#my dad speaks fluent Spanish yes I am projecting

[crushed-ice]

Fun fact!!

Grusha speaks many languages despite barely speaking! He only knows Paldean Sign Language, but he can read write and speak:

English (Second language, speaks it better than Spanish at this point)

Japanese (Same as English, like Japanese version and English version y'know?)

French (Partially)

Spanish (First language)

Italian (Of Italian descent, Grandmother taught him Italian)

Romanian (Got bored and learned it for fun)

Mandarin (reading and writing only)

Arabic (reading and writing only)

Alright lemme explain. Grusha gets lonely on Glaseado. After the Initial group of challengers face his gym, that's basically it. He spends a lot of time learning languages for fun, he is fascinated by language. He grew up speaking Spanish bc (in my lore) Paldea speaks half Spanish half English and Grusha just happened to be born into a Spanish speaking family. After his parents left, he lived with his grandma and nobody else. She spoke little Spanish and even less English, but spoke fluent Italian because she was an immigrant. Grusha learned English to communicate easier with the other kids in his class, as he had been enrolled in a school that by total coincidence had very few Spanish speakers. He grew up trilingual.

Speaking Italian around his grandma, Spanish around other Paldeans, and English at school. Sometimes he'll fully forget words in any of those three languages and use words from different ones (Ex. Speaking full English and then saying "triste" instead of sad mid-sentence only to return right back to English). He speaks English most fluently as he spent most of his childhood at school, and despite most of his family being Spanish it is his worst language out of the main three. His skills in order of fluency are as follows:

Paldean Sign Language

English/Japanese

Italian

Spanish

Romanian

French

Mandarin

Arabic

He just started learning Arabic in hopes to read new books and learn different histories in places that spoke Arabic, so his Arabic is nowhere near as good as the rest. He only learned Mandarin to visit certain places and still be able to order things on menu's.

[mischiefbuckley]

Steph, I've got a question for you...

How's Eddie's Spanish? I don't mean the dialogue because that's coming from the writers room, I mean Ryan's pronunciation. I'm not a Spanish speaker, so I don't know if it's good, bad, whatever.

Like, we all want more Eddie speaking Spanish, but do you think it's done well enough?

(This is coming from someone whose dad can understand but not speak his parents native language and someone who can count to 11, say the words butterfly and potato in it, and that's pretty much it. This is my "why I want Eddie to speak Spanish")

hello!!! (lol sorry I’m barely seeing this I’ve been busy at work all day and didn’t get a chance to see this til I was off)

I would say Ryan’s pronunciation for what he says in regards to his Spanish dialogue is fine, but again in the sense that yes you can tell that’s a Latino actor speaking Spanish and he learned Spanish from native speakers. I can only assume from what I have seen that Ryan either isn’t very fluent in Spanish or can only speak very little of it and doesn’t have full on conversations because I did look up videos of him speaking Spanish in interviews/other projects he has done and yes he does speak Spanish, but again it’s very minimal and it immediately switches over to English like it doesn’t seem like he could full on carry a conversation so that’s why I am assuming the writers do the bare minimum with him speaking Spanish in the show

I am a native Spanish speaker as in my mom grew up in Mexico, but I grew up in the United States and learned Spanish from her and my family growing up before I learned English, so I can have full on conversations in both languages, but I only switch over say if the conversation flows that way to switching from English to Spanish and Spanish to English so that’s what I did notice from again watching the show and seeing Eddie speaking Spanish like it’s more the background characters that could carry the conversation more in Spanish, but Ryan doesn’t, but again I would say pronunciation wise he does a fine job at what he ultimately ends up saying but that’s what I could infer but again just my opinion like I would say he does a good job with the pronunciation it sounds sincere and not white washed at all

thank you for the question definitely had to think on that one but good question overall I hope that answered it 😅

[fictionalboysarejustbetter]

Friendships from Afar

Distance creates a barrier of trust. There are no worries. There is always a safety net to fall back on that protects from hurt or pain. Beginning in second grade, my personal goal had always been to find a singular, perfect friend who lives far away. We could talk openly with each other, and I would have the ability to be myself. The plan is that years later, I would meet this person in the weirdest of circumstances, and we would be best friends forever. It’s even better if this friend is a guy, so then we can both fall in love and get married to live happily ever after.

