#this is based on an experience i had in spanish class one time

[a-lexia11]

The Age of Love (Part 1)

Alexia Putellas x reader

Word count: Around 9k

Warning: age gap,angst,break up

Summary: After your coworker and boss, Eli, invites you to dinner with her two daughters, you find yourself drawn to her eldest daughter, Alexia, who is nearly ten years older than you.

Part 2

Based on this request.

Y/N had always harbored a deep desire to live in Europe, a dream fueled by years of fascination with the continent's rich history, diverse cultures, and artistic heritage.

When the opportunity arose to study history and art at one of Barcelona's most prestigious universities, she knew she couldn't let it slip away.

The vibrant city, with its stunning architecture, world-class museums, and lively atmosphere, seemed like the perfect place to immerse herself in her passions.

Moving from the United States to Barcelona was a bold step, but Y/N had been preparing for it for years.

Her mother, a dedicated Spanish teacher, had instilled in her a love for the language and culture from a young age.

Countless evenings spent practicing Spanish conversations with her mom had given her a solid foundation, but nothing could truly prepare her for the experience of living in Spain.

Now, three months into her new life, Y/N had begun to settle into the rhythm of the city. Her days were a delicate balancing act between her demanding university courses and her part-time job at a quaint café tucked away on a charming side street near the university.

The café had become a second home to her, a place where she could escape the pressures of academic life and connect with the local community.

It was here, amidst the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the hum of quiet conversations, that Y/N first met Eli, the café's owner.

Eli was a woman of warmth and grace, with a kind smile that immediately put Y/N at ease. She was in her early sixties, with a presence that exuded both confidence and compassion.

From the moment Y/N started working at the café, Eli had taken her under her wing, treating her not just as an employee, but almost like a daughter.

Eli's kindness extended far beyond the usual employer-employee relationship. She was attentive to Y/N's needs, always making sure she had time to study, offering advice on life in Barcelona, and even introducing her to some of the café's regular customers.

Eli knew that Y/N was far from home and had only a few friends in the city, so she made it her mission to ensure Y/N felt supported and cared for. In many ways, Eli had become Y/N's surrogate family in this foreign land.

Y/N admired Eli not just for her kindness but also for her dedication to her business and her pride in her family.

Eli often spoke of her two daughters, Alexia and Alba, with the kind of pride that only a mother could have. Y/N had heard many stories about them—Alexia, the eldest, who was a professional footballer for FC Barcelona and the Spain national team, and Alba, the younger daughter, who is working in a school.

Though Y/N had yet to meet them in person, she felt as though she already knew them through Eli's stories.

Life in Barcelona was beginning to feel like a dream come true, and Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunities that had brought her to this city.

But little did she know, her connection to Eli and her daughters would soon lead her down a path she had never anticipated, one that would challenge her in ways she had never imagined.

——

One evening, as the sun began to set and the last few customers trickled out of the café, Y/N was busy wiping down the tables and preparing to close up for the night.

The gentle hum of the espresso machine was the only sound that filled the cozy space. Just as she was stacking the last of the chairs, Eli approached her with a warm and familiar smile, her presence always bringing a sense of comfort.

“Y/N, ¿puedo hablar contigo un momento?” Eli asked, her tone gentle but eager.(Y/N, can I talk to you for a moment?)

Y/N looked up from the counter, her hands still busy with a towel as she wiped them clean. She could sense that Eli had something on her mind, something more than the usual café chatter. “Claro, Eli. ¿Qué pasa?” she responded, her curiosity piqued. (Of course, Eli. What’s up?)

Eli’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and affection. There was a certain glow to her face, a kind of maternal warmth that Y/N had grown to appreciate over the past few months. “Me encantaría invitarte a cenar en mi casa este fin de semana,” Eli began, her voice filled with enthusiasm. “Mis hijas estarán allí, y me encantaría que las conocieras.” (I’d love to invite you to dinner at my house this weekend. My daughters will be there, and I’d really like you to meet them.)

Y/N felt a flutter of nervousness in her chest, coupled with a deep sense of gratitude. She had heard so much about Eli’s daughters—especially Alexia, the footballer—and the thought of meeting them felt both exciting and daunting.

But at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel a bit apprehensive about intruding on their family time. “¡Qué amable de tu parte! Pero no quiero causarles molestias,” she replied, her voice tinged with hesitation. (That’s so kind of you! But I don’t want to be a bother.)

Eli shook her head, her expression turning more resolute, yet still gentle. “No es molestia en absoluto,” she said, her tone firm but reassuring. “Eres parte de nuestra familia ahora, y quiero que lo sientas así.” (It’s no trouble at all. You’re part of our family now, and I want you to feel that way.)

Y/N’s heart swelled at Eli’s words. The idea of being considered part of a family in a city so far from her own home was something she hadn’t expected, but it meant the world to her.

Eli’s invitation wasn’t just a casual offer; it was an expression of genuine care and inclusion.

After a moment of thought, Y/N smiled, her apprehension melting away. “Gracias, Eli. Me encantaría ir,” she finally said, her voice filled with sincerity. (Thank you, Eli. I’d love to come.)

Eli beamed, clearly pleased with Y/N’s acceptance. “Perfecto. Será una noche especial. Mis hijas están deseando conocerte.” (Perfect. It’s going to be a special night. My daughters are excited to meet you.)

As Y/N locked up the café that evening, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions—nervousness, anticipation, and even a bit of excitement.

Meeting Eli’s daughters felt like a significant step, and though she was unsure of what to expect, she knew that this dinner could mark the beginning of something new and important in her life.

——

When the day of the dinner finally arrived, Y/N stood in front of Eli's apartment, taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

The building was nestled in a charming part of Barcelona, with narrow streets lined with trees and the soft glow of street lamps illuminating the evening.

The scent of blooming jasmine wafted through the air, mingling with the warmth of the Spanish night.

The door opened almost immediately, and Eli greeted her with a broad smile that reached her eyes. “¡Y/N, qué alegría verte! Pasa, pasa,” she said, enveloping Y/N in a tight hug. (Y/N, so good to see you! Come in, come in.)

Inside, the apartment was cozy and inviting, with soft lighting that bathed the room in a warm glow.

The scent of Eli’s cooking filled the air, a blend of saffron, garlic, and seafood—clearly, the famous paella she had heard so much about was on the menu.

Family photos lined the walls, capturing moments of joy and togetherness over the years.

“Qué bien huele,” Y/N remarked as she followed Eli into the living room, feeling both nervous and excited. (It smells amazing.)

“Gracias, cariño. Me aseguré de preparar lo mejor para esta noche,” Eli replied with a wink, guiding Y/N into the room where her daughters were waiting. (Thank you, sweetheart. I made sure to prepare the best for tonight.)

As they entered the living room, Y/N’s heart raced slightly. Alexia and Alba were seated on a plush sofa, engaged in a quiet conversation that paused the moment they noticed her arrival.

“Chicas, esta es Y/N, la joven de la que tanto les he hablado,” Eli announced, her voice full of pride as she placed a gentle hand on Y/N’s shoulder. (Girls, this is Y/N, the young woman I’ve told you so much about.)

Y/N felt the warmth rise to her cheeks as she met the gazes of Eli’s daughters. Alba, with her warm brown eyes and easy smile, greeted her first. “Hola, Y/N. Es un placer finalmente conocerte,” she said, standing up to give her a welcoming hug. (Hi, Y/N. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.)

“El placer es mío,” Y/N replied, returning the hug, her initial nervousness starting to melt away in the friendly atmosphere. (The pleasure is mine.)

But it was Alexia who held Y/N’s attention the most. As she stood up from the sofa, Y/N couldn’t help but be struck by her presence.

Alexia was stunning in person, her long, blonde-colored hair cascading over her shoulders, framing her strong jawline. Her hazel eyes seemed to hold a quiet intensity, yet they softened as they locked onto Y/N’s.

“Hola, Y/N. Encantada de conocerte,” Alexia greeted her, extending a hand with a smile that was both warm and captivating. (Hi, Y/N. Nice to meet you.)

Y/N hesitated for the briefest of moments, taken aback by how effortlessly charming Alexia was. But she quickly recovered, shaking her hand. “Igualmente. Eli habla mucho de ustedes,”she replied, trying to keep her cool despite the flutter in her chest. (Likewise. Eli talks a lot about you both.)

“Espero que sean cosas buenas,” Alba chimed in, her playful tone easing the tension that Y/N hadn’t even realized was building. (I hope they’re good things.)

“Todas buenas, no te preocupes,”Y/N responded with a laugh, feeling more comfortable as she settled into the rhythm of the conversation. (All good, don’t worry.)

As they all sat down for dinner, the table was filled with plates of Eli’s famous paella, fresh bread, and an assortment of tapas.

Eli fussed over everyone, making sure their plates were full and that Y/N was comfortable. The meal was a sensory delight, with the rich flavors of the paella bursting in Y/N’s mouth, the saffron giving it a deep, earthy taste that she knew she would crave again.

The conversation flowed easily, with Eli regaling them with stories from the café and anecdotes about her daughters.

Y/N found herself laughing along with the family, the warmth of their dynamic reminding her of home, though it was thousands of miles away.

Throughout the meal, Y/N couldn’t help but steal glances at Alexia. There was something about her that drew Y/N in—the way she carried herself with such quiet confidence, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, and the moments when she seemed to catch Y/N’s gaze, holding it just a second longer than necessary.

As the evening wound down and they moved into the living room for coffee, the atmosphere became more relaxed. They talked about everything and nothing—Barcelona’s latest game, Y/N’s studies, Alba’s work. But the conversation that really made Y/N feel seen was the one she had with Alexia.

“Entonces, ¿cómo es que terminaste en Barcelona?” Alexia asked, her voice curious as she leaned slightly forward, her full attention on Y/N. (So, how did you end up in Barcelona?)

Y/N took a moment to gather her thoughts, glad to have Alexia’s undivided attention. “Siempre he amado el arte y la historia del arte , y cuando surgió la oportunidad de estudiar aquí, supe que tenía que aprovecharla. Barcelona es el lugar perfecto para sumergirse en en arte.” (I’ve always loved art and history of art, and when the opportunity to study here came up, I knew I had to take it. Barcelona is the perfect place to immerse myself in art.)

Alexia nodded, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed Y/N’s words. “Eso suena increíble. No todos tienen el coraje de mudarse a otro país para seguir sus sueños,” she said, admiration clear in her voice. (That sounds amazing. Not everyone has the courage to move to another country to follow their dreams.)

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of pride swell within her. “Bueno, también tiene sus desafíos,” she admitted, her voice growing softer. “Es difícil estar lejos de mi familia y amigos, pero estoy tratando de construir algo nuevo aquí.”(Well, it has its challenges too. It’s hard being away from my family and friends, but I’m trying to build something new here.)

Alexia’s gaze softened as she nodded in understanding. “Eso es muy valiente, Y/N. No es fácil empezar de nuevo, pero parece que lo estás haciendo muy bien.” (That’s very brave, Y/N. It’s not easy to start over, but it seems like you’re doing really well.)

There was a sincerity in Alexia’s words that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

She appreciated how Alexia wasn’t just being polite—she genuinely seemed to care about what Y/N was going through.

The connection between them grew stronger with each exchange, a silent understanding passing between them that neither could ignore.

As the night drew to a close, and Y/N prepared to leave, Alexia offered to walk her to the door. They stepped out into the cool night air, the sounds of the city muted in the distance.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,Y/N,” Alexia said in English, her voice soft and sincere as she looked at Y/N. “I hope we can see each other again soon.”

Y/N smiled, her heart skipping a beat at the thought. “The pleasure was mine. I’d love that.,” she replied, trying to hide the nervous excitement bubbling inside her.

Before they parted ways, they exchanged numbers, a small but significant gesture that hinted at something more.

As Y/N walked back to her apartment, her mind replayed the evening over and over, particularly the moments she had shared with Alexia.

There was something undeniable between them—a connection that felt both exciting and terrifying, like the start of something she hadn’t expected but couldn’t resist.

As she lay in bed that night, Y/N found herself smiling at the memory of Alexia’s smile, her heart racing with anticipation of what might come next.

——

In the weeks following their initial meeting, Y/N and Alexia seemed to encounter each other with increasing regularity.

It was as if fate had a hand in their meetings, which occurred at the most unexpected places—cozy cafés, serene parks, or even while strolling through bustling streets.

These chance encounters felt more like serendipitous moments, and with each one, their bond appeared to strengthen.

One bright afternoon, Y/N settled into a charming little café close to her university. The café, with its rustic wooden tables and cozy atmosphere, was her favorite spot to unwind between classes.

As she sipped her coffee and flipped through her notes, she barely noticed the café’s door swing open.

When she did look up, she saw Alexia walk in, her presence almost magnetic. Their eyes met across the room, and Alexia’s smile was both warm and electrifying.

The way she carried herself—confident yet approachable—made Y/N’s heart flutter slightly.

Alexia made her way over, her long blonde hair catching the light with each step. “Can I sit with you?” she asked, her voice smooth and inviting.

Y/N, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected but welcome gesture, quickly recovered and gestured to the empty seat across from her. “Of course. I’m glad to see you. How have you been?”

Alexia settled into the chair, and they both felt the ease of familiarity that their previous meetings had fostered.

As they began to chat, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They talked about everything from their favorite books and films to their most recent adventures around the city.

Alexia’s laughter was infectious, a melodic sound that made Y/N’s worries from the day fade away.

Y/N found herself enchanted by the way Alexia spoke passionately about her experiences as a footballer, sharing stories of intense matches and humorous anecdotes from training.

Alexia, in turn, listened with genuine interest as Y/N spoke about her studies and the small joys she found in her new life in Barcelona.

Their connection deepened with each word exchanged. They discovered a shared love for art, which led to animated discussions about their favorite museums and exhibitions.

Alexia expressed interest in visiting the local art galleries that Y/N frequented, and Y/N eagerly offered to be her guide.

By the end of their time together, they both felt a sense of reluctance to part ways. As they prepared to leave, Alexia looked at Y/N with a hopeful smile. “¿Te gustaría salir conmigo a menudo, tal vez para explorar la ciudad o simplemente tomar un café?” (Would you like to go out with me often, maybe to explore the city or just grab a coffee?)

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. “Me encantaría. Será genial explorar más de Barcelona contigo.” (I’d love that. It’ll be great to explore more of Barcelona with you.)

After that encounter, their conversations over the phone and through text messages continued to reveal more about their shared interests and personal dreams, drawing them closer together with each interaction.

——

Several days later, Alexia extended an invitation for Y/N to join her for dinner. They decided to meet at a quaint restaurant Alexia cherished. The evening was imbued with a sense of magic, the restaurant’s candlelight casting a warm, soft glow that perfectly complemented its intimate ambiance.

As they sat across from each other at the table, the flickering candles highlighted Alexia’s features, making her gaze even more captivating. Y/N felt an electric tension in the air.

