in Spanish, you spoke back, which surprised alex “wow you can speak Spanish??” He asked, hoping to not come across as sound dumb.

“Of course I can!!Wait why’s your username Quackery?” You asked, before bursting out laughing at the name. “It’s Quackity!!”you could basically hear his eyes roll dramatically.

This was the same day you found out that “Quackity” was the name of his YouTube and twitch channel, you had decided to check it out and were amazed at how famous he really was, he was practically a celebrity!!You had began to tune into some of his recent streams without telling him and it was bizarre to you to see the same group of geeks you had been joking with not two hours ago, (along with Alex of course) bring in hundreds of thousands of views by just being themselves online.

Day after day, week after week, you and Quackity got closer, until eventually he pulled up at your house one day with flowers. “WH-Alex what are you doing here??Why do you have flowers??!”

He blushed and then hesitantly asked “do you uh, y’know, um, wanna go out?” “Of course I do!!” He stared at you, both in bewilderment that you actually agreed and the fact that he knew that he just couldn’t look away from your pretty face.

“I didn’t actually think you’d be gay or anything..”you smiled softly at him, inviting him in and gently taking the flowers from him. “Well you guessed wrong!”you replied, your face as red as tilíns bow.

You both decided to go on a date at your local restaurant, Alex hasn’t actually planned this far ahead as he thought you’d simply reject him.

You both couldn’t stop flirting with eachother-ignoring the looks some of the elders gave you.

Once the date and he was, yet again, back on your doormat; he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissed you gently on the lips and waved goodbye.

-Later that night-

*Quackity is live:IMSOHAPPY*

You decided to click onto the stream out of curiousity.

“GUYS GUESS WHAT HAPPENED TODAY?!!!”

Part 2?

[glubby-guppiez]

*I MADE A TMNT AU [WIP]

*cw: typing quirk

*Oroku family info

*Basic synopsis

*Turtles are from a zoo in Guatemala

*The turtles are Central American Snapping Turtles

*They were stolen and mutated by Baxter Stockman

*Baxter Stockman is the main villain and the turtles work to stop him because he is too far gone and has hurt so many people and creatures in his quest for vast knowledge and is completely apathetic

*)(amato + Foot clan does not affect the story

*The turtles + Splinter lived in Guatemala until they met April and then they moved to New York to go after Stockman

*The turtles start off as regular mutant turtles, but early on during the events of the AU, get mutated further into dragons (friends idea)

*Character Info

*Shared info about the turtles

*Central American Snapping Turtles *All were originally named by the zoo *When they are mutated into dragons, their heights increased *The mutation process was very painful *Wings grew out of their backs and broke their shells at the top where the wings grew *Knows/speaks/writes in Spanish and English *Keeps their original weapons *Learned ninjitsu and self defense similarly to Mutant Mayhem and Bayverse via books and videos but also by watching humans at the dojo that is right above where they live

*Michelangelo

*)(e/)(im Cis male *5'11" (Pre-Dragon) *7'2" (Post-Dragon) *Very muscular build *Lost one of his right toes *Wears cheap gym shorts and an orange sweater around his shoulders that soon turns into his mask after he mutates into a dragon (tears off a sleeve) *Nunchaku on belt *Stickers on shell, including an anime sticker Raphael put on as a joke that won't come off *Old mask had the iconic Mikey short tails *Gay *The Leader *Optimist *Actually good at strategizing *Tries to stay energetic and joyful even when it's inappropriate *A little bit insensitive tbh *Not entirely on purpose he just doesn't understand why everyone isn't happy-go-lucky and constantly optimistic like he is *#1 Cheerleader *Tries to keep good relationships with his family *Very loving and supportive of them *Learning empathy is part of his character development *Mondo Gecko becomes a love interest for him later on

*Madonna (Donatello)