In second grade, the entire class received school pen pals, and while my fourth-grade pen pal was not ideal, I knew I loved this “secret” letter writing system where I am just Rebecca, nothing more or less. Moving into fifth grade, Mrs. Smith found me a pen pal from China. Through our teachers, we would send each other letters back and forth until the school year was over. From this moment onward, I was hooked; pen pals didn’t care what I looked like or how shy I was or how involved my mother was with the school, I could just be me, and they only knew the information I told them. Without asking for help, I scavenged through the internet, trying to collect pen pals as if they were Webkinz. I was convinced this perfect friend could only be found on pen pal websites that look like they were made by my fellow fifth graders.

Starting in sixth grade, I would spend night after night stalking the profiles of random teenagers on Students of the World, a supposedly “safe” pen pal website for kids. Gender? Who cares. Age? About 10-16. Likes? Reading, of course. Language? English please. I would then press search and sift through hundreds of profiles, finding the perfect candidates to be my best friend. This process was extremely predictable, including:

The teenage boys “looking” for a relationship:

Nathaniel, Age 14, UK

HOBBIES:

Photo

Trips

Cinema, Television

Sports

Reading

Painting, Drawing, Art

Hi! Are you looking for a cool guy to write to? Send me a nice message otherwise you’ll miss something priceless. 

I can speak:

English, French

The liars that claimed they like everything and speak every language:

Janhvi, Age 16, USA

HOBBIES:

Photo

Trips

Clothes

Cinema, Television

Sports

Sciences

Music

Reading

Animals, Nature

Cooking

Collections

Painting, Drawing, Art

Hello !!👩I'm Janhvi .I like to travel.I have traveled in to many countries .Such as india , sri lanka, china, france and more.I like make new friends.message me soon guys.👭👫OUR LIFE IS CHANGE , BUT FRIENDSHIP NEVER BE CHANGE.

I can speak:

English French German Italian Spanish Arabic Chinese Japanese Korean

The students making a profile for class:

Chaya, Age 13, USA

HOBBIES:

Clothes

Cinema, Television

Music

Reading

Animals, Nature

I am looking for a penpal for our school project. I would like to find some in Atlanta, Georgia.

I can speak:

English

I would scroll through these profiles so constantly that I rarely found new profiles. I was judging every profile based off of the person’s name, biography, age, likes, languages, everything. Most people without a profile picture wouldn’t receive an email from me. I tried to avoid messaging anyone from the United States unless they sounded like a major fangirl or fanboy over the books I liked. I automatically favored anyone from Europe, especially if they had an interesting name. But regardless if anyone from anywhere sent me a message first, I would respond back at least once.

Shortly after the search began, I received a message from a girl named Julia from Australia. She and I were the same age, we both needed a friend, and we both liked reading, animals, music, and clothes. Quickly, my life began to revolve around the fourteen hours that always stood between Australia and the United States. Throughout sixth and seventh grade, we would be constantly messaging on the messaging app “kik,” confiding everything deep and useless to each other like best friends do:

Becca says:

Hey, how are you?

Julia says:

Everyones well... Mum and dad start the long drive to melbourne this weekend so everythings kinda topsy turvy :p

How is your family and pets? Im sorry for my rudeness that i didnt ask earlier

Nearlytime for school?

Becca says:

Lol that is fine! I get to school around 8, so normally ill drop off right before, lol i try to remember to tell you but i tend to forget. Theyre good though. Willie and Apricot are happy my grandma left :-P mom and dad are helping me with my ancestry project and exploding of happiness because I got a position in that volleyball club and my sister has been working and spending money :-P her favorite thing to do

Julia says:

Ahh the christmas spirit... Lol is there anyone in the house who loves your grandmother?

Becca says:

Lol we love her because shes family, but no one loves her when shes here if you know what i mean.

What’s up?

For two years, the conversations would continue for hours, as we both wait anxiously for the “ding” on our tablets, indicating a new message. Julia’s father was a firefighter who fought the nasty bushfires that haunted their country. I interviewed him as my hero for my final paper and presentation in my eighth grade English class. I interviewed him through email after our initial plans to Skype were sidetracked by the active wildfires, and I so proudly presented the information about him that you would have thought he was my father.

One day, Julia told me about her divorced parents. Then, she told me about the twins her mom just gave birth to. Then, she explained that she actually has a twin brother and no younger siblings at all. Then, she became an aunt to twin nephews. Then, her house burned down, and she had to move across the country. Then, her parents just moved across town. The stories continued and continued only within months of each other, not adding up in any way, shape, or form. With hope still in my heart, I sent her all three books of The Hunger Games trilogy since she really wanted to read them, but two months later, the books came back in the mail as undeliverable. The address did not exist.