“Me alegra que hayas aceptado mi invitación. ¿Cómo te ha ido en la universidad?” (I’m glad you accepted my invitation. How’s university going for you?)

Y/N’s smile was genuine, a reflection of her growing affection. “Ha sido un poco abrumador a veces, pero me estoy adaptando. ¿Y tú? ¿Cómo van los entrenamientos?” (It’s been a bit overwhelming at times, but I’m adjusting. And you? How’s training going?)

Alexia’s face lit up as she talked about football. Her passion was palpable, and Y/N was entranced by the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke. “El entrenamiento ha sido duro, pero me encanta. Cada partido, cada entrenamiento, me hace sentir más viva. ¿Y tú? ¿Hay algo que te apasione tanto?” (Training has been tough, but I love it. Every match, every training session makes me feel more alive. What about you? Is there something you’re passionate about?)

Y/N’s eyes softened. “El arte y la historia del arte es mi vida. Desde que era pequeña, siempre he soñado con trabajar en museos, o tal vez enseñar historia del arte algún día.” (Art and history of art is my life. Ever since I was little, I’ve dreamed of working in museums or maybe teaching art history someday.)

They continued their conversation, each topic weaving them closer together. The hours seemed to fly by, and when they finally left the restaurant, the cool night air felt invigorating.

Alexia gently took Y/N’s hand as they walked down the quiet, dimly lit streets. The simple touch sent a thrill through Y/N’s body.

“Would you like to take a walk around the neighborhood?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered with excitement. “I would love too”

As they strolled through the serene streets, the soft sound of their footsteps was the only noise that accompanied their growing closeness.

They paused near a small, charming park where the moonlight cast a silvery sheen over the scene.

Alexia stopped and turned to face Y/N, her expression serious yet tender. “Y/N, desde que te conocí, siento una conexión contigo que nunca he experimentado antes. No puedo explicar lo que siento, pero es como si te conociera desde siempre.” (Y/N, since I met you, I’ve felt a connection with you that I’ve never experienced before. I can’t explain what I feel, but it’s like I’ve known you forever.)

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She looked deeply into Alexia’s eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of vulnerability and hope. “Yo siento lo mismo. Hay algo en ti que me atrae de una manera que nunca antes había sentido.” (I feel the same. There’s something about you that attracts me in a way I’ve never felt before.)

With their emotions laid bare, they leaned in slowly. Their lips met in a kiss that was both gentle and electrifying.

The world seemed to dissolve around them, leaving only the two of them in that perfect moment.

The kiss deepened, as if expressing all the feelings they had been unable to articulate. It was tender yet passionate, a blend of longing and affection.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads touched, and they gazed into each other’s eyes, sharing a silent understanding.

They held hands as they continued their walk, their hearts intertwined in a newfound connection that promised to grow deeper with each passing day.

——

As Y/N and Alexia's relationship grew stronger, they continued to meet in secret, savoring their moments together despite the pressures that surrounded them.

Their time together was a precious escape from the complications of their lives. They discovered hidden treasures of Barcelona, from charming bookshops to quiet, picturesque beaches, finding joy and comfort in each other's presence.

On one particularly beautiful Saturday, Y/N and Alexia chose to spend the day at a scenic park on the edge of the city. They spread a blanket under the shade of a large tree and enjoyed a picnic that Alexia had lovingly prepared.

“This is perfect” Y/N said, her voice full of contentment as she surveyed the tranquil surroundings.

Alexia smiled warmly, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from Y/N’s face. “I know. I love being able to spend time with you without worrying about curious stares.”

Y/N reached out, taking Alexia’s hand in hers, and felt the comforting warmth of her touch. “What’s your life in football like? I’d love to hear more about it”

Alexia’s eyes lit up as she began to talk about her career with enthusiasm. “Es desafiante pero muy gratificante. Los entrenamientos son intensos, y los partidos siempre son una montaña rusa de emociones. Pero al final del día, lo que más me importa es jugar y dar lo mejor de mí.” (It’s challenging but incredibly rewarding. The training is intense, and the matches are always an emotional rollercoaster. But at the end of the day, what matters most is playing and giving my best.)

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the park, they shared another kiss. It was a tender, meaningful moment that felt more profound with each passing day. Their feelings were flourishing, but they both knew that the challenges ahead were significant.

One issue neither of them had anticipated was that the age difference would become a significant problem for others.

——

The first signs of trouble emerged one crisp morning when Alexia decided to visit Eli’s café. The morning sun filtered softly through the café’s windows, casting a golden hue over the cozy, warmly decorated interior.

Y/N was behind the counter, her hands busy arranging freshly baked pastries and preparing coffee.

The gentle hum of the espresso machine and the clinking of cups created a comforting backdrop. When the bell above the door jingled, Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she looked up and saw Alexia walking in.

The café was bustling with the usual morning rush of customers, and Alexia’s entrance was almost seamlessly absorbed into the flow.

Their eyes met across the room, and Y/N’s excitement was unmistakable. She quickly wiped her hands on a towel, trying to steady her racing heartbeat and maintain her composure.

Alexia approached the counter, her demeanor calm but her eyes full of warmth. “Hola, Y/N. ¿Cómo estás?” (Hi, Y/N. How are you?)

Y/N’s face brightened instantly. “Hola, Alexia. Estoy bien. ¿Y tú?” (Hi, Alexia. I’m good. And you?)

Alexia’s smile was radiant, and her gaze lingered a moment longer than usual. “Muy bien, gracias. Solo quería pasar a verte y ver cómo estás.” (I’m well, thank you. I just wanted to come by and see how you’re doing.)

Before they could dive deeper into conversation, Eli emerged from the back room. Her friendly demeanor shifted to one of concern as she saw Alexia at the counter.

Her expression hardened slightly, a clear indication of her disapproval, and she approached with a purposeful stride.

“Y/N, ¿podrías preparar un café para un cliente?” Eli pidió, su tono casual pero con una urgencia subyacente. (Y/N, could you make a coffee for a client?)

Y/N looked momentarily puzzled but nodded, moving to the coffee machine. As she prepared the coffee, Eli leaned in close to Alexia, her voice dropping to a serious whisper.

“Alexia, necesitamos hablar.” (Alexia, we need to talk.)

Alexia met her mother’s gaze, sensing the gravity of the situation. “Claro, mamá.” (Sure, Mom.)

Eli’s face was a blend of concern and determination. “Alexia, ¿qué está pasando entre tú y Y/N? Y no me mientas, sé que está pasando algo; puedo ver la forma en que la miras.” (Alexia, what’s going on between you and Y/N? And don’t lie to me; I can see the way you look at her.)

Alexia’s expression tightened, and she took a deep breath before responding. “Hay algo entre nosotras. Fuimos a citas. Mamá, realmente me gusta.” (There’s something happening between us. We went on dates. Mom, I really like her.)

Eli’s eyes widened in disbelief. “¡Alexia, ella es demasiado joven para ti! Tiene 21 años y tú tienes 30. ¡Es una diferencia de edad significativa!” (Alexia, she’s too young for you! She’s 21, and you’re 30! It’s a significant age difference.)

Alexia’s face grew more resolute. “Lo entiendo, pero ella es adulta, mamá. No se siente como si hubiera una década entre nosotras. Lo que importa es cómo conectamos y cómo me siento con ella.” (I understand that, but she’s an adult, Mom. It doesn’t feel like there’s a decade between us. What matters is how we connect and how I feel about her.)

Eli sighed deeply, her concern evident. “Alexia, ella acaba de comenzar su vida aquí, lejos de su familia. Ustedes tienen prioridades diferentes. Imagínate lo que dirá la gente cuando descubran que estás saliendo con alguien diez años menor.” (Alexia, she’s just started her life here, far from her family. You both have different priorities. Imagine what people will say when they find out you’re dating someone ten years younger.)

Alexia’s voice grew firm and unwavering. “No me importa lo que opinen los demás. Esta es mi relación, y no le incumbe a nadie más, ni siquiera a ti.” (I don’t care what others think. This is my relationship, and it’s no one’s business but ours. Not even yours.)

Eli shook her head, her frustration palpable. “Esto es una tontería, Alexia. Lo siento, pero no puedo apoyar esta relación,” (This is foolish, Alexia. I’m sorry, but I can’t support this relationship) she said, her voice tinged with disappointment as she turned and walked away, leaving a tense silence in her wake.

With a heavy heart, Alexia took her coffee and left the café. She glanced back at Y/N, who was immersed in the morning rush, her face a mix of concern and confusion. Alexia felt a knot of frustration and sadness in her chest.

She understood her mother’s worries but was determined to prove that her feelings for Y/N were genuine and that she could navigate the challenges ahead.

——

Later that day, Alba made her way to Alexia’s apartment, the tension between them palpable even before she entered. When she arrived, she found Alexia lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone. Alba didn’t waste any time with pleasantries.

“¿Mamá me dijo que estás saliendo con Y/N? ¿Qué pasa contigo, Alexia? Ella tiene 21 años,” Alba said, her tone a mixture of concern and disbelief. (Mom told me you're dating Y/N? What's wrong with you, Alexia? She's 21 years old.)

Alexia let out a heavy sigh, setting her phone aside as she faced her sister. “Sí, ya lo sé. Mamá ya me dio la charla, y te diré lo mismo que le dije a ella: esto no es asunto tuyo,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. (Yes, I’m aware of that. Mom already gave me the talk, and I’ll tell you the same thing I told her: this is none of your business.)

Alba crossed her arms, her brow furrowing. “¿Realmente has pensado en las repercusiones? ¿Cómo esto podría afectar tu vida profesional, tu carrera?” (Have you really thought about the repercussions? How this could affect your professional life, your career?)

Alexia’s expression hardened as she sat up straight, her defenses rising. “Sí, lo he pensado. Pero eso no cambia lo que siento por ella. Alba, lo que siento por Y/N es real. No es algo superficial o pasajero.” (Yes, I’ve thought about it. But that doesn’t change how I feel about her. Alba, what I feel for Y/N is real. It’s not something superficial or fleeting.)

Alba shook her head, her concern growing more evident. “No dudo que te importe, pero tienes que considerar las consecuencias. ¿Qué pasa si la prensa se entera? ¿O si esto no resulta? Podrías terminar lastimada, o peor aún, podrías dañar tu reputación y tu carrera.” (I don’t doubt that you care, but you need to consider the consequences. What if the press finds out? Or if this doesn’t work out? You could end up hurt, or worse, damage your reputation and career.)

Alexia’s frustration was clear as she stood up, her voice rising. “Alba, sé que estás preocupada por mí, pero no puedo vivir en constante miedo a lo que piensen los demás. Este asunto con Y/N es importante para mí y estoy dispuesta a enfrentar los riesgos.” (Alba, I know you’re worried about me, but I can’t live in constant fear of what others think. This thing with Y/N is important to me, and I’m willing to face the risks.)

Alba rubbed her temples, trying to absorb her sister’s words. “Solo… ten cuidado, ¿de acuerdo? No quiero verte lastimada o en problemas.”(Just… be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt or in trouble.)

Alexia looked at her sister with a mixture of determination and sadness. “Lo haré, pero entiendo que no estás convencida. Aprecio tu preocupación, pero esto es algo en lo que estoy dispuesta a arriesgarme.” (I will be, but I understand that you’re not convinced. I appreciate your concern, but this is something I’m willing to risk.)

With that, Alexia took a deep breath and walked Alba to the door, both of them feeling the weight of the conversation hanging between them.

——

A few days later, Alexia decided it was time to share with Y/N the full extent of her family's concerns about their relationship.

Sitting together on the couch at Alexia’s apartment, Alexia’s expression was serious as she spoke.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something important,” Alexia began, her voice heavy with emotion. “My family—especially my mom—has been really worried about us. The age difference between us is causing a lot of concerns.”

Y/N’s face fell as she processed this. She looked down, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. “I didn’t want to be a burden or cause any issues with your family,” she said quietly. “I really care about you, but I don’t want to be the reason for family problems.”

Alexia reached out, gently lifting Y/N’s chin so their eyes met. “No es tu culpa. Ellos simplemente están preocupados por cómo podría reaccionar el público y lo que esto podría significar para mi carrera.” (It’s not your fault. They’re just worried about how the public might react and what it could mean for my career.)

But the situation intensified when photos of Y/N and Alexia out together were leaked onto social media, a couple of days later.

The once-private moments of their relationship now faced the harsh light of public scrutiny. Y/N’s anxiety grew with every new comment and post.

——

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Y/N and Alexia went to a small, intimate restaurant, hoping for a brief respite.

They had chosen a quiet corner, and the soft glow of candlelight offered a semblance of normalcy. However, their peace was shattered when their phones buzzed simultaneously with notifications.

Y/N’s face turned pale as she read the headlines and comments on her phone. “This is too much,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can handle all of this. The comments... they’re so harsh.”

Alexia’s heart ached seeing Y/N so distressed. She reached across the table, taking Y/N’s trembling hands in her own.

Her touch was warm and firm, a grounding presence in the chaos. “I know it’s hard,” Alexia said softly. “But I’m here with you, and I want you to remember that. No matter what anyone says, we’re in this together.”

Y/N looked at Alexia, tears brimming in her eyes. “Thank you. Your support means everything to me. I just wish this whole situation could be simpler. It feels like we’re fighting against so much.”

Alexia’s expression hardened with determination. “Superaremos esto. Tenemos que hacerlo. Solo necesitamos mantenernos fuertes y seguir apoyándonos mutuamente en todo esto.” (We will get through this. We have to. We just need to stay strong and keep supporting each other through all of this.)

Their hands remained clasped together, the small gesture of solidarity providing comfort amidst the storm of external pressures.

Despite the growing intensity of the scrutiny they faced, the bond between them only seemed to strengthen as they faced these challenges side by side.

——

As the media frenzy surrounding Y/N and Alexia’s relationship continued unabated, Y/N began to face mounting hostility both at her university and from the public.

What was once a space of intellectual pursuit and personal growth became a battleground of whispers and pointed glances

In the university halls, students she once considered friends now avoided eye contact, their conversations halting whenever she entered a room. The weight of their judgment was palpable, and Y/N felt an increasing sense of alienation.

Some obsessive individuals managed to track down her university and began bombarding her with unwanted messages and intrusive comments.

They would frequently show up near her campus, making her feel constantly on edge and unsafe.

The situation became overwhelming, making it difficult for her to focus on her studies and maintain a sense of normalcy in her life.

Outside the academic environment, the situation was no better. Social media was awash with criticism and intrusive comments about her relationship with Alexia.

The constant scrutiny took a toll on Y/N's emotional well-being, amplifying her feelings of isolation. It seemed as if every move she made was under a microscope, and the once-exciting prospect of living in Barcelona now felt like a cage of public disapproval.

At the café, where she had initially found a sense of belonging and warmth under Eli’s care, the atmosphere grew tense. Eli’s demeanor shifted noticeably; she became more reserved and distant, her previously warm interactions now tinged with formality.