*She/)(er Transfem changed name *6'4" (Pre-Dragon) *7'6" (Post-Dragon) *Largest and most muscular turtle because of her Bo training and mechanical handling *Wears skirts and an apron with lots of storage, including a large tool belt *Steal's Raph's clothes even though they are small on her *Paint splats on shell *Braided mask tails *When everyone's masks broke because of the second mutation, she made everyone but Mikey new ones (Mikey immediately tore up his sweater and made a new mask) *Straight *Group inventor *Not very good at organizing her thoughts and explaining her inventions, and tech is always very messy and hard to follow *Personality is like Rise!Donnie but toned down *Doesn't really get mad but sulky *Very bad grammar *Often butts heads with 'Nardo *)(as a large bo collection and only uses her least favorites and never the ones she really likes unless she has to *Small crush on CJ in the beginning (purely one-sided and goes away after a while)

Leonardo

*)(e/)(im Cis male *5'8" (Pre-Dragon) *6'7" (Post-Dragon) *More scrawny and lanky than the rest of the group *Was effected the most by the second mutation out of the group appearance wise *Wears comfortable loose clothes like hoodies and sweatpants *Plain, long tail mask *Wore glasses before second mutation *)(as a dragon carved onto his lower shell (he begged asked Madonna to do it) *AroAce *Main intel of the group *Very observant *Non verbal and writes everything that comes to mind in these journals called: "Big Book of 'Nardo Thoughts" and hopes to publish them one day. *Thinks he should've been the leader *Geography nerd *Otaku

Raphael

*She/)(er Cis female *5'4" (Pre-Dragon) *7'4" (Post-Dragon) *Muscular but chubby build *Wears feminine clothing mainly jeans and crop tops but also skirts and dresses *Mask tied into a nice bow *Madonna put nail polish drawings on her shell *Paints hers and Mikey's nails *Lesbian *Sassy like 1987 Raphael *Very girly and feminine *Very protective of her family *Does have rage strength *A voice of wisdom/reason *Still kind of childish *)(angs out with Splinter a lot *Gets a girlfriend named Marilyn

Splinter

*)(e/)(im Cis male *5'6" *47 *Bushy-tailed Woodrat *Wears a dirty ass expensive silk bathrobe that he stole from a human that he WILL NOT take off *Raph likes to style his fur *Straight ally *Only knows Spanish *Reads a lot and taught the turtles how to read *Great cook *Mediocre dad *Was taken from his own parents at an early age so he has no clue how to parent outside of instinct and books *He's trying he goes to the PTA meetings he goes to them/ref *Brought home a whole bunch of girl books for Madonna when she came out to him *Praises Mikey for his optimism *Adores 'Nardo's writing *Wants a wife so bad

Baxter Stockman

*TW FOR MENTIONS OF ABUSE *)(e/)(im Cis Male *5'5" (Pre mutation) *6'4" (Post mutation) *56 *Black and Brazilian *Buzz cut (Pre mutation) *Skinny build (Pre mutation) *Becomes a fly mutant *Much more muscular post mutation *)(air grows out *Kind of looks like Super Fly *Wears stereotypical lab gear *Questioning AroAce *Very devoted to his work *Abused and neglected his wife (April's mom) and daughter (April O'Neil) *Made the turtles, Shredder, Splinter, and other mutants *Everyone )(ATES him *Rightfully so *)(e uses mech suits to fight like 2012 him in season 1 *CJ is his pupil early on *Kind of a bitch to CJ *Sadistic *This man gets very uncomfortable to be around after he's mutated *Like bro wanting disect and study every living thing he comes across after the mutation *Throws a fit when he's wrong about something *Has a deep desire to be all knowing

April O'Neil

*She/They/It Demigirl *5'8" *19 *Afro Latina *She has dark brown hair styled in afro puffs *Skinny but athletic build *Sports a black and yellow track suit with a white undershirt *Bisexual *Daughter of Baxter Stockman *Tech whiz *Madonna's best friend *Big sister figure to the turtles *Grew up in Guatemala and moved to New York with the turtles and Splinter shortly after meeting them *)(er dad's #1 hater *Fluent in Spanish *Knows English, but it's rough *Uses a gun *Dating Karai

Casey Jones (CJ)