Unable to admit defeat or accept the idea that my best friend might not be real despite all of the evidence, I started to panic. What if she is catfishing me? I’ve seen that show before, and I even gave “her” my address. Whoever this person is could easily come to my house and kidnap me...maybe I should tell my mom and warn the police. But maybe, she just has a really hard life, and she compulsively lies to make herself feel better? Maybe, she just really wants attention, and that’s why none of her stories are adding up. Besides it could still be her, she may just be scared. She could have just lied and is younger than she said and is trying to sound cool to impress me.

With these panicked thoughts raging through my body like wildfire, I blocked her from kik and began to ignore her emails. I forced myself to just disappear, so then I would have nothing to worry about. I cannot trust that Julia is really Julia, so I will just watch “her” occasional emails come in, analyzing from afar who “she” may be. I’ll search for her on Google and Facebook and Instagram and Students of the World and anywhere else I can look. The emails would keep coming for years and years, but they never held much content to them, and I’m still left to question who “Julia” is.

My Julia investigation was stalled for now, and the void of not having a constant penpal to talk to quickly came back. Therefore, my search to find the perfect best friend needed to be expedited since Julia was certainly not cut out for the position. I continued to search Students of the World with my new smartphone every chance I had. In between games at volleyball competitions, Hope and I could be found by the nearest outlet on my phone, scouring the website for the perfect answers within someone’s profile. We would send out messages together to the nerdy fangirls and fanboys around our age. Every day during the bus ride home from school, Jenna and I looked through the website on our phones, judging everyone’s biographies and pictures. Jenna created a profile too, and we would have three-way Skype sessions with Sylvia from France until the two of them became too close and stopped inviting me to Skype with them.

Finally in April of ninth grade, I received a promising email from a 16-year-old boy from France:

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

My name is Kristopher and Im from France !

I watched a few days ago Divergent and it made me want to read the books !

I see you like tv shows and video games as I do !

I am not fluent in English but I can talk to you !

If you want I can learn you French ! :)

Typically, I would spend about twenty minutes every day responding to emails from random penpals on my way home from school, but within the first three or so emails to a person, one of us would just stop responding. In regard to Kris, I generally liked video games, but I wasn’t obsessed with them, and I had a weird taste in TV, so we probably couldn’t talk about that much. But Divergent by Veronica Roth was my all-time favorite book. As soon as I read that word in the email, I knew I would be responding until he stopped responding to me. It had always been my goal to fall in love with a fanboy, especially one with the same taste in books and movies as me, so I immediately responded with:

To: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com From: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com

Hi Kristopher!

What part of France are you from? I live near Pittsburgh, PA, USA.

Yes, definitely read the books! They are amazing! I find myself gravitating towards video games and shows more than sports! :P

I don't know much of French as I take Spanish in school, but I'd love to learn some and help you with English as well!

Rebecca

He emailed me back within minutes, and we emailed for most of the evening, talking about books and food and the differences between the United States and France. That night though, my phone battery had died, and it was only for a few hours. After plugging it in, I found five unread messages from him, making sure I was okay.

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Lol it works ! :) Good courage to go back to school ! :)

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Hey sweetie 😆

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

How are you Miss ?

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Do You use words like ain't or gonna ? 😆

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Are you OK ?

As soon as I read these messages, my heart fluttered a little. This was just the beginning of our constant messaging and talking. I happily responded to him, and within days, Kris was my perfect, new best friend. The random space he left between the last word and the punctuation of a sentence would drive me insane, but I didn’t have the heart to explain the process to him. We talked so consistently that it would probably be considered unhealthy, discussing pets, family, being the youngest child, aspirations, atheism, languages, food, books, video games, and everything else under the sun. I was stuck to my phone all day, and every time I picked it up, I waited in anticipation for a notification with his name and the random spaces between his words and the punctuation.

The six-hour time difference between the two of us meant nothing, with him staying up late and me getting up early. Between classes, we would sneak each other messages about how our days were going. My week-long field trip to San Antonio, Texas was spent either messaging him or scouting out an outlet to plug my phone into so that I could talk to him. The more access I had to Kris, the further I distanced myself from my friends and family. When my phone would die or I wouldn’t have reception, I would look around, annoyed by whoever the people around me were. Kris was the perfect friend I always wanted; he was my best friend, and I was his. Neither of us needed anyone else, and hopefully, all of our talking and flirting would lead to love which would lead to marriage.