It was evident that the strain of the public backlash and the pressure from her family had taken its toll on Eli, affecting her relationship with Y/N.

The café, which had once been a refuge for Y/N, now felt like a place where she was constantly reminded of the growing rift between her and Eli.

The smiles that had once greeted her at the counter were now replaced with curt nods, and Eli’s attempts to distance herself were a stark contrast to the motherly warmth she had shown before.

Y/N found herself navigating a landscape of disapproval and disappointment, grappling with the impact of her relationship on her personal and professional life.

One day, Y/N found herself overwhelmed by the relentless pressure. The negative comments and harsh scrutiny from fans had begun to weigh heavily on her mental health.

Every new post or tweet seemed to amplify her anxiety, and she could feel the strain it was putting on her relationship with Alexia.

Y/N needed to end all of that.

It was late in the evening when Y/N decided to confront Alexia about her growing distress.

They had planned a quiet dinner at Alexia's apartment, hoping for a moment of solace amid the chaos.

As they sat across from each other, the soft glow of the kitchen light did little to ease the tension that had built up between them.

Alexia noticed the unease in Y/N’s eyes and reached out to take her hand. “¿Qué pasa, Y/N? Te veo preocupada.” (What’s wrong, Y/N? You look worried.)

Y/N took a deep breath, struggling to keep her composure. “It’s just that… the pressure is too much. I can’t handle how we’re being treated. All of this is affecting my mental health, and I don’t want it to keep impacting us.”

Alexia’s face fell, and she squeezed Y/N’s hand gently. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m here with you, and we can get through this together..”

Y/N shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s not just that. People are talking and criticizing all the time. It hurts to see how these comments are affecting us. I don’t want this to end badly for you or for us.Your mom and sister are not okay with us,Alexia, your own family!”

Alexia’s eyes filled with concern and confusion. “¿Qué estás tratando de decir, Y/N? ¿Quieres terminar con nosotros?” (What are you trying to say, Y/N? Do you want to end things with us?)

Y/N took another shaky breath, struggling to find the right words. “Sí, Alexia. Creo que es mejor si terminamos. No puedo seguir con todo esto, y siento que estar juntos solo está empeorando las cosas. No quiero ser una carga para ti.” (Yes, Alexia. I think it’s better if we end things. I can’t keep up with all of this, and I feel like being together is only making things worse. I don’t want to be a burden to you.)

Alexia looked devastated, her voice barely a whisper. “No quiero perderte, Y/N. Podemos encontrar una solución, no tenemos que rendirnos.” (I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. We can find a solution, we don’t have to give up.)

Y/N shook her head, her resolve firm but her heart breaking. “I’m sorry, Alexia. This is best for both of us, at least for now. I need time to get through all of this and find peace.”

With tears streaming down her face, Y/N stood up, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision. Alexia reached out to her, but Y/N gently pulled away, the finality of their breakup sinking in.

“I hope you understand, Alexia,” Y/N said softly, before turning away to collect her things. The room felt colder as she prepared to leave, knowing that this was the end of a chapter she had hoped would be different.

As Y/N walked out of the apartment and into the night, she felt a profound sense of loss, both for the relationship she had cherished and for the future that now seemed uncertain.

——

The next day, Y/N walked into Eli’s café, her demeanor marked by a profound sense of determination. She approached the counter where Eli was arranging pastries and took a deep breath before speaking.

“Eli, necesito hablar contigo. He decidido dejar mi trabajo aquí. No puedo manejar más esta situación.”(Eli, I need to talk to you. I’ve decided to quit my job here. I can’t handle this situation any longer.)

Eli’s eyes widened in surprise, and her face softened with a mix of guilt and concern. “Y/N, no me esperaba esto en absoluto. Lo siento mucho. Sé que mi comportamiento hacia ti fue injusto, pero por favor entiende, estaba muy preocupada por mi hija.”(Y/N, I didn’t expect this at all. I’m really sorry. I know my actions toward you were unfair, but please understand, I was deeply worried about my daughter.)

Y/N’s gaze was steady, though her voice was tinged with sadness. “Ya no tienes que preocuparte por ella. Alexia y yo hemos terminado nuestra relación. Ya no estamos juntas.”(You don’t need to worry about her anymore. Alexia and I have ended our relationship. We’re no longer together.)

The impact of Y/N’s words seemed to hit Eli like a wave. Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. She stood frozen, processing the weight of the revelation.

Seeing Eli’s stunned silence, Y/N felt a pang of regret but remained resolute. “Aprecio todo lo que has hecho por mí, Eli, pero necesito alejarme ahora. No puedo seguir trabajando aquí en estas circunstancias.” (I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Eli, but I need to step away now. I can’t keep working here under these circumstances.)

Before Eli could find her voice or offer a response, Y/N turned on her heel and walked out of the café. The cool air outside did little to ease the heaviness in her chest.

Each step felt like a burden, but Y/N knew it was a necessary step for her own well-being.

The decision to leave was painful, but she believed it was the only way to begin healing from the tumultuous events that had unfolded.

——

In the weeks that followed, Y/N sought refuge from the turmoil in her studies, diligently avoiding social media and its relentless scrutiny.

Despite her efforts to bury herself in academic work, her unhappiness was palpable. The joy that once defined her days had been overshadowed by the ache of a love she couldn’t fully embrace.

She felt an overwhelming sense of injustice about the situation, as the age difference that kept her apart from Alexia seemed trivial in comparison to the depth of their connection.

It felt particularly unfair, given that age is just a number as long as it’s legally permissible,obviously.

Eli, feeling a mix of guilt and concern, tried to reach out to Y/N multiple times. She called and sent messages, hoping to mend the rift that had developed.

Her attempts to reconnect were driven by a genuine desire to make amends and understand Y/N’s perspective.

Despite this, Y/N chose to ignore her calls and texts. The situation escalated to the point where Eli showed up at Y/N’s apartment, hoping for a chance to talk things over.

However, Y/N, still grappling with her emotions and not yet ready to confront her, pretended not to be home. The silence that followed was a heavy reminder of the emotional distance that had grown between them.

On Alexia's side, her anguish was clear to everyone around her. She was unfocused on the field and visibly downcast outside of it. Seeing her older sister in such a state, Alba felt the weight of her role in the situation and knew she had to make amends.

Unable to bear watching Alexia like this, Alba was determined to restore the joy and vitality that once characterized her sister.

So one evening, Alba arrived at Y/N’s apartment. Y/N answered the door, surprised to see her standing there.

“Hola, Alba. ¿Qué haces aquí?” (Hi, Alba. What are you doing here?)

Alba looked contrite as she spoke. “He venido a disculparme. Me siento muy mal por cómo salieron las cosas. Alexia está destrozada, y yo también. Me preocupaba mucho la reputación de mi hermana pero eso no debió ser una razón para actuar así.” (I’ve come to apologize. I feel terrible about how things turned out. Alexia is devastated, and so am I. I was just very concerned about my sister’s reputation.)

Y/N sighed, the weight of recent events clear on her face. “Lo entiendo. Todo esto ha sido muy difícil para mí también. No sé qué hacer ahora. La verdad es que tengo miedo de volver a estar con Alexia. La presión y el odio que enfrentamos antes fueron abrumadores. No estoy segura de si puedo soportar eso de nuevo.” (I understand. This has been very difficult for me too. I don’t know what to do now. The truth is, I’m afraid to go back to Alexia. The pressure and hate we faced before were overwhelming. I’m not sure if I can handle that again.)

Alba’s eyes softened with empathy. “No deberías preocuparte tanto por lo que diga la gente. Esta es tu vida, tus decisiones y tu felicidad. A veces, es necesario hacer lo que te haga sentir bien, sin importar las opiniones ajenas.” (You shouldn’t worry so much about what people say. This is your life, your choices, and your happiness. Sometimes, you need to do what feels right for you, regardless of others’ opinions.)

Y/N felt a spark of inspiration from Alba’s words. The sincerity in Alba’s voice made her reconsider her fears. “Tienes razón. Tal vez he estado dejando que el miedo controle mis decisiones. Quizás es hora de que me enfoque en lo que realmente quiero.” (You’re right. Maybe I’ve been letting fear control my decisions. Perhaps it’s time for me to focus on what I really want.)

Alba nodded, her expression encouraging. “Exactamente. A veces, la verdadera felicidad viene cuando te atreves a seguir lo que realmente te importa, sin importar los obstáculos.” (Exactly. Sometimes, true happiness comes when you dare to pursue what really matters to you, regardless of the obstacles.)

Y/N felt a renewed sense of determination, inspired by Alba’s words. She knew that reconciling with Alexia wouldn’t be easy, but the idea of following her heart gave her the courage she needed.

——

After her heartfelt conversation with Alba, Y/N found the courage to visit Alexia’s apartment. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but she was resolute in her decision to address the issues that had driven a wedge between them.

When Alexia opened the door, her expression shifted from surprise to a glimmer of hope. “Y/N, ¿qué haces aquí?” (Y/N, what are you doing here?)

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly but filled with determination. “Quería hablar contigo. Sé que estos últimas semanas han sido muy difíciles para los dos, y no quiero que terminemos así. Quiero intentar resolver lo que hemos perdido.” (I wanted to talk to you. I know these past few weeks have been very hard for both of us, and I don’t want us to end like this. I want to try to fix what we’ve lost.)

Alexia’s eyes welled up with tears, and her voice cracked with emotion. “He estado esperando este momento con desesperación. Me duele tanto que todo haya terminado así. Te extraño más de lo que puedo expresar con palabras.” (I’ve been waiting for this moment desperately. It hurts so much that it ended like this. I miss you more than I can put into words.)

The two women settled into the living room, where they spent hours talking through their feelings. They discussed their fears, the external pressures that had impacted their relationship, and the weight of public scrutiny. Each shared their regrets and the profound sense of loss they felt.

As the night grew deeper, the room was illuminated only by the soft light from a lamp, casting a warm glow over their faces. Y/N and Alexia sat close on the couch, their fingers entwined, finding solace in their physical closeness.

Y/N exhaled deeply, her voice steady but full of emotion. “Alexia, quiero que sepas que nunca quise alejarme de ti. La presión, el juicio de los demás… se volvió abrumador. Pero he reflexionado mucho sobre esto, y lo que más deseo en este momento es estar contigo. Estoy dispuesta a enfrentar lo que venga, pero necesito que lo hagamos juntas.” (Alexia, I want you to know that I never wanted to pull away from you. The pressure and judgment from others… it became overwhelming. But I’ve thought a lot about this, and what I want most right now is to be with you. I’m ready to face whatever comes, but I need us to do it together.)

Alexia’s gaze was filled with a mixture of relief and gratitude as she tightened her grip on Y/N’s hand. “No tienes idea de cuánto significa escuchar eso. Durante todo este tiempo, sentí que había perdido la mejor parte de mí misma. Prometo que estaré a tu lado, sin importar lo que pase. Juntas, podemos enfrentar cualquier desafío que se nos presente.” (You have no idea how much it means to hear that. Throughout all this time, I felt like I’d lost the best part of myself. I promise I’ll be by your side, no matter what happens. Together, we can face any challenge that comes our way.)

They drew closer, their embrace enveloping them in a comforting warmth. The weight of their separation seemed to lift as they held each other, their hearts beating in rhythm. In that intimate moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the lamp and the echoes of their heartfelt promises, they found their way back to each other, feeling more united and resolute than ever.

——

The following day, Y/N walked into Eli’s café, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and determination. The café, usually a haven of comfort and routine, felt different today. She had come to address the rift that had developed between them, hoping to mend their strained relationship. As Y/N pushed open the door, Eli looked up from behind the counter, her eyes widening with a blend of surprise and apprehension.

“Y/N…” Eli began, her voice hesitant and uncertain. “No esperaba verte aquí tan pronto.” (Y/N... I wasn’t expecting to see you here so soon.)

Y/N approached the counter with a steady, determined expression. “Necesitamos hablar, Eli. Entiendo que te preocupabas por Alexia y que lo hiciste por amor, pero lo que pasó entre Alexia y yo no debería haber afectado nuestro trabajo ni nuestra relación. Quiero que sepas que hemos hablado y hemos decidido seguir adelante juntas. Pero también quiero que resolvamos las cosas entre nosotras.” (We need to talk, Eli. I understand you were concerned for Alexia, and you did it out of love, but what happened between Alexia and me shouldn’t have impacted our work or our relationship. I want you to know that we’ve talked things through and decided to move forward together. But I also want us to resolve things between us.)

Eli’s face softened, and she took a deep breath, clearly moved by Y/N’s words. “Tienes razón, Y/N. Me dejé llevar por el miedo y no pensé en lo importante que eres para mí, no solo como empleada, sino como alguien a quien considero parte de mi familia. Me arrepiento profundamente de haberte alejado y si me das otra oportunidad, me encantaría que volvieras a trabajar aquí.” (You’re right, Y/N. I let fear get the best of me and didn’t consider how important you are to me, not just as an employee but as someone I consider part of my family. I deeply regret pushing you away, and if you’ll give me another chance, I’d love for you to come back to work here.)

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. “Gracias, Eli. Aprecio mucho tus palabras y tu disposición a enmendar las cosas. Me encantaría volver a trabajar aquí y reconstruir nuestra relación. Solo quiero que sepamos que, aunque no será fácil, estoy dispuesta a enfrentar cualquier desafío siempre que tenga el apoyo de las personas que me importan.” (Thank you, Eli. I greatly appreciate your words and your willingness to make things right. I’d love to come back to work here and rebuild our relationship. I just want us to understand that, although it won’t be easy, I’m ready to face any challenge as long as I have the support of the people who matter to me.)

Eli nodded, her eyes shining with gratitude and relief. “Lo prometo, Y/N. Siempre estaré aquí para ti. Lo que ha pasado no cambiará lo que siento por ti ni. Gracias por darme otra oportunidad.” (I promise, Y/N. I’ll always be here for you. What has happened won’t change how I feel about you. Thank you for giving me another chance.)

They shared a heartfelt hug, and Y/N felt a profound sense of peace and reconciliation. The warmth of their embrace seemed to dissolve the tension that had been lingering, and Y/N left the café with renewed hope and a clearer sense of direction.

——

Despite the relentless scrutiny from the outside world regarding their relationship and the age difference, Y/N and Alexia grew stronger and more deeply connected with each passing day.

The once-constant chatter and criticism that had weighed heavily on them now seemed like distant, insignificant noise. They had learned to tune out the negativity, focusing instead on the love and support they offered one another.

Their lives began to settle into a new, harmonious rhythm. Y/N found genuine joy and purpose in her studies and work, her achievements at school providing a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment.

Alexia, meanwhile, continued to excel on the football field, her passion for the sport intensifying with each game. The love she shared with Y/N served as a powerful motivator, driving her to give her best on the field.

They had become each other’s most ardent supporters, celebrating victories and comforting one another through challenges.