*They/)(e/It Nonbinary (fine with gender neutral or masculine terms) *5'2" *17 *White *)(as that 2000's mid length emo boy haircut *Wears Jeans + Band tee and a lab coat *Main inspo from 2012 Casey design wise *Omniromantic (pref for men) Asexual *Kind of wimpy and doesn't fight *Mainly uses mousers and other robots *Stockman's pupil until he joins up with the turtles *Works alongside 'Nardo and Madonna *Genuinely scared of Mikey *Grew up in New York *Failed Art Class and will have to repeat highschool they are so salty about this it is not even *Geek loser *Main personality inspo from '87 and 2012 Stockman

*I will write about more characters later and more lore but rn this is all you get. If you wanna see specific characters or if you have any questions, feel free to ask me my ask box is open!

[transboysokka]

We know I love languages but one thing I think is so fucking fascinating about language LEARNING is how like, we know someone’s voice can change depending on what language they’re speaking and that could be tied to where that person was in life when they learned it (alongside other factors like the way sounds are physically produced etc) BUT the way languages can be tied to mental states and trauma??

When one of my brothers moved to the US when he was 5 he didn’t know ANY English but still within months had repressed ALL the Spanish he knew because it was tied to a ton of trauma and shit he never should have gone through growing up in Guatemala. When he tried to learn again in high school he was actually really bad at it because he didn’t want to open that part of his life back up. So he locked the language away with the experiences because he didn’t know better.

I also have a friend who was adopted from China who had a very similar experience

I’ve spoken Spanish since I was seven but I definitely used it most frequently in my university years which were Super Bad for me and even nowadays when I have any long conversation in Spanish it brings back all these weird depressed numb feelings from then that I really have no logical reason to be feeling in my current situation

idk where I was going with this but it’s wild stuff

[elskanellis]

Coffee

Matthew Dickman

The only precious thing I own, this little espresso cup. And in it a dark roast all the way from Honduras, Guatemala, Ethiopia where coffee was born in the 9th century getting goat herders high, spinning like dervishes, the white blooms cresting out of the evergreen plant, Ethiopia where I almost lived for a moment but then the rebels surrounded the Capital so I stayed home. I stayed home and drank coffee and listened to the radio and heard how they were getting along. I would walk down Everett Street, near the hospital where my older brother was bound to his white bed like a human mast, where he was getting his mind right and learning not to hurt himself. I would walk by and be afraid and smell the beans being roasted inside the garage of an old warehouse. It smelled like burnt toast! It was everywhere in the trees. I couldn't bear to see him. I sometimes never knew him. Sometimes he would call. He wanted us to sit across from each other, some coffee between us, sober. Coffee can taste like grapefruit or caramel, like tobacco, strawberry, cinnamon, the oils being pushed out of the grounds and floating to the top of a French Press, the expensive kind I get in the mail, the mailman with a pound of Sumatra under his arm, ringing my doorbell, waking me up from a night when all I had was tea and watched a movie about the Queen of England when Spain was hot for all her castles and all their ships, carved out of fine Spanish trees, went up in flames while back home Spaniards were growing potatoes and coffee was making its careful way along a giant whip from Africa to Europe where cafes would become famous and people would eventually sit with their cappuccinos, the baristas talking about the new war, a cup of sugar on the table, a curled piece of lemon rind. A beret on someone's head, a scarf around their neck. A bomb in a suitcase left beneath a small table. Right now I'm sitting near a hospital where psychotropics are being carried down the hall in a pink cup, where someone is lying there and he doesn't know who he is. I'm listening to the couple next to me talk about their cars. I have no idea how I got here. The world stops at the window while I take my little spoon and slowly swirl the cream around the lip of the cup. Once, I had a brother who used to sit and drink his coffee black, smoke his cigarettes and be quiet for a moment before his brain turned its Armadas against him, wanting to burn down his cities and villages, before grief became his capital with its one loyal flag and his face, perhaps only his beautiful left eye, shimmed on the surface of his Americano like a dark star.

©2008