The summer before tenth grade came, and Kris seemed to be growing distant. Supposedly, he was travelling all summer, and he would rarely have access to wifi. I counted down the days until he would be back home, and after one measly conversation, he disappeared again. I sent message after message, finally receiving a response about his brother pushing him in the pool and his phone being in his pocket at the time, so it was destroyed. The summer seemed to be surrounded by disappointment, but hopefully when we went back to school, our relationship would continue to be as strong as it was before.

Tenth grade began, and Kris was still busy all the time. Apparently if he kept up his hard work, he would be valedictorian. Since I couldn’t spend lunch chatting with him anymore, I bragged that I was basically dating this amazing French guy who is valedictorian at his school. Until October hit, and then I would receive the dreadful message that he has a girlfriend. Ironically, this only made our conversation stronger than it had ever been, and he even picked out my new haircut, sending me endless compliments on it. The next day, he sent another message, explaining that his girlfriend didn’t want us talking anymore so it would probably be best if we just stopped. I was bad at listening to these directions, following this conversation up with many, many new messages in attempts to strike a conversation with him again. These messages earned me a nice block from Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat.

My only method of contact would now be email, so night after night instead of stalking Students of the World for new pen pals, I would send Kris emails. I now began to understand that feeling that I caused upon Julia, who may or may not have been Julia. Throughout October and November, I received a few responses that sounded like an automatic email reply, but one email in mid-November stood out, as it was one of the last ones I would receive from him.

To: thisismyname@gmail.com From: thisiscoolfrenchboysnewemail@gmail.com

Hello Becca,

I did act stupid and didn’t answer your messages at all. When I emailed you first, I never thought our friendship would get that strong !

Guess what, there used to be a time I was really in love with you, but I haven’t dared say so … The one biggest reason was the 6000 km that stand between us ! You were the one I loved talking to ! So I talked to you and you never waited to answer and neither did I.

I don’t know, something went wrong, time changed, I’m sorry I haven’t answered you for long, this is all my bad. I wish I could go back to past to fix this.

This message will never ever be able to patch things up, but it (I hope ) will tell you that I never forgot you .

My mother would tell me time and time again that any type of relationship separated by physical distance would never work. I had never believed her, but after receiving this email, I understood. Why had I ever believed that the perfect friendship would be through time differences of at least five hours? These relationships do not automatically create a barrier of trust, often making it even harder to trust. There are always going to be worries about who that person is and what their intentions are. There is no safety net to keep you from being hurt or feeling pain. Once there is a roadblock within your barrier of communication, you cannot simply get it back after running into each other at Walmart or flashing them a fake smile as you pass them in the hallway at school. As soon as one person blocks the other or the number of unread emails increases substantially over months, that person is gone forever.

[sandersidess]

Mexican (American) Virgil

SO YES I AM PROJECTING AND I RELATE MORE TO VIRGIL HERE THROUGH MY CHILDHOOD/TEEN YEARS/EVEN NOW SO LET US BEGIN MY PEEPS (and sorry if i project too much) Inspiration to do this is thanks to @ierindoodles from their Brazilian Patton post and @really-sleep-deprived-nerd from their Argentinian Roman post

Virgil is slightly light skinned compared to his family, and he does get teased about it and has learned not to take it to heart

He has immigrant parents and will fight anyone who disses on immigrants and will be proud of how hard working his parents are

Grew up in a mostly mixed Latino community, but stays away from the kids because some are just rude thanks to their ignorant parents who are toxic also

Will not admit it, but he does love chisme and just pretend to have music playing as his mother and aunt talk

He will get involved if it’s good and exaggerate his expressions and even stir up whatever is happening

IS A TALL BOI

His dad is slightly jealous of his height

Not a big fan of soccer never got the appeal of it but does enjoy some basketball 

Loves loves LOVES making tamales with his mother during the Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday

He enjoys when his family comes together, and that they can talk freely and just be together for a few days

He does hate how toxic his family can get and just needs to stay away

Has two brothers, one older than him by four years and three months and the other younger the same amount of time also

He did close off more during his teen years, and his parents didn’t understand but didn’t do much because they just didn’t know