Their relationship had blossomed into a source of strength and joy, finding happiness in the everyday moments they shared.

One sunny afternoon, after a particularly demanding match, Alexia emerged from the stadium, visibly tired but exhilarated. She was greeted by Y/N, who had waited patiently outside, her face a picture of concern and admiration.

“How did it go?” Y/N asked, holding out a chilled bottle of water, her voice laced with care.

Alexia’s exhaustion melted away as she saw Y/N, and her face lit up with a tired but genuine smile. She took the bottle gratefully. “We won. It was intense and exhausting, but we managed to pull through. How about you? How was your day?”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and affection. “It was good, but honestly, the best part of my day was being here with you. Your presence makes everything better.”

As they walked hand in hand away from the stadium, the cool evening breeze wrapping around them, they felt an overwhelming sense of contentment.

The challenges they faced seemed more manageable with their unwavering support for each other. They knew that, no matter what obstacles came their way, their love and commitment would always guide them back to one another.

FIN

[moon-simmers]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH

As every year this is a good date to remember the daily struggle for the rights of the LBGT+ community. It is also a time to learn about the people who made it possible for us to identify ourselves as who we are today without fear of reprisals or being punished by the law. This month I got involved in the history of Argentina and its different movements for the fight for rights through the 20th century. Here I come to share some important figures, some more known than others, but obviously there are a lot that I have left out of this publication.

Sara Facio (1932-2024) & Maria Elena Walsh (1930-2011)

A couple of intellectual artists that would need a separate publication to go deeper into the subject. Sara is one of the greatest Latin American photographers who with her camera contributed to the creation of the most outstanding photographic heritage of the country. Maria Elena is a writer, singer and composer whose children's songs resonate to this day because they are much more profound than they seem and are still relevant today.

Salvadora Medina Onrubia (1894-1972)

She was a writer, militant anarchist, single mother and the first woman to run a newspaper in the country. She was the first Argentinean woman to dare to write about double sinners, lesbians and adulteresses. One of her most valued plays was Las descentradas, premiered in 1929. There, Salvadora honors her own contradictions, narrating women who question monogamous structures, marriage and the traditional family.

Malva Solis (1920-2015)

She was a transvestite writer who lived for 95 years when the life expectancy of this community in the country was under 40 years old. In 1951 founded the first trans organization on record, Maricas Unidas Argentinas. She has the oldest series of trans photographs in the country, dating from 1940 to 1980, when simply having those photographs at home was cause for being arrested. There is a documentary based on the photographs and conversations with her at her home called "Con Nombre de flor".

Jorge Horacio Ballve Piñero (1920-?)

Piñero was a young man from a well-to-do family of the Buenos Aires society at the beginning of the century. Together with his best friend Adolfo and Blanca, he organized gatherings in his apartment in Recoleta, and was a pioneer of male erotic photography. They mixed the privileged social class with workers, dishwashers, gas station workers, sailors and cadets from the Military College. These three characters were involved in a police case involving cadets from the military college, known as the Cadet Scandal. In the police archives remain captive the photographic collection, intended for pleasure and personal aesthetic enjoyment that tragically proved key to incriminate some friends who just wanted to have fun.

Ruth Mary Kelly (1925-1994)

She was a bisexual woman, who worked as a "Wohoo Worker". Founder of Grupo Safo in 1972, the first Argentine lesbian organization, and of the Frente de Liberación Homosexual (Homosexual Liberation Front). In 1972 she wrote Memorial de los Infiernos about her experiences as a "Wohoo" worker and bisexual, persecuted by the psychiatric-prison system.

Manuel Puig (1932-1990)

He was an Argentine writer and LGBT+ activist, author of the novels Boquitas pintadas, El beso de la mujer araña (Considered one of the most recognized LGBT works in Latin America and one of the best works in Spanish of the 20th century) etc. He also fought against authoritarianism and machismo, and was one of the founders of the Homosexual Liberation Front in 1971, one of the first associations for the defense of LGBTQI+ rights.

Mariela Muñoz (1943-2017)

She was the first transsexual woman to be recognized by the state and given a female ID card on May 2, 1997. At the age of 16 she became independent, and it was then that she began caring for children, teenagers and single mothers. She cared for children who had been abandoned by their mothers, whom she loved and cared for. She raised, during her lifetime, 23 children and 30 grandchildren. In a dispute over the guardianship of 3 children in 1993, Argentina was confronted for the first time with the debate as to whether a transsexual person "could be a mother"

Carlos Jauregui (1957-1996) & Raul Soria

Carlos was a History professor and the founder of the Civil Association Gays for Civil Rights, organizer of the first Pride march in Buenos Aires and an essential figure for Argentine activism. In 1984, he broke with the schemes by appearing in the magazine Siete Días embracing the activist Raul Soria, a homosexual person assumed his sexuality in a public way for the first time. He believed that media visibility is fundamental for LGTB people. Leaving aside the fear and silence that other generations suffered for years. In 1985, Raul would present himself as the first gay candidate for congressman in the country.

Roberto Jauregui (1960-1994)

Brother of Carlos, was a journalist, actor and the first activist for the rights of people with HIV in the country. In 1989 he exposed the inequality in access to treatment at that time due to the price of medication. He played a central role in marches, actions, talks and interviews to demand human rights for people living with the virus. A well-known phrase of his is "Showing one's face is not easy in a society that discriminates, censures and separates".

Cris Miró (1965-1999)

Cris was the first visible trans people that appeared in the media and broke with the "transvestite" paradigm. A dental student, she got involved in the artistic underworld and later studied classical dance, musical comedy and acting. Her career was meteoric: the popularity of revue theater catapulted her to the small screen where she became a sought-after figure in the most popular programs. On June 23rd, a series about his life inspired by his biography was released, available on Prime Video.

Alejandro Vannelli (1948-) y Ernesto Larresse (1950-)

They were the first couple in the province of Buenos Aires to get legally married on July 30, 2010 after the Equal Marriage Law was passed. They met in 1976 because of a triple A bomb in the theater where Larresse was performing with Nacha Guevara, then he joined the cast of Vannelli. At the beginning they did not like each other because of Vanelli's appearance as a wealthy young man and Larresse was the opposite, but opposites attracted and they were a couple for 34 years.

Norma Castillo (1943-) y Ramona "Cachita" Arévalo (1943-2018)

They were the of South America's first gay marriage on April 9, 2010. Norma and Ramona were married to two Colombians, who were cousins to each other. During the dictatorship they both went into exile in Colombia and there they fell in love and lived their romance clandestinely, until Cachita separated and Norma was widowed by her husband. They lived their love freely and even opened an LGBT discotheque in Colombia. In 1998 they returned to Argentina and began to work in sexual diversity organizations.

Feliciano Centurión 1962-1996)

He was a visual artist, a Paraguayan painter professionally trained in Argentina. He grew up in a home dominated by women, where he learned to sew and crochet. Inspired by queer aesthetics and folk art, he used to incorporate household textiles and references to the natural world. She handled kitsch art and languages not considered high art with a great deal of knowledge and sensitivity.

Humberto Tortonese (1964-) , Alejandro Urdapilleta (1954-2013) & Batato Barea (1961-1991)

Batato was an actor and "literary transvestite clown" as he called himself, one of the most important personalities of the underground theater movement of the post-dictatorship years. Together with Alejandro Urdapilleta and Humberto Tortonese, revolutionized the underground scene of the 80's - in places like the Parakultural. They disguised themselves, wore make-up and improvised delirious and strident scenes for the decade.

Sandra Mihanovich & Celeste Carballo

Sandra and Celeste are two singers who were visibly lesbians during the 80s and early 90s. Together they released the albums "Somos mucho mas que dos" and "Mujer contra mujer" which became a symbol of belonging for the whole LGBTQ arc in our country. They managed to be part of the rock scene, an area historically dominated by men. Sandra among all her songs is "Soy lo que soy" released in 1984 composed by Henry Jerman.

[mysticfalls01]

Home

(Ona Batlle x reader)

Growing up in Manchester you couldn’t help but to love football. Football was everywhere in the city.

As much as you loved football you couldn’t see yourself playing the sport however, coming from parents who were doctors you knew how you could be part of that world.

In 2017 you decided to go the States to study physiotherapy with a speciality in sports medicine. You studied in UNC where you worked with the North Carolina Tar Heels.

There you met two British girls who coincidentally also were there, Alessia Russo and Lotte Wubben-Moy. Having other British girls helped you to miss Manchester so much less and you formed an amazing friendship with them.

You made the most of your time there learning new techniques, you used the most updated medical equipment, you worked with many athletes, so you had seen any type of injuries, and you gained experience as a field medic.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

In 2020 Alessia, Lotte and you decided to go back to England due to the uncertainty of covid. Lotte signed with Arsenal while Less signed with Manchester United.

Due to Lessi’s recommendation and your great experience working with female athletes Manchester United offered you a job in their medical squad.

When you arrived to the club you made sure to have a one on one meeting with every girl in the team and that’s how you met United’s new incorporation, Ona Batlle.

At the beginning it was quite difficult to understand her because of her accent and her basic English however, the connection with Ona was there.

You found it cute how she tried to explain to you what she was feeling, what part of her body had she injured and how suddenly each time you entered a room she suddenly got red cheeks.

After being in the club for three months Ona asked you out, your relationship was based in love, commitment, communication and comprehension. You guys had similar schedules as you were working for the same club, you understood when she had to back to Spain for national duties and she understood when you had to stay extra time with a patient.

Eventually you started taking Spanish classes, so you could talk with her and her family and it was worth it as her family came to see her for her second derby.

“Mama te quiero presentar a y/n. Ella es la fisioterapeuta en jefe para el club y también es mi novia” Ona couldn’t help to tell her mother with a smile on her face.  (Mom! I wanted to present you to y/n. She works the club’s head physiotherapist and she’s also my girlfriend)

“Mucho gusto señora Batlle, soy y/n! Es un placer conocerla”  (A pleasure to meet you Mrs. Batlle, I’m y/n!)

Ona didnt know that you had started taking Spanish classes

“Mi amor! No sabía que hablabas español”  (My love! I didn’t knew that you spoke Spanish)

“Empecé a aprender por ti y por tú familia mi vida”  (I started to learn it because of you and your family my life)

Ona’s mother couldn’t help but watch the interaction and she saw the heart eyes that her daughter was giving you. Since that moment she knew that you were the one for her daughter.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

After almost three years of dating you knew that Ona was about to take one of the biggest decisions of her career, renewing with MU or going back to Barcelona.

You always knew what option was she going to choose, so ever since  your last trip to Spain to visit her family you started to prepare everything. With the help of her family whom distracted her for a day and with the help of your fellow British friends Lucy and Keira you landed an interview with FC Barcelona.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

May 2023

Ona was nervous she didn’t knew how to tell that she was accepting Barca’s offer. She prepared dinner in your now shared apartment.

When you came back after finishing your job at MU you were surprised to see the table arranged and to see Ona taking the food to the table.

“Mi amor! I’m glad that you are here! Come and sit down”

You sat down and started eating dinner with your girlfriend. After an hour or so Ona got nervous.

“Mi amor, there’s something that I need to tell you”

“What is it baby?” You looked at her with curiosity

“As you know my contract with United will be over after this season and Barca made an offer. I want to accept it”

“Well my love I also have something. Do you remember the day when your mother wanted to spend a day just with you?”

“Yeah, I remember” she said with an uncertain voice

“That day Lucy picked me up and took me to La Ciutat Esportiva. I always knew where your heart was my love. I had an interview with the head of the medical team. For the interview I had to do Frido’s physiotherapy session and I did Jana’s tape. The girls and I clicked immediately, better than I did with United’s girls and latter I learned they had given a positive feedback to Barca. Last week Barca reached out to me ” 

Ona couldn’t be believe what she was hearing.

“So what I’m trying to say my love is that I have an offer from them. I told them that if it was possible for me to finish May with United I would sign with them the same day as you did and they accepted. That’s how sure I was of your answer also, Lessi is moving to London so there’s nothing else that ties me to United”

You took her hands and spoke again. “I know that I grew here in Manchester and I considered it my home. That was until I met you that I realized that home isn’t a place, it is a person”

Ona was fully crying, you knew her so well that you prepared everything to move to Barcelona even before she said yes to the club. Ona knew that this was the moment. She took out the velvet box that was in her pocket and kneeled in one knee.

You realized what was happening, tears started to come out and your hands covered your mouth.

“Mi amor, I had something else prepared but this moment feels right, this feels like us. We’ve been dating for almost three years, you learned Spanish to talk to my family and my family loves you. You became my rock when I moved to England and you are ready to move from club and country because of me. I love you with all my heart, I didn’t believed in soulmates until I met you. I know that many persons will think that we are too young but I don’t care. So y/n l/n will you make me the happiest girl on earth and will you marry me?”

“Yes! Ona I’ll marry you!!”

You didn't knew where life was going to take you and you didn't cared as long as you were with Ona you would always be at home.

[fl00mie]

Heyyy, got any fun headcanons you'd like to share with the class?? :3

oh god someone really asked this—

i'm not good at all with headcanons unless they come from nonsense situations, out of that i try to attach the most to the canon of every character Dx i might be able to think of ideas that fit them from time to time but it's not something i give much thought to, i tend to forget about it after a while and prefer to read other people's takes instead, but i'll make an effort! ok, here we go

starting from ink

i always think about this line he said in the truce comic about how paradoxical it would be for error to destroy any universe or creation, obviously this is a character trait so that artists can create content with him but certainly the only thing he would achieve would be to create more AUs or alternate TLs. based on this i think that if ink met him he would see him as a potential friend or battle partner regardless of what he may think of him, he would fight with an error who believes would achieve his goal by defeating him.. although i feel that this is something the community (or at least those folks who are passionate about the actual canon of characters) had already taken for granted😅

still talking about what ink thinks about error, he loves that he makes sanses dolls, it makes him think that he doesn't only think about destruction because he takes the time to make them in detail<3 he admires that about him

adding this thing i said a while ago of ink taking swap on trips to outertale because of his passion for space:3 they would be calm nights where swap contemplates the starry sky while from time to time he asks ink things about astronomy, ink would be just drawing, dream could join sometimes! (adressing star sanses topic later)

ofc ink would be a fashion icon, sometimes- in the words of comyet herself, ink could wear a fashion-acclaimed outfit one day and the next day wear just a pair of duds that only HE thinks look good, AND I LOVE TO THINK ABOUT IT!! he likes to experiment with any kind of aesthetic as if he were some kind of canvas for his ideas

he would totally have a sketchbook full of fell drawings, he'd completely deny having a favorite universe or sans no matter how obvious it may seem lolss

about dreamtale hmmm

i prefer to think that dream is someone who is constantly insecure because of something i have already mentioned before, he carries the guilt of not having been there for others when they needed him the most (when nightmare had just turned him into stone and he couldn't do anything about the negativity recently spread across several universes), and not to mention his actual mental age, although he was somewhat conscious while being made of stone he didn't live his life like his brother so i could grant him a certain degree of naivety

that last thing could go hand in hand with the fact that he never learned to read and leads to kinda angsty situations

besides, i still trust that star sanses can work, dream would have eventually felt guilty for how he addressed ink when he found out how he allowed universes with cruel stories to follow their course but he realized that he had a purpose and did not really enjoy the suffering of others (unlike the comic joku made about this), ink would forgive him without problems and they would go out sometimes with swap

there's this 8h long video in spanish explaining everything that's known about dreamtale so far (and that's only the first part lol, i've only seen 4 hours but i plan to watch it all), there's mentioned how love is a neutral feeling that can lean towards negativity or positivity, this gives rise to the possibility on the part of nightmare (we already know that dream is capable of becoming fond of people) that he feels some kind of love -not romantic- for others, proof of this could be how he has come to treat Killer when he's hurt using his healing powers

in general i think that nightmare acts extremely calm and serious rather than someone mocking

also, now that i know a little more about dreamtale's lore, i like to think that one of dream's favorite animals are cats, because of neil!:D (this could indicate a potential friendship between dream and killer lolll)

that last one goes for killer as well!! obviously when he got his happy ending with color

this might differ a bit with error's canon but i love the concept of "allowed anomalies" in the anti-void, i'm planning to do a drawing of this but they would be ink, fresh, swap and sometimes fell, allowed because of fear, neglect, (possible) fond and as a chocolate source respectively

random idea, i always thought that a child in geno and cross' life (separately) would bring them a lot of happiness

regarding geno, this is more of an assumption from how i've seen him act in the aftertale comic, like, we know he's still a regular sans because that universe counts more as an alternate timeline but as time went by he started to act calmer than classic, he gives me mother vibes if you ask me xP so also based on how he behaved with after!frisk(? in the end i think a child to take care of would bring him more peace in his happy ending

and cross! we could say that it's canon because of lux's joke comics, he certainly looks genuinely happy taking care of her. although we can also see how he's somewhat overprotective with her even when she's an adult, yes it would make him happy but it may be a disadvantage/neglect at the same time

also, it's cute to consider how dream and epic can form a friendship based on cross, i haven't seen epictale story but as far as i know cross is canon there sooo i believe in dream and epic as a protective duo over cross supremacy!!

ohhhh god i think that's all for now, i can't think of anything else

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

the swan and her princess (part 2)

summary: Swan Lake isn’t all beauty and grace, contrary to popular belief. And you experience firsthand that as you wage a one-sided war with your “rival” for the role of Odette.

chapter summary: A pleasant surprise turns out to be possibly not so pleasant after all.

pairing: Gwen Stacy (Spider-Woman) x fem!Ballerina!Reader [aka some sort of a messy Ballet!AU]

word count: 2695

warnings: cussing, ballet terms, creative liberties taken since I’ve never been to Lincoln Center and the research I’ve done may or may not be fully accurate

a/n: :D got a little carried away with this one whoops doing this is much harder than i expected this au is taking up my entire brain pls help

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 (pending)

glossary:

Barre: A handrail used by ballet dancers to maintain balance while exercising. One hand is placed on the barre at all times, and the dancer stands beside it.

Kitri: The feisty and wilful heroine of the ballet Don Quixote. When her father Lorenzo tries to marry her off for money, she doesn’t play the victim, but hatches a plan to marry Basilio, the charming barber who has won her heart, and pursue her own version of happiness. As a dancer’s role, Kitri is athletic and demanding. Kitri wears striking red costumes (look them up, they’re really beautiful) and gestures expressively with a fan in a nod to her Spanish heritage.

Don Quixote: Don Quixote is a ballet in three acts, based on episodes taken from the famous novel Don Quixote de la Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes.

Kurta: A loose collarless shirt/dress of a type worn by people in South Asia, usually with a salwar, churidars, or pyjama.

Dupatta: A length of material arranged in two folds over the chest and thrown back around the shoulders, typically with a salwar kameez. Usually worn by women from South Asia.

Right after you set foot in the studio and dropped your bag in the corner, you made a beeline for the cacophonous, eagerly buzzing crowd that had formed around the cast list.

You saw a familiar duffel bag and raised your eyebrows slightly. Surprisingly, Gwen had showed up on time. Miracles really did exist.

Murmurs of disappointment and cheers of satisfaction rippled through the dancers in the room as they dispersed one by one, either wearing an expression of genuine excitement or a mask of disguised regret that they hadn’t tried harder or trained longer.

You pushed your way to the front, your eyes immediately darting to the name next to Odette. Your heart sank as you traced over the curly loops and sharper lines of the handwritten letters.

White Swan/Princess Odette : Patricia Roberts.

Pat…?

Sure, she was good, but she was always a little bit too fast for the pieces. She was brilliant at lightning-quick steps in speedy variations, but couldn’t ‘dance like a flowy fairy’, as your ballet teacher said, to save her life.

And the White Swan was all about being slow and sad and graceful.

Your eyes travelled further down the list, going through the roles of Odile, the cygnets, the general swans, and the royals. Each time, you were disappointed. By the time you reached the end of the list, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit anxious. Your name just… wasn’t there.

You were a part of this, right?

The entire class was taking part in this production. It wouldn’t make any sense for you to not be there. Even if it was just as a regular background swan.

“Can’t find your name either, huh?”

You hadn’t noticed that everyone else had broken off into excitedly chattering groups to start warming up and take their places at the barre, leaving only you and Gwen standing and craning your necks up at the piece of paper that seemed to decide your fate in the studio for the next few months.

You shook your head no, earning a sigh from Gwen that lasted longer than it probably should have.

“Well, we could ask Miss Walker, but she’s not here yet. So…” She shifted awkwardly beside you. You tried to observe her from your peripheral vision without being too obvious. She sounded… tired. Exhausted, really, like she hadn’t slept in a few days and then had to run a marathon around the city. She had done a pretty shoddy job of concealing the heavy dark circles under her eyes — which truly was saying something, because her makeup was usually immaculate.

Fuck. You couldn’t believe it, but for a moment you almost felt sorry for her. Well, maybe not just almost.

“Hey, uh… you good?” You winced at your attempt at a nonchalant tone. Gwen turned to look at you like you had sprouted a third head, slight confusion reflecting in her eyes.

You had never noticed them before, but she had nice eyes, honestly. The expressive kind that could show every little shift in her emotions if she didn’t hide it. And right now she looked like she was about to grin or crack a joke, so you fixed a scowl on your face to ward off any amusing thing she might have been gearing up to say.

The smile in her eyes faded.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Time to poke the bee’s nest. “You don’t sound—”

You were cut off as the studio doors flew open, and Miss Walker, looking extremely hassled, practically sprinted in. Random strands of hair poked out of her unusually-untidy bun, and her glasses were perched precariously on the tip of her nose. She held her phone in one hand and a clipboard in the other.

“Class, pointes on and everyone to the barre right now, please! Finish your second warmup, I’ll be right with you. Gwendolyn, Y/N, may I have a word with the two of you?”

We’re in trouble, mouthed Gwen with a comically scared, wide-eyed, completely exaggerated expression that was very childish and definitely should not have made you want to laugh. You bit the inside of your cheek to clamp down on your smile.

Your ballet teacher led you both over to a corner of the studio, adjusting her glasses right as they were about to fall off. “Okay, so I have some very good news for both of you. You might have noticed that your names weren’t on the final cast list at all, correct?”

You both nodded.

“As it turns out, you’ve been selected by the School of American Ballet to feature in New York City Ballet’s version of Swan Lake! And not selected for just any role — you girls are playing both Swans!”

The words took a few seconds to register in your mind. The sheer improbability of it all was phenomenal — two mere teenagers chosen to perform by the most prestigious ballet company in the world, to dance alongside some of the best professional ballerinas-in-the-making? This was a dream come true; was any of this real?

“You’re joking,” you heard Gwen say beside you. You felt like you were about to lift off and float all the way to the sky when your teacher just gave a broad, proud smile.

Everything after that was surrounded by a hazy glow of euphoric shock — blurred by excitement and lightheadedness and disbelief. You might’ve blacked out at one point, bracing yourself against the wall while you waited for your vision to clear.

Gwen suddenly narrowed her eyes in a wince, squinting as if she had a headache. “I’m so sorry, I have to go,” She mumbled hastily, before grabbing her bag and slipping out of the studio. And just like that, she was gone. Again.

You and Miss Walker exchanged a look of slight confusion, but she shrugged. “Well, you’re dismissed for today, Y/N. They’re expecting you tomorrow. You know where the company is, right?”

“Yes, miss.” Of course you did, which ballerina didn’t? Of all the best aspiring ballet dancers’ dream companies, New York City Ballet was right up there with The Royal Ballet in London, Paris Opera Ballet in France, and the Australian Ballet in Melbourne. In other words: this was a giant fucking deal and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

You’d have to be beyond idiotic to blow it off.

You arrived at Lincoln Center (which housed the New York City Ballet), fresh-faced and a few minutes early. Well, maybe not so fresh-faced, since you could barely sleep because of nerves. Throughout the night, what felt like a million thoughts that were all variations of what if I’m not good enough? and maybe I’m not cut out for this plagued you well into the early hours of the morning.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to see Gwen, looking annoyingly (and most probably effortlessly) put-together and honestly quite fashionable. Did she have to have such perfect eyeliner? Even her hair tips seemed pinker than usual.

“Wow, you’re early for once,” You tried to load snark into your tone but failed miserably, earning you an insufferably relaxed chuckle from Gwen.

You shook your head and focused on trying to find the ballet company’s actual studio. Lincoln Center was comprised of a complex of buildings in a giant neighbourhood that you had never been in before, and the David H. Koch Theater which housed the New York City Ballet was just one of those many buildings spread over 16.3 acres.

You were lucky you two had arrived early, because it took you ten whole minutes trying to find the theater - because, as it turns out, you and Gwen had entered from a separate entrance from the main one. Finally you entered the studio, and for a while the only sounds were that of your shoes squeaking on the shiny wooden floors.

Something that struck you was just how big everything about it was.

The light fixtures that lined the walls cast yellow light all along the hallway, illuminating everything with a soft glow the colour of honeyed amber. Just walking that corridor made you feel like you were approaching a royal ballroom, floating around in a gown that could put Kitri’s costume from Don Quixote to shame.

You finally saw the door to the studio. Someone was waiting outside — a man in an all-black suit with close-cropped black hair and a salt-and-pepper beard. His face broke into a smile as he saw you and Gwen, and without waiting for you to fully make it to the door, he strode forward and clasped your hand.

“Welcome to New York City Ballet! I’m Carlos, the resident choreographer of this company. We’ve been expecting you! Your teacher has informed you of the production we are working on, yes?” He rattled all of this off at full speed in clipped, staccato pronunciations, so fast that it took you a second to register what he was saying.

“Swan Lake, right?” Gwen answered for you.

“Yes, yes. I assume you both know the combinations for both swans?” You nodded maybe a little too eagerly, eliciting a subtle eyebrow-raise from Carlos. “Very good. Come, I will introduce you to Shaoni. She is our support staff, and a former ballet mistress. She taught many young dancers who went on to become famous prima ballerinas. Don’t take her words too seriously; her bark is worse than her bite.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile and pushed open the double doors. Immediately the first thing you saw was a woman wearing a blue kurta with a gold-trimmed dupatta, her dark hair pinned into a bun at the nape of her neck. The thing that stood out most about her was her highly displeased scowl that had her looking like someone had insulted her entire bloodline three times over, spat in her face and then wrecked her favourite tutu.

Forget a simple resting bitch face, this was a prime, next-level display of an I’m-done-with-this-shit-and-I-need-a-vacation expression.

“Good morning, girls. My name is Shaoni Lahiri, you will address me as Miss Lahiri. You’re a bit early; please begin your warmup while we wait for the others. Also, our artistic director wanted to talk to you about your first day, so once he arrives meet him in his office.” Miss Lahiri had just finished her introductory monologue when her phone buzzed in her pocket with a notification.

Her eyes swiped over the lockscreen for a brief second before she tucked it away again, and you could’ve sworn you saw her roll her eyes slightly when she saw the name of the messager. “Mr. Osborn will see you now. The door to his office is in the far left corner of the studio. Try not to get lost, will you?” Even her sarcasm sounded effortlessly annoyed beyond relief.

And just like that, she abandoned you and went over to compare choreography notes with Carlos.

You turned and followed her directions, noticing a polished wooden door near the end wall of the studio. “Hey, wait for me!” Gwen had been busy gawking at the studio and, really, you couldn’t quite blame her. It truly was something else compared to the much smaller one you were used to.

You knocked once and pushed open the door once you heard a voice call out, “Come in!”

The moment the door swung open, you were immediately blinded by the brightest white light you had ever seen. The entire office looked like it had been bleached to within an inch of its life; there were no specks of dust to be seen and everything was neatly arranged in cupboards and on shelves.

“Oh, hello there!” Once your eyes had readjusted, you noticed a man with greying red-brown hair in a crisp suit with a green pinstripe jacket, an orange vest, and black pants. He sat with his hands clasped neatly on the lacquered teakwood desk in front of him, wearing a polite smile.

“You must be the new arrivals, yes? Let’s see, what are your names…” He opened a folder that had been pushed to one side of the desk, flicking through pages. “Gwen Stacy and Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yes, that’s us,” You answered quickly, feeling slightly giddy with excitement as the truth sunk in properly. This wasn’t a dream, you had really been selected by the fucking New York City Ballet. You would be working alongside some of the best ballet dancers in the area. Better yet, you had more than a fair chance at dancing Odette. Of course, so did Gwen, but you were obviously the better choice… it wasn’t personal, really, just that she barely attended a full class and therefore should probably dance Odile instead.

“Excellent, excellent. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Norman Osborn, the artistic director of this company.” He stood up and shook your hand. He smiled at Gwen, but instead of smiling back, she just dropped her gaze, inhaling sharply as if she had been stung.

“Something’s not right with him,” She murmured to you the moment Mr. Osborn turned his back to retrieve a folder from his filing cabinet. “I can’t explain it, just… please trust me. I think he’s going to be a threat to us.”

You felt annoyance flare up inside you, white-hot maelstroms of anger expanding by the second. “Please excuse us, Mr. Osborn. Gwen and I need to discuss something.” You tried to sound as inconspicuous and well-mannered as you could. You grabbed Gwen’s shoulder and pulled her through the door, closing it behind you.

“Listen here,” You hissed, letting go of her. “I didn’t make it all this way and train for an extra four hours a day for three years just so you could blow this off. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re some sort of a package deal. So don’t you dare make up stuff and tell me this perfectly polite man is a threat. Is this some sort of scheme? You make me get cold feet, pretend like you’re dropping out, then when you convince me to leave the company you swoop in and snatch up the role of Odette? Is that what you’re playing at?”