Was an outcast at that time, and he only started to open up more during his junior year of high school with his mom mostly and then with his father

Came out gay in a Sam’s parking lot at 15 because his parents teased him that he likes boys (and yes this happened to me, but i came out as bisexual)

His parents were shocked and didn’t respond, but the next day they hugged him and he cried and his parents promised to learn and be less ignorant (Virgil during years helped them out with questions but were always accepting)

He is fluent in both english and spanish, but struggles with spanish as his parents put him in a school at the age of 2 1/2 so he can learn english first than spanish

He does messing with his parents on speaking Spanglish as it frustrates his mom at times (his dad is just laughing in the background)

Has some trouble writing it also

Talks super fast in spanish and will not slow down unless you tell him to

Especially when he’s passionate about something and explaining it to his parents

Hates Hates HATES when people say Cinco de Mayo is Mexican Independent Day 

“But that’s when Mexico won against the french!” “Okay, but that was Puebla” “Oh, but you still throw a fiesta?” “No, not all Mexicans celebrate it, usually only people of Puebla. Google is free by the way”

He does not know how to dance (well he does know how to move his hips) and was a mess when asked to be a chambelan for his best friend’s quinceñera 

But he will dance with his mom when she plays classic old songs she used to listen when he was a child

He does love Banda MS and will listen to their songs along with K-Paz and Vicente Fernandez (and more) (he will pretend to hold a tequila bottle when listening to him)

His dad actually has a picture of him doing so and has it as his home screen

He is a proud First Gen high school student and college student (his older brother dropped out of school)

He cried and cried during his graduation and hugged his parents tightly and promised to make them proud

I am projecting too much oops

He will enjoy watching his mother cook as she pays so much attention to what she adds and will ask questions

Though he never has has never stepped foot in Mexico, his parents from Guerrero (Chilpancingo and Acapulco) tell him how it is and he does hope to go one day once the violence has calmed down

Will always say how proud he is about who he is and will bash anyone who even tries to bad talk about latinos

Back to food, is very, VERY picky about mole and barbacoa de pollo and enchiladas and hevos a la mexicana, because he is very used to his parents food and will cry inside when he hears how his friends (non-poc) judge the food he brings

Loves the like the slang words his parents say and use it on his friends

Also just loves messing with his friends

“Ama! Tengo hambre!” “Haste de comer, huevon!” “Ya no me sirbe nada!” “Mira pendejo-” (cue Virgil laughing and running to his room)

Has been victim of the chancla and will tell his mom to try out for baseball 

Loves his family so much and will die and kill for them

[i-am-parsec]

Unaddressed Letters - Part V

                                                           Leaving Jacksonville - part I

The night they leave is warm and quiet. End of the summer, the streets downtown are still fairly crowed after the sun goes down, Stacy has some costumers roaming around the thrift shop while Chase, just across the street, sweats in the kitchen of a Mexican restaurant, trying to leave no meat uncooked and no drink without ice.

During a brief moment of precious spare time, he checks his phone.

“Call me when you are done with the dishes, kitchen boy" reads the screen.

His heart skips a beat and he frowns. Of course she’s texting him, they are friends. They go back home together every single night after work. This is not something worth a heart-beat skipping, when the fuck is his brain going to get the memo?

He can’t continue his internal screaming - those burritos aren’t going to make themselves.

The young girl puts her phone away as an old man approaches the counter. Dark eyes, whitening short brown hair, a full goatee and about two heads taller than her. He doesn’t look scary per se, but neither does he look friendly and yet Stacy is invaded by an strange feeling of warm comfort when met by this unknown client and ponders, for a second, why. When it clicks, her hands freeze. She keeps her gaze glued on the light blue shirt she’s bagging, choking back the tears. It’s always like this, something ordinary, unimportant, pulls the trigger and the pain rushes to her eyes. She manages to snap out of it, but not without the man noticing.

“Is everything okay, ma’am?”

Fuck, even his voice is similar. She fails at smiling and looks away.

“Yes, sir, it’s just…you look a lot like...uh, my dad. Well, not a lot, it’s mostly the beard...I think…”

As she looks down, it’s impossible to deny the burn in her throat and the shaking of her hands. Not now, please, not here. Crying during working hours in a thrift shop that’s probably – totally – laundering drug money.

Well, that’s a new low.