Gwen stared at you in utter disbelief, rubbing her shoulder where your grip had tightened just a little too much. “What? No, of course not. I would never—”

“Okay, good. Now let’s get back in there and do whatever the hell he wants us to do, because this is the New York City Ballet and we are not leaving till we’re done with this production, got it?”

For a split second, intense desperation marred her features and she looked like she was about to cry. Then, just as quickly as it had come, all the vulnerability displayed on her face disappeared — but not from her eyes. Her mouth and eyebrows were relaxed, cool, but her eyes shone with a feverish light that made her look a bit manic. Finally she took a deep breath and glared levelly at you.

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Something about her tone would have sent a shiver down your spine if you hadn’t been so pumped up about this whole ordeal. You dismissed it easily, penning it, possibly, as the sullen disappointment of a plotter whose evil scheme hadn’t gone quite according to plan.

You entered the office again, Gwen trailing behind you reluctantly, and gave Mr. Osborn a big smile. “You were saying?”

He passed you and Gwen two sheets of paper and a pen. “Sign this. It’s a contract that officialises your stay at this company for the duration of this production.”

You signed it eagerly. Gwen, who was studying the words intently, noticed your impatience and signed it too.

“Perfect,” said Norman Osborn, giving you a big smile. Was it just you, or did it look more plastic this time…?

Nope, definitely just you. He carefully filed the sheets away and clasped your hand in a handshake once again. “Welcome to New York City Ballet. I’m sure this contract will prove to be beneficial to the both of us.”

Gwen dropped her eyes to the floor. Probably just her odd headaches acting up again.

Taglist:

@hobiebrownismygod @l0starl @therealloopylupin2099 @theprismyyy

[radgirl-spray]

Rant.

it always gives me whiplash when gringos call me or other latinas on radblog "Republican" and "nazis".

Because they are so sure they are making such the point about us being nazis and bringing conservative and apocalyptic takes on them because we don't want men in females spaces, and yet from our perspective, they are still thousands of people all across latam who simply dissapeared when the north american goverment decided to interfiere in latam's politics which lead to real, actual genocides based on politic stance. Specifically being leftist.

My country in particular had one of the most brutal dictatorships in latam. Over 40.000 people were killed, tortured or simply dissapeared just to prevent socialism, despite the socialist president at the time being chosen democatrically.

Now, women, mostly college students feminists at the time were systematically tortured. I'm not talking about internet persecution or some horrible missgender crime. I'm talking of whole brigades raping 14 to 21 year old girls. I'm talking of soldiers setting girls on fire. I'm talking about men open pregnant women to dispatch the baby. I'm talking about torture and murder.

Why? because they dared to talk about politics, because they dared to talk about contraceptives. About feminine issues. For being Left.

It was also a time where the wrong opinion could get you killed, could mean your children being killed. For being brown, for being indio, for being poor. Think of you neighbour accusing you of hearing certain music and your house being raded and your teenage children being taken to a camp to never be seen again. I'm not talking 100 years ago. I'm talking my parents and anyone who is 5 years older than me.

To this day we are extremely affraid of police and the military. The levels of poverty Latam has are hardly something people in first world countries have seen in a years, because the poverty itself has been caused for said countries and their progress. I'm talking whole neighbourhoods of houses made of cardboard while some first world country leaves a bunch of chemical wasteland just right up the corner where we live so they live better.

Two years ago there was a breakout in my country, it was quite famous. You know the first thing the police did?

They raped and hanged a girl on the street. In 2021.

And then comes some random USA/Canadian citizen and calls you "a republican" and "a nazi".

Did I mention after II world war many nazis escaped to latam and formed whole german colonies for either experimenting on humans or create pedophile nets and raping centers? the more you know.

But we are nazis, we are republicans. Despite the fact that that our indigenous people recognize women as adult human females, that indigenous women were hunted down and used historically to be bred by whites colonizers just like them. Despite the fact that most of us are mestizos, that color and class go hand in hand in latam, that we have a culture heavily based on religious intakes of what's women's place and that we shut up when the men talk, because that's macho culture. We are nazis and we are republicans, despite the fact that their fucking country killed thousands of us because we wanted to try left and to hope for something more than extreme poverty. Shit, we've even been called colonizer by some chicano who doesn't even speak spanish. I mean, what are the odds.

But the white men need to speak, the gringo has something to say, they need us to respect their pronouns and go along with their progress. So they packed their bullshit religion and ship it right down the frontera, and now we have to swallow too. Because we are latinas, we live in the backyard, right? what do we know about the experiences of american dudes in skirts.

[lavampira]

book recommendations

tysm @winedark and @rosenfey for the tag <:

passing it along to @hythlodaes @scionshtola @coldshrugs @likeabirdinflight @lesbianalicent @veeples @narrativefoiltrope @kirnet @disequilibria @jennystahl @elvves @queenofthieves @weird-ecologies @erielake @verbose-vespertine @solarisrenbeth @onceinabluemoony @queerbrujas @oldblood but ofc no pressure!!

1. the last book I read:

GOTH WESTERN by LIVALI WYLE — well. technically, it’s an indie graphic novel. but it’s a western meets magical realism about necromancy, revenge, and the power of love. and lesbians. I burned through it in a couple hours sitting because I was so gripped by it tbh.

2. a book I recommend:

THE HACIENDA by ISABEL CAÑAS — an absolute all time fave book in my heart; I would say one doesn’t even need to necessarily love horror to get invested in this one, since it also involves very interesting critique of spanish colonialism, religion, and class struggles in post-independence mexico only using hauntings as the lens to view it.

3. a book that I couldn’t put down:

THE PRIORY OF THE ORANGE TREE by SAMANTHA SHANNON — I was glued to this book for a solid two weeks despite its length. I have a lot that I would change about the pacing and certain events or qualities of some characters’ outcomes, but it was such a fun fantasy read, and I had a difficult time even moving on from the setting and protagonists once I was done.

4. a book I’ve read twice (or more):

THE SONG OF ACHILLES by MADELINE MILLER — my first time reading this myth retelling was my freshman year of college, so I reread it again ten years later to see if it would still hold up for how much I loved it, and it absolutely did. the perspective of the man standing beside and in love with the hero interwoven with the tragedy of achilles and patroclus takes me right out and the passages that tumblr enjoys to quote from it have so much more impact in the full context of the narrative.

5. a book on my TBR:

OUR WIVES UNDER THE SEA by JULIA ARMFIELD — this poor book keeps getting knocked down on my TBR but I’m determined to read it this year. I’m intrigued by the horror of the protagonist’s wife ‘coming back wrong’ in a sense, and the recommendations based on its similarity to ANNIHILATION, but also the fact it seems to be a wlw scifi horror, too.

6. a book I’ve put down:

AFFINITY by SARAH WATERS — I wanted to like this one so bad, considering how often waters has been hyped up to me as The Author for historical lesbian novels and the fact it delves into victorian spiritualism, but the pacing felt so slow at getting to the point in the plot, and when it finally did, the twist put me off on finishing the end. it’s probably more of a case of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ but I def had to DNF it.

7. a book on my wishlist:

GHOST STATION by S.A. BARNES — space horror quickly became a fave niche genre that I got into last year, so I’ve been very excited for this release, too. I’m also a fan of how barnes writes atmospheric dread and I have high expectations for it.

8. a favorite book from my childhood:

WUTHERING HEIGHTS by EMILY BRONTË — it altered my brain chemistry as a teenager in high school and I haven’t been the same since I read it. I distinctly remember listening to ‘you said I killed you — haunt me then!’ read aloud and having to pretend like it didn’t make me feel so completely unhinged in the middle of class.

9. a book you would give to a friend:

PIRANESI by SUSANNA CLARKE — I was recommended this one by a friend to begin with, so it feels like an even more perfect book to pass forward. I think it’s one of those books that’s easy to get absorbed into even if it’s not a typical genre one would read, and it’s such a life-altering experience to go through with the protagonist, too. the underlying message that we’re all changed by our own trials and we’re never the same as we were before lingers with me.

10. a book of poetry or lyrics you own:

CRUSH by RICHARD SIKEN — it’s taken me so long to finally track down a physical copy at my bookstore but it was worth it because it remains my fave book of poetry to date. I could quote so many lines, after how hard they’ve hit me, and some of them have influenced my own writing or pairings in some ways.

11. a nonfiction book you own:

HAVANA NOCTURNE by T.J. ENGLISH — back in 2015-2016ish I went through a true crime phase in the prohibition era through the foundation of the US mafia, and this is a very informative book on how the mob became tied to cuba and how the revolution affected it.

12. what are you currently reading:

AN EDUCATION IN MALICE by S.T. GIBSON — I stumbled across this retelling of carmilla set in a late 60s massachusetts women’s college after reading gibson’s A DOWRY OF BLOOD and had to give it a try. I’m enjoying it so far; the prose is full of thick emotional yearning and electric chemistry, and the balance in the narrative of toxic mentorship, historical romantic and sensual attraction between women without shaming them for it, and vampiric elements is really fun.

13. what are you planning on reading next:

WHAT FEASTS AT NIGHT by T. KINGFISHER — I only found out the other day that the sequel to WHAT MOVES THE DEAD was even released but I’m so desperate for the next part of alex easton’s story (and how eerily kingfisher writes horror) that it shot up to my next read.

[gravedigginbbydoll]

His Best Girl

Eddie Munson x Latina! OC

AN: Hi. So this lil blurb is very personal to me and my own experiences (and a few of those of loved ones) as the daughter of a latina immigrant. This is heavily based on Your Best American Girl by Mitski. Also I'm sorry for making Steve an ass at the beginning, I just think pre-upside down and Nancy, he was a bit misguided. And to all my immigrant daughters out there: please know that you are not out of place or just pieces and not a whole. You are a human with multiple facets and pieces and parts to make up something amazing. Anyways, like and reblog if you enjoy as per usual. Love y'all ❤️

CW: Xenophobia, stereotypes, internalized xenophobia and anti-latinidad, pressure of fitting in, strenuous relationship with mother, toxic motherly relationship at times, anxiety, bullying. Fear of not being accepted, etc. Mentions of food. Slightly suggestive thoughts.

I stuck out like a sore thumb in Hawkins. It didn't matter that we had lived there for longer than Billy Hargrove, we got more sneers than he ever did. Teased for lunches homemade by my mother, now rotting in a garbage can behind school. Teased for the poncho I wore in grade school, chubby cheeks wet with tears as I sobbed over the laughter. Teased for my mother’s pronunciation of words like Illinois, too many syllables crowded into her mouth for the english language. 

It didn’t matter how far I distanced myself. I stopped speaking my mother’s native tongue, pushing down the hurt I saw in her eyes that now her own daughter was pitted against her. I stayed silent at my father’s snide comments about her heritage and pretended to be busy when her family called. I tried to get involved in cheerleading and dance, trying to show that I too could be part of the American Dream. Yet still, like a birthmark unable to be scrubbed away, Hawkins remembered me as a stranger. 

It seemed like the effort finally paid off when Steve Harrington got interested in me. I wasn’t ugly, but I wasn't Molly Ringwall. He flirted with me after basketball practice, messing with my scrunchy, stealing my pom poms. I felt my heart soar. I’d finally made it. I’d finally been made a resident in my own community. When he finally asked me out, I felt my chest burst with pride, my sense of belonging almost fulfilled. Yes, my home was tense and sad. But now I could exist outside our little bubble without fear of being ostracized. 

Then came the roadblocks. 

Steve liked my hair straight, down and perfected with hairspray. Liked me clean shaven and bare. Wanted me to do makeup like Carol, simple. Wanted me dressed in pinks and perfect baby blues, the style as All-American and feminine as possible. Wanted me to stop carrying around the small rosary and evil eye bracelet I’d hidden from the rest of the world. I obliged, sugary smiles and gut wrenching nerves, just wanting to stay enough, be enough. 

Then it went deeper. Steve wanted to hear me speak Spanish in private, words hushed and filthy, pushing limits I knew I’d be thinking of later in confession. But in public, he only wanted English, urged me to take French at school instead. He never asked to meet my mother, who had showered me in affection despite my cold shoulder. Who only spoke in proud words over me on the phone whether it be about my latest test, my excelling in dance classes, or just my part on the cheer team. And as we went further, he’d scrutinize little things, like the way I looked, the little superstitions I picked up from my mother, the small bits and pieces of her folded into me. 

It all bubbled over the night I met his family. He warned me that they were tough but his mother was sweet. I sat, makeup perfect, smile shining, and careful to seem like the picture perfect girl they’d approve of. I nibbled at the meal his mother prepared, my heart longing for the familiar comfort of my mamá’s cooking wafting in the kitchen, the laughter in the kitchen as she made milanesa or empanadas. Steve’s mother’s cooking felt cold, lifeless. The casserole was lightly salted, and the energy at the table stale and somehow tense all at once. 

“So, what’s your mother do? Stay at home?,” Steve’s father asked nonchalantly. 

I felt my stomach sink. Wealthy mothers in Hawkins didn’t work. They stayed home while their husbands hopped around their business meetings and towns nearby. My smile faltered, but I decided to be honest. After all, they’d know sooner or later. 

“No, sir. She works at an Italian restaurant downtown.” 

“Well, I suppose Italian isn’t all that different from speaking Spanish,” He offered, shrugging. 

My stomach sank to the floor, my heart squeezed. Something about his inflection, something about his writing off my mother speaking English, stirred something in me. 

Steve stayed silent, his eyes begging me to let it go. 

“My mamá speaks English, sir. As well as Spanish,” My voice shook softly, my hands clenched under the table. 

“Ah, okay. Wasn’t sure. Seems a lot of Hispanics nowadays can’t just try to learn the language when they come into our country, for god's sake. But I should have known. You’re such a…well-adjusted girl.” 

I felt the small thread holding together my façade crack. I breathed in, trying to stop myself from screaming. How could such wealthy and lucky people be so small minded? I gritted my teeth. 

“English is surprisingly a hard language. My mother still struggles with it even after living here longer than she did in her home country.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Well, I’m not struggling. Just don’t understand why they can’t come here and assimilate. I mean, when Steve told us he was dating an ethnic girl, I questioned-” 

Steve paled at the mention of this, turning to me and trying to explain himself through his eyes but staying silent. 

I held up a hand, trying to keep my composure, my words cold and my anger boiling. “We try. Plenty. We try to squeeze into your boxes and norms and bend to your will and it’s never good enough. I still get notes taped to my back that say ‘river crossing’ or slurs that aren’t even correct for my heritage. I still get called ‘gorilla arms’ despite waxing and shaving daily since 6th grade. I get spit on daily and if I even look at some of the people in this town, I worry one day that I’ll be dead in a ditch. And I’m one of the lucky ones. My father is American, and I am fairly pale. I was born two towns over, for christ’s sake. I am just as American as you. My mother and any latino who steps foot in this country deserves to be here as much as you, if not more.” 

I felt my hands shake and my cheeks wet as I wiped at them, the mascara I had been wearing smearing a streaky black as I stood, brushing my hands off on my dress, my heart feeling freed, my chest tempted to break open to allow me to let go more. 

“Now if you excuse me, I must go home.” 

I turned and walked out, leaving behind the big house full of dreams of all-star American athletes and nuclear households, tired mothers and fathers obsessed with infidelity. Part of my heart hoped Steve would run after me, apologize, kiss my cheeks and promise to love all the pieces and intricacies of me, promise to stand up next time. 

But he never did. 

Steve never called back, stopped speaking to me after practice, stopped trying to squeeze himself into my life. Maybe it was me embracing the soft curls of my hair and not shaving day in and out. Maybe it was me wearing what I wanted and quitting cheer to join the newspaper, and finding more people who accepted me for myself. 

I won’t deny that it stung how he found Nancy Wheeler, perfectly American girl without any question. Straight A’s, beautiful, sweet, well-off family. I was happy for him. But I couldn’t deny that my chest stung with the idea that no matter what I did, I’d never be her. 

My mother and I started mending our relationship, and while it always had that complicated knot of trauma and things she wouldn’t discuss, it was better than the frayed edges I’d left. She still pushed me hard, she still was stubborn and said things that would sting for a lifetime. I still cried alone when we fought, guilt over her giving up a life and home to make one mine, and yet I still got upset when she would refuse to budge and claim I'd ‘regret saying these things when (she) was dead and gone.’ 

But I felt less like a broken piece of glass trying to fit into a puzzle. 

I met Eddie while eating lunch outside, still sensitive to classmates upturned noses and sniggering laughs behind their hands. I was at the bleachers, enjoying the fresh air and the empanadas I had reheated secretly in the front office. My mom had made the monthly trek to the latin supermarket to get ingredients and stock up on comforts. I was relishing in the flaky dough and savory inside when a voice startled me. 

“What is that smell?”

I felt shame and embarrassment sink into my bones, knowing some of the kids at Hawkins hated the smell of the food I brought from home, claiming it was ‘too weird’. I turned to look at the voice, feeling my voice caught in my throat at the sight. 

Eddie Munson. 

I recognized the outgoing and loud metalhead anywhere. He was what I tried to distance myself from for so many years, trying to squeeze into Hawkins small sect of acceptable behavior and praised individuals. He always scared me, his clear and blatant middle finger to the idea of blending in, his behavior and interests always villainized in this town. But I also respected him immensely and was almost envious that he could do that, not consumed by thoughts of others mistreating him. 

And yet now here he was, about to join the flock of Hawkins xenophobes, it seemed.

He scrambled to sit down next to me, his lean legs climbing over the seats easily as he sat by me. He had a pack of cigarettes in hand along with what seemed to be Twinkie. He smiled down on me, his wide grin causing my cheeks to heat quickly. Eddie was more attractive than the town of Hawkins gave him credit for, his smile dazzling and his eyes a warm brown. He white Reeboks rested against the bleachers in front of us as he leaned back on his hands, smiling over at me. His bangs came over his eyes a little with the wind, causing him to squint. 

“I’ll trade you one of whatever that delicious thing is for my Twinkie. I forgot to pack a lunch,” he joked, dimples popping out. 

I felt my hands clam up as I fidgeted nervously. 

“I mean, sure, but are you sure you’ll like-” 

“Princess, trust me. I love food. And that little doughy pocket you are currently munching on smells heavenly…Please?” 

I nodded, feeling my stomach twist with nerves as I handed him the food, smiling at him sheepishly. He took it with eager hands, his own nimble fingers brushing mine and swiftly handing me the slightly squashed Twinkie. 

“Sorry, it got a little beat up.” 

I shook my head, shrugging. I had pocketed the twinkie, instead focused on his face while he took an eager bite into the dough, his moan coming soon after, his eyes rolling back into his head, his head thrown back. 

I felt my skin heat up to blazing temperatures, my thighs squirming. 

Who knew Eddie Munson’s moans sounded so… sinful?

He turned to me after chewing and swallowing, his eyes sparkling with interest as he sat up and faced me, scooting closer to me. 

“You’ve got to tell me what that was. That was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I need like fifty. Seriously. I’ll give you a free stash if you just bring me one like everyday.”

I laughed, my cheeks still heated and my heart squeezed at the excitement. 

He liked it. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t spit it out. 

“It’s an empanada. My mom makes them.” 

“Em-pan-ahd-a,” He sounded out, stumbling over his words a bit and then grinning at me, his dimples popping up. 

“Seriously though, I’ll pay you to get more of these.” 

Eddie and I formed a bond tighter than anyone I’d ever known. After that meeting, we’d exchanged names and he offered to bring me one sweet each day in exchange for half of my mother’s cooking. 

I was terrified at first, scared he’d turn away a dish or gag at the things she made. But as it turned out, that fear was short-lived. 

Eddie Munson scarfed down empanadas, milanesa, cassava, rice, and soup. He acted as if each meal was worthy of a restaurant, praising my mother's cooking over and over again. I watched with swelling pride as he asked about the dishes and ingredients, how to cook them, and what my favorites were. He took extra care to express his love for the dishes I had assisted with the night before, his sweet words imprinted on my heart like ink. 

We grew from that to more and more hanging out, me being an honorary member of Hellfire, and Corroded Coffin’s number 1 fan. I learned Eddie never got to learn how to ride a bike but could fix cars up pretty well due to working at an auto shop. I learned how Eddie sometimes would visit his dad at the jail but always came out of it bitter. I knew Eddie liked his eggs over medium, not scrambled (‘it looks like brains’), and how he had a tiny chip in his tooth from eating shit at a little league game when he was about 11 (‘I was never athletic, okay?’). And with each small piece of Eddie I got to know more and more, I felt a stronger tug at my heart. A pull to know all the parts of him, to familiarize myself with the calluses on his fingers and the dip in his collarbone. I wanted to consume all the pieces of him and feel our bones lock together. 

One night, I had invited him over to help my mamá and I cook dinner, her over the top doting and affection causing us both to have heated cheeks, his a bright red. She was showing him how to make milanesa, her fingers already coated in eggy breadcrumbs. He listened intently, still joking around and making her laugh. She doted on him despite my fear, affectionately reprimanding him for not wearing socks on the cold floor and having his hair a mess. We laughed and sang along to old traditional love songs wafting in from the record spinning in the living room, Eddie taking my hand and swaying with me in the kitchen. My mother looked over at me with warm eyes, her smile soft and sad. 

I never felt freer than that moment, all the small pieces that made me me visible to Eddie. He looked at me with warm and caring eyes, his smile soft but still bringing out his dimples. He liked me. He liked who I was. He didn’t mind that my mother had an accent or that she was overbearing sometimes, or that she burned palo santo to repel bad spirits and insects alike. He didn’t let Jason stick xenophobic notes to my back without a fight, and never made me feel like I needed to push down my heritage. 

After dinner, I helped my mother wash the dishes while she urged Eddie to talk with my Dad and tour our home. I stayed in the kitchen speaking in hushed tones in Spanish with her, feeling frustration bubble up at her listing of all of Eddie’s flaws. 

He’s too rebellious. 

Ya se, mamá. Pero-

He has too many tattoos.

Sí, pero-

His hair is too long. 

Mamá-

I had just about accepted defeat when she stayed silent for a beat before turning over to me.

“But does he make you happy, mijita? 

I felt my heart skip a bit and a glimmer of hope shine through as I nodded my head and her expression softened. She turned back to her plate that she was scrubbing, looking into the suds rather than me. 

“Good.” 

We sat out on my porch hours after that dinner, our pinkies brushing as we sipped on water, Eddie smoking a cigarette but careful to not let the smoke come my direction. We had slipped into a comfortable silence that was familiar to us. Eddie dropped the cigarette, stomping out the smoke before turning to me and smiling. 

“This was nice. I want more of this. More of us. What do you say, princesa? Be my girl?”

I felt my heart swell as my cheeks burned from my grin, my eyes watering over as I nodded enthusiastically. He pulled my hand closer to him with our connecting pinkies, interlacing the fingers and smiling as I answered. 

“Yes. Always.”

I was on a date with Eddie when I finally saw Steve again. I mean, I had seen him in the hallways in passing, his arm usually wrapped around Nancy. However, I’d heard a rumor that the two had broken up. Steve wasn’t as popular as before and seemed to stop hanging around his group of usual assholes that included Carol and Tommy. But I had never expected to see him at the local mall working at Scoops Ahoy, serving me and Eddie. 

Eddie had a protective arm wrapped around me, his expression guarded as he ordered some ice cream for the both of us. Eddie actively hated the mall, but this was the only place in town that really served ice cream and the two of us combined had a dangerous sweet tooth. He also was aware of me and Steve’s past, and our sour ending. He had soothed and comforted me when I felt afraid he would react the same way to my home and family. 

While Steve rang us up, his expression was pained, which would have been laughable in his uniform if I wasn’t still stung by his behavior. He looked up at me, his eyes sincere as he sighed, his expression guilty. 

“Look…I’m sorry I was such an ass while we were dating. I shouldn’t have let anyone talk to you like that. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I’m really sorry.” 

Eddie’s arm wrapped tighter around me, ready to defend me if needed, his gaze on my face. 

But strangely, I felt a sense of closure. A sense of forgiveness. I didn’t need approval from Steve or Hawkins or even Eddie. I could be all the little pieces of myself and my mother, all the parts of Midwest America and Latin America by myself. I deserved to be whole. 

“Thank you. I deserve to be myself and feel proud of where I come from. I appreciate that you know that now.” 

Eddie smiled softly down at me, kissing my forehead as his expression was filled with pride. He paid and tugged me away from the counter, his smile soft as he handed me my ice cream and held my hand with his free one, the other clutching his own. 

“Sweet treat for my favorite girl.” 

I smiled down at the cone, the phrase not lost on me.  Maybe I wasn’t the All-American Girl. But I was Eddie’s girl. And that was more than enough.

[sessayyys-corner]

GOMBURZA (2023) - MMFF REVIEW

“Vivan Los Filipinos. Mabuhay ang mga Filipino.”

This film is the story of the three martyr priests. Three Filipinos who were part of the native community who were once under Spanish colonial rule and oppression. If you have been updated, or have been listening in your elementary Philippine history classes, it’s GOMBURZA, not MAJOHA. 

Despite it being produced by Jesuit Communications, the film was able to execute (No pun intended) a factual depiction on a turning point of Philippine history without overused emphasis of religion. It was able to capture how the Catholic faith was used as an instrument of oppression during the Spanish colonial period (This was especially ironic considering how return of the religious orders, including the Jesuits, were the reason for the silencing of the secularization movement). What also impressed me is that almost every single detail in the movie, even in the dialogue, came from actual events in history. It is evident that enough research was made to make this film as accurate as possible.

The film’s cinematography was able to capture life during the period whether it was amongst the Filipino liberals, the Spanish priests, the Governor-Generals, or even the three main characters in our story. With every other scenes of the film shifting from light to dark atmospheres, this symbolized the reality of Spanish colonization — warmth, acceptance, and friendship amongst fellow Filipinos; and ruthlessness, inhumanity, and oppression from the Spaniards (and even traitors). Adding emphasis to GomBurZa’s (2023) cinematography is its sound design. Just by feeling the cinema floor rumbling and the deeply-voiced voiceover in the film’s ending segment, this film can come to a point where it deserves its own IMAX screening.

Dante Rivero and Cedrick Juan showcase over-the-top stellar performances as Padre Mariano Gomez (played by Rivero) and Padre Jose Burgos (played by Juan). Both actors have embodied their roles, not only due to the fact that they, especially Juan, share a slight resemblance with the real life Mariano Gomez and Jose Burgos. It is also because that they were able to portray their emotions from having a friendly conversation, to later condemning their unfair arrest, trial, and death.

Pepe Diokno's time and effort in conducting research and including every important detail in the production is evident in the whole film itself, as it was not only ACTUALLY based on true events, but was able to evoke emotion and outrage, just like how the Filipinos of the 1870s did at the time.

With all of this said, GomBurZa (2023) is not only a history lesson, but also an immersion into the Spanish colonial rule and the lives of the three priests. Being a history nerd and a cinephile who has since learned the names of the three martyr priests as a little girl in elementary, I can definitely say that this was one of the only film experiences where I had witnessed the breaking of the fourth wall. The whole time I was in the cinema, it felt like I was part of their conversation, like I was a witness to their lives and execution.

What also added to this experience was that I watched the film on Rizal Day, and what better way to commemorate our national hero's contribution to Philippine independence than to learn about where it all started? Like what I always preached to my family:

Without GomBurZa, there will be no Jose Rizal. Without Jose Rizal, there would be no Andres Bonifacio. Without all of them, the Philippines and the Filipino would not exist.

GomBurZa (2023) is a cathartic experience that is definitely for the family. This film is a testament to the importance of appreciating and learning our history. Hopefully it serves as a reminder of our collective past, national identity, and the importance of our freedom.

[Metro Manila Film Festival 2023]

(my film review of "GomBurZa" is also available on letterboxd!)

[dailyanarchistposts]

I.8.1 Is the Spanish Revolution inapplicable as a model for modern societies?

Quite the reverse. More urban workers took part in the revolution than in the countryside. So while it is true that collectivisation was extensive in rural areas, the revolution also made its mark in urban areas and in industry.

In total, the “regions most affected” by collectivisation “were Catalonia and Aragón, where about 70 per cent of the workforce was involved. The total for the whole of Republican territory was nearly 800,000 on the land and a little more than a million in industry. In Barcelona workers’ committees took over all the services, the oil monopoly, the shipping companies, heavy engineering firms such as Volcano, the Ford motor company, chemical companies, the textile industry and a host of smaller enterprises … Services such as water, gas and electricity were working under new management within hours of the storming of the Atarazanas barracks … a conversion of appropriate factories to war production meant that metallurgical concerns had started to produce armed cars by 22 July … The industrial workers of Catalonia were the most skilled in Spain … One of the most impressive feats of those early days was the resurrection of the public transport system at a time when the streets were still littered and barricaded.” Five days after the fighting had stopped, 700 tramcars rather than the usual 600, all painted in the black-and-red colours of the CNT-FAI, were operating in Barcelona. [Antony Beevor, The Spanish Civil War, pp. 91–2]

About 75% of Spanish industry was concentrated in Catalonia, the stronghold of the anarchist labour movement, and widespread collectivisation of factories took place there. As Sam Dolgoff rightly observed, this “refutes decisively the allegation that anarchist organisational principles are not applicable to industrial areas, and if at all, only in primitive agrarian societies or in isolated experimental communities.” [The Anarchist Collectives, pp. 7–8] According to Augustin Souchy:

“It is no simple matter to collectivise and place on firm foundations an industry employing almost a quarter of a million textile workers in scores of factories scattered in numerous cities. But the Barcelona syndicalist textile union accomplished this feat in a short time. It was a tremendously significant experiment. The dictatorship of the bosses was toppled, and wages, working conditions and production were determined by the workers and their elected delegates. All functionaries had to carry out the instructions of the membership and report back directly to the men on the job and union meetings. The collectivisation of the textile industry shatters once and for all the legend that the workers are incapable of administrating a great and complex corporation.” [Op. Cit., p. 94]

Moreover, Spain in the 1930s was not a backward, peasant country, as is sometimes supposed. Between 1910 and 1930, the industrial working class more than doubled to over 2,500,000. This represented just over 26% of the working population (compared to 16% twenty years previously). In 1930, only 45% of the working population were engaged in agriculture. [Ronald Fraser, The Blood of Spain, p. 38] In Catalonia alone, 200,000 workers were employed in the textile industry and 70,000 in metal-working and machinery manufacturing. This was very different than the situation in Russia at the end of World War I, where the urban working class made up only 10% of the population.