“Did you lose him recently?” asks the man gently, prompting her to look up.

“No, I…I lost him when I was kid. He was shot…a robbery gone wrong…”

He nods, no trace of pity in his features, only compassion and understanding. Maybe he lives in town, maybe he also lost someone in the hands of the corrupted and greedy. Maybe he knows this pain too.

“I’m sorry to tell you, darling, that it won’t ever stop hurting, especially in your case, a loss so unfair, but let me tell you this…” the old man stops for a second, and then, with more conviction than Stacy has ever witnessed in her entire life “…you are strong enough to handle this and any other nonsense that life throws at you. You just gotta remember that, always."

Her phone buzzes for a long minute but she doesn’t pick up. She’s still holding her breath when he gives her the money. She wants to tell him to not worry about it, the shirt is on her, but with such a tight budget, every cent counts. All she can do is smile and thank him.

Another call. She tries her best to sound calm but Chase can tell something's wrong in the tiredness of her "hey". She explains quickly, hoping to ease his friend's mind - he's already anxious mess by default, wouldn't want to fuel it up - and after repeating at least ten times "yes, Chase, I swear I'm ok now", she sighs and then asks.

"Can we go down to the bar tonight?"

There's a second of silence. She hates drinking or, to be more precise, she hates seeing him drinking. She claims he likes it a bit too much for his own good. She continues.

"I'll hurry up and close this dumpster in a minute, and then we go straight down to Joe's, what do you say?"

He knows what his friend is doing, she's avoiding herself, avoiding the thinking, the pain and honestly, he can't blame her. He's been there, done that, and she always stayed by his side whenever he went into Emotionless Drunk Mess mode, so he has no problem returning the favor now.

"I say I'm covered in sweat, blood and other unknown bodily fluids so maybe we go home and take a shower first?"

When she laughs, he feels his heart become a little lighter.

"First of all: ew, gross; secondly: We take shower? Are you suggesting we take it together, Brody?"

And there it is, that's the Stacy he knows and loves - a teasing smart ass. This time though, he doesn't let her words fluster him - too much - and attacks back.

"Of course, Walters, we gotta do it for the environment's sake, you know? We gotta save water!"

"Oh, yeah, totally, that’s why, it has nothing to do with you dying to see me naked."

"I feel so insulted you would even dare to think that, young lady, I am a gentleman!"

"Oh, sure thing, perv. Okay, I'll finish here and meet you outside in a bit."

The smile on his face lingers all the way until he sees her walking out the store. He nods curiously at the bag on her hand. She smiles like a kid planning a prank and simply winks.

“I’m just borrowing a little something.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s called stealing, Stacy.”

She chuckles and then, as she usually does, starts a fire in his chest with just a short phrase.

“Don’t judge me, I just want to look pretty for our date.”

She’s joking, Brody, she’s fucking joking, like all friends do.

Just as they get to their stop, their bus arrives.

“This must be our lucky night” exclaims Stacy surprised. Once they are settled in their seats, she rests her head  on his shoulder and grabs his hand. Chase simply does his best to not suffer a stroke.

“We have to get out of here, dude. Soon.”

“That’s the plan” stutters the young man, wishing he could sound a bit less nervous by something that they have been doing for years now.

“Yeah, I know, but we always talk about it as a goal in the future and I…I don’t know. I feel like we shouldn’t wait too long or we might end up never leave this town” mutters Stacy with a sudden grim tone.

“Don’t say that, dude, of course we are doing it,” says her friend as her grabs her chin, looking for her eyes, all awkwardness replaced by the imperative need to bring her smile back “we promised we would, didn’t we?”

She nods half-heartedly and snuggles up against him, like a lost dog hides from the rain under a frail tree. As he hugs her, bringing her closer, he whispers against her dark hair: “Let’s set a date.”

“For our wedding? Sorry, Brody, but you haven’t even proposed to me yet” she jokes dryly.

Ignoring the sudden rush of heat on his body, he replies: “No, dumbass, for our escape!”

She come out of her shelter and looks at him with a hint of excitement on her eyes.

“A date?”

“Yeah, a date. Tell me when you want to leave.”

She bites her lower lip - one of her many quirks that drives him insane - and inhales slowly. As she breathes out, she answers: “End of this year. That should give us enough time to save a decent amount of money, make a good plan and maybe find a place to rent.”

“Well, end of the year it is. December 31 we are getting the fuck out of Jacksonville.”

And when he laughs, she feels the whole world become a little lighter.

More info, previous chapters, tag list AND HEADCANONS under the cut

First and foremost, I apologize for any mistakes in the chapter. This one wasn’t proof-read either and on top of that I wrote it on a rush but hopefully it’s decent ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

All chapters in chronological order, here. Previous chapter, here. Next chapter, here.

SO, yes, this is a two-part chapter - truth be told, I’m only posting this now and not both parts as one since I’m quite busy and have no time to finish writing it but I still wanted to post something now as, idk, a christmas special???? whatever, I just wanted to post it, lol

Anyways, HEADCANON TIME:

* As you may have noticed in the last chapter, Chase and Stacy’s daughter - Esperanza (which, by the way, means Hope in Spanish) - has a VERY Latino name, well, that’s because my hc is that Stacy is latina! Well, half latina, her mom is latina, her dad is white and because Stacy is white-passing and her mom knew about the struggles of being a Latina woman in the US, Stacy’s parents decided to give her a very white first name, so she would have it “easier” in life. Spoiler alert: she didn’t have it easier in life. Like, at all.

* Despite that, she still has a very Latino second name - Dolores (which means Pains in Spanish *winkwink*) - that she loves just as much as she loves her Latino heritage, and that’s why she named her daughter like that - Chase 100% loves the name as well.

* This is kinda spoilerish (because I will explore this headcanon in far more depth later on the fic) but I still feel you guys should know: Before they were the best of friends, Henrik and Chase were penpals - they met through an elementary school penpal project and kept writing each other all the way until adulthood, when they finally met face to face.

* Neither Chase or Stacy had pets - or were allowed to have any - by the time they became friends, but they both love animals and started feeding a cat they always came across on their way to school. They named the cat Sam.

* Stacy is allergic to cats. She loved Sam from a distance.

* Chase knows quite a bit of Spanish Stacy taugh him. She didn’t teach him just for funsies but because she ended up getting him a job in a Mexican restaurant and the owners didn’t speak English. She was very impressed by how easy it was for him to get used to the Latino enviroment and how good he turned out to be at cooking.

* Chase knows Stacy likes her second name better than her first, but sucks at pronuncing it correctly so he only call her Dolores jokingly andsometimeswhentheyhavesex

* They weren’t each others “first”, but Stacy told Chase after they did it for the first time that she had never enjoyed sex before him (and Chase almost cried because of such huge compliment).

* Esperanza is fluent in Spanish and English and knows a bit of German thanks to Uncle Henrik. Henrik is also Esperanza’s godfather.

I have way more headcanons but all of them are incredibly spoilery, so this is all you get for now. Now let’s move on to the next chap-

❤  Tag list ❤: @amyxmiaplay, @beck-pma, @closedworldofmathiel, @darktrash-drash, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @flyingfishflopsthings, @fruitycasket, @happysingingturtles, @hiimizzyxoxo, @hishex, @kitnkas, @mcomegalletas, @mijako98, @mjjau, @mysterious-cupcake-ninja, @mysticalanimallover, @novasingalaxies, @plutoandpolaris, @probablyghosting, @randomartdudette, @saltyweirdbi, @sassy-in-glasses, @scarlet--raven, @septicuniverse, @skyewardlight, @thevampireauthoress, @youllnevertaketheskyfromme

Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please reblog, that helps me a lot ❤

[andrewccoda-blog]

Day 13 (5/3/20)

I woke up late. It’s Sunday after all! Sunday we try to eat all meals together, but I had obviously already skipped breakfast. Sunday is also the day when I usually wrap up any leftover homework. The pool looked pristine and inviting, but I resisted temptation. AP Physics, English quarantine blog and Spanish vlog were all waiting for me, and I am not one to procrastinate. Done. Next, I had to interview my mom, in Spanish, for a class project about social networks. Yes, my mom is fluent in Spanish, and so is my dad. No, it’s not their native language, but it has the same Latin roots as the Romanian we all speak at home. The Spanish they studied in Europe though is somewhat different than what we are being taught in US. Between my Spanish and hers, it made for a very comical afternoon. We concluded our family time with dinner, which tonight was a famous traditional Romanian street food, Mititei, or “small ones.” These small flavorful skinless sausages are my most ordered food every time we visit our family in Romania. French fries are their best sidekicks. Bon Appetit! Buen provecho! Pofta buna!