Capitalist social relations had also penetrated the rural economy by the 1930s with agriculture oriented to the world market and approximately 90% of farm land in the hands of the bourgeoisie. [Fraser, Op. Cit., p. 37] So by 1936 agriculture was predominately capitalist, with Spanish agribusiness employing large numbers of labourers who either did not own enough land to support themselves or where landless. The labour movement in the Spanish countryside in the 1930s was precisely based on this large population of rural wage-earners (the socialist UGT land workers union had 451,000 members in 1933, 40% of its total membership, for example). In Russia at the time of the revolution of 1917, agriculture mostly consisted of small farms on which peasant families worked mainly for their own subsistence, bartering or selling their surplus.

Therefore the Spanish Revolution cannot be dismissed as a product a of pre-industrial society. The urban collectivisations occurred predominately in the most heavily industrialised part of Spain and indicate that anarchist ideas are applicable to modern societies Indeed, comforting Marxist myths aside, the CNT organised most of the unionised urban working class and, internally, agricultural workers were a minority of its membership (by 1936, the CNT was making inroads in Madrid, previously a socialist stronghold while the UGT main area of growth in the 1930s was with, ironically, rural workers). The revolution in Spain was the work (mostly) of rural and urban wage labourers (joined with poor peasants) fighting a well developed capitalist system.

In summary, then, the anarchist revolution in Spain has many lessons for revolutionaries in developed capitalist countries and cannot be dismissed as a product of industrial backwardness. The main strength lay of the anarchist movement was in urban areas and, unsurprisingly, the social revolution took place in both the most heavily industrialised areas as well as on the land.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

i know you mentioned in the past on this blog you're multilingual and i was wondering if you had any tips and tricks for learning/picking a language to learn or resources as someone whose major surrounds linguistics?

Did someone mention languages? Oh hell yes. I

How to pick a language to learn

This is really about as subjective as it gets because there are plenty of reasons to learn a language. Job relocations, a romantic partner, fun, etc. I've literally picked up learning a language just because I enjoyed a song and thought the language was beautiful (Brazilian Portuguese) so really it just depends on you and you alone.

If you like anime and want to watch without subtitles, learn Japanese.

If you want to learn Turkish because you enjoy films from the country, learn Turkish.

If you're trying to learn Mandarin because of long-term work benefits, learn Mandarin.

And if you're really having that hard of a time picking, you can do a coin toss or a raffle generator to help you pick between the handful you're interested in. But you'll usually find it easier and more fun learning a language you're actually invested in. But should you ever run into the problem of being forced to learn a language, I do have tips on a separate blog on what to do then that you can read here.

What are your goals?

I would first decide what your goals are for learning a language.

Listening, Reading, Writing and Speaking are all separate abilities. You can read Arabic perfectly but then the moment someone starts speaking to you, you're completely lost. You can be auditorily fluent but be unable to read and write.

Fluency is really a big word here in linguistics as what fluency looks like to one person, might not be fluency for someone else.

So I would figure out what your goals for learning a language are. If you want to learn Italian so you can an untranslated copy of Dante's Inferno, then you don't necessarily have to focus on listening and speaking skills. On the flip side, if you're just trying to learn Japanese because you want to watch anime without subtitles,

I personally wanted to watch Chinese films and dramas without worrying about subtitles, so I don't really focus on reading and writing skills and my speaking abilities are kind losin' their edge. But that's fine with me since I personally only want to watch stuff in Mandarin.

But because I do plan on working in Japan after I graduate, I try to maintain all my skills in all four of those categories. Same for Spanish as there are native Spanish speakers in my life I remain in contact with constantly.

Figure out what kind of learner you are and the type of instruction that suits you best

If you ever get the chance to take an elective surrounding Second Language Teaching or Second Language Learning, I recommend it. If not, I recommend the book Techniques and Principles in Language Teaching.

Once you take this class, you never really look at any language class you take the same way ever again. You'll be wondering if your class is one that centers around the Grammar Translation Method, the Audiolingual Method, Content-based Instruction, is this a class that involves Critical Pedagogy?

Because once you become aware of those methods and whether or not you are compatible with them, you'll see how your progress fluctates.

There's also whether or not you consider yourself a kinetic or visual learner, and so on and so forth. How one person learns might not be applicable for you, so their tips and tricks that help them learn a language faster might do nothing but inhibit you.

So I would experiment with any tips you come across and keep what does help you, toss out what doesn't.

Expect the plateau, don't be discouraged

When you are first learning a language, it goes pretty fast because everything is new and. But eventually you are going to notice that your progress is stagnating and you aren't learning nearly as much as you used to and you may begin to feel discouraged or begin slacking off because of it.

The plateau happens to all of us, so don't worry if it ever happens to you.

There are plenty of tips you can find online from various people how to overcome a language plateau, so I'll just list my personal methods of trying to shake things up:

Try learning your native tongue through your target language

Find more entertainment-based resources to encourage you to study like movies, youtubers, reality tv shows in your target language, try reading a book in it, etc.

Get out of your comfort zone. Complacency is the enemy here

Try finding new mini-goals to boost your learning

If you haven't already, try journaling in your target language

I'm assuming if you're following this blog, you're probably really interested in Japanese or Chinese since I mostly write content for Japanese anime and some Chinese games like Genshin but I do have some fun entertainment resources for the other languages I know/am learning. I don't wanna make this ask response too long though so if you're interested in that, let a girl know and I will get to channel reccing

[elmaestrostan]

@protect-daniel-james

Now I’ve not listened to the audio with full understanding because my Spanish isn’t quite that level, but there’s some parts they’ve put into the accompanying article that are just lovely.

Unai Emery: "The management of egos begins in oneself"

We talked about soccer and cycling with Villarreal's coach

SER Ciclista we like to get to know our guests in depth. The one in this episode is one of the most international and award-winning soccer coaches of our football, Unai Emery. He has trained Lorca, U. D. Almería, Valencia C. F., Spartak of Moscow, Seville F. C., Paris Saint Germain, Arsenal F. C. and Villarreal C. F., with which this season he maintains a brilliant trajectory in the League and Champions League, after being proclaimed last season champion of the UEFA Europa League for the first time in its history.

Unai remembers his worst fall, like all our guests, and for him the memory is associated with "when my aita (father) bought me the first bike, I left the garage, and at 100 meters I crashed into a parked car... I still remember the scare, I would be 10 or twelve years old, I got up scared, and still my father was coming towards me making a fuss...".

He recognizes that "cycling is a very popular sport in Gipuzkoa, in the Basque Country... we love cycling very much, they immediately buy us a ball, a bicycle..." The Gipuzkoan coach is one more link to a family of athletes originally from Hondarribia, a town located on the border with France, hence he recognizes that "my favorite mountain is Jaizkibel, which I always have in my mind." There he uses the bike "to go to the beach or the sports center," or to this first-class port, which he always has in his mind "when I want to demand." Of course, he can't take too many risks on the two wheels "I'm on insurance for my profession, I have friends who make trips in groups, I take care of myself so I don't have accidents and I try to do the tours by stationary bike."

He remembers a funny anecdote, "in Valencia we made a 25 kms outing in pre-season, we went up to a monastery, and Joaquín was the 25 kms cursing me."

Emery's career is, and has been, very successful, but not without difficulties, "when things are easy the merit of doing them is small... In difficulties you have to look for motivations..." He has trained in different countries, where he has had the opportunity to practice languages such as French "which in Hondarribia is one more language," or English "I deepened the base and now it is my third language." With what he couldn't is with Russian, "I'm in a few words."

About the use of our favorite vehicle, remember that "in Paris it was difficult to see a bicycle, in London, if... Moscow is a very chaotic city and because of the climate, it's difficult..."

From the football philosophy of the current coach of Villarreal, a reference recalling a 6-1 defeat at the Camp Nou, "the defeats are overcome, once lived you have to take out the profitable things, it is a negative experience that I want to make positive." And about the management of a wardrobe, "the management of egos begins in oneself, if not managing them begins to affect other people around, clubs, institutions you have to try to dominate or control them."

As usual in our podcast, Unai Emery answers the questions of some guests. Iñaki Bea, a bench partner and then a player in charge, reminds him of those shared experiences, and gives him the ability to make reflections on the characteristics of the athlete, "you have to have innate minimum conditions, then the technical skills, the conditions ... and the ability to improve." Our guest shares a crew (group of friends) with Patxi Vila, a cyclist who made the same trip as him, from active athlete to coach in the Movistar Team, and has long conversations and confidences with him.

Pedro Reverte (former soccer player and now Technical Director of UCAM Murcia) witnessed that transition from player to coach "Unai took the team at the age of 32, being a player, in half table... we had doubts, he entered the locker room and his message was very direct, he set two objectives: the playoffs and the promotion; the team began to achieve results, we got into the playoff, and we got the promotion." From that time Emery remembers that fate wanted his team to play the promotion against the Real Unión de Irún, a team of which his brother is president, "as a coach he owed me to another region, another city, other friends..." and eliminated him.

I would share tandem with "all those who have worked with me," with a special memory of Leo López, with whom he got the promotion of Lorca, "who passed away two years ago." And I wouldn't do it with those who "I didn't have attune in the day to day in Moscow."

One of the destinations in his football career was Sevilla, where he spent three and a half years, and won three consecutive Europa League titles. From there, one of the most popular characters in Spanish football, Monchi, asks him what marked him in his time at the Nervión club. It is clear "the feeling of belonging to the colors, to a team, the fans... the environment helps you to improve competitiveness. Monchi and I did a good tandem, it helped me on a personal and professional level."

Imanol Idiakez is his second in Villarreal and asks him "who would he like to have in the Director's car if he had to play a Tour in a time trial on the last day." The answer is clear, "the assistants or presidents you may have had." His brother, Igor Emery, reminds him of one of his cycling myths, Marino Lejarreta the "Junco de Bérriz", "I saw him in Hondarribia, he always amazed me, it was humility personified." And the journalist of Cadena SER in Seville, Santi Ortega, puts on the table one of the most repeated phrases by the Gipuzkoan, "you have to enjoy the road," recognizing that "he was a currante, he earned the respect of many people." Unai says goodbye to our podcast with an emotional memory for Juan Carlos Unzué, "it's wonderful to hear him."

[calamity-bean]

belated review of 2022

I'd intended to post this around the New Year, which would've made sense for a "recapping the year" sort of post, yeah? Unfortunately, the days around NYE ended up being rather stressful. My cat was sick — she's fine now, nothing to show for it but a few funny bald patches where the vets had to shave her — and so at the time I was far too busy fretting to want to write this. But I figure it's still early enough in this year to reflect on the last one.

I've always struggled with social anxiety. I'm much better at handling it now than I was as a teen — at least, I'm much better at acting chill despite it — but I still often find it very difficult to put myself into new situations or get to know new people. As an introvert, it's just so easy to find an excuse to stay home, y'know? My kitty cat is at home! Why wouldn't I want to stay there with her?

But, for 2022, I set myself a goal. Every month, I would try one new thing. A class, a social or hobby-based group, an activity — something new, preferably something that got me out and about, meeting new people with interests or experiences similar to my own.

I didn't meet my goal of one a month. But I did:

— Join a really great book club! It took a couple tries, but I found one filled with intelligent, interesting, compassionate people who enjoy truly digging into the themes and ideas of whatever we read. The people in a book club, imo, are far more important than the books themselves, and this group truly brings me back to the good-spirited debates and meandering conversations I so enjoyed as a lit major back in school.

— Start dancing! And I have never been a dancer. I have always been stiff and self-conscious about my body; I've never been good at catching the rhythm of music and certainly never impressed on the dance floor of a wedding reception or a club. But I love my dance classes. Dancing with other people (like, holding each other and whatnot) took a bit of getting used to — I've never been comfortable touching people I don't know — but the other regulars at class are all fun and respectful, and I'm enjoying getting to know them. And I'm still a bit stiff, yes, but improving fast.

— Start learning Spanish! For practical reasons as well as simply the pleasure of learning. I ought to have learned better Spanish long ago anyway, better than the very little I knew before, and although obviously much more time and practice are required to get me anywhere near proficiency, I can at least say that I've kept up my Duolingo streak unbroken since the day I started months ago.

— Find a board game group! I've only been a couple times so far, but it's a fun way to spend an evening and I mean to go back again.

— Work out semi-regularly! I don't know exactly how regularly because I don't keep track and I do not fucking intend to. In the past, I have found that trying to hold myself to a strict gym routine was not productive. It created a sense of pressure that I found exhausting and demoralizing rather than motivating, and once I failed to keep to the schedule, I'd give up. So now I go to the gym when I feel like it, go for a walk when I feel like it, do it for however long I feel like it and don't worry if it's been a while. And doing it this way makes me actually look forward to the way my body and mind feel with exercise rather than dreading the obligation.

— Try a few yoga classes! I'm still not sure whether yoga per se is for me, but I think it, or something like it, would be good for me. I get cardio, but I need to find a way to build strength and flexibility as well. I have made a (semi-regular) habit of informal stretching, though, which helps.

There were also a few things that I tried but didn't stick with: a different book club whose style didn't suit me, a social group where I didn't vibe with the people, etc. In those cases, I went a couple times and then decided they weren't for me. But at least I tried them. And I have managed also to find time for my arts and crafts, which are not new things but are important to me.

2022 was not all good for me. I know that this post paints a very rosy view; like much social media, it focuses on the positive to the point of coming off pretty boastful, I fear. Rest assured, my loved ones and I have faced our own sorrows, misfortunes, setbacks, and disappointments this year as well.

But I'm much luckier than many, and I'm really glad to have put myself out there and pushed myself as much as I did this year. It's led to some awkward situations! Some bitter political fights with strangers, some weird first (and last) dates! But also a lot of enjoyment, intellectual stimulation, variety, and acquaintanceships that I hope can become friendships with time.

I have not made a formal resolution this year, but I intend to keep up the new hobbies I found last year and continue trying out new ones. I hope you, too, found something you loved in 2022, and I hope we all find peace, respite, and fulfillment in 2023.

[cu4troisdead]

Hey does somebody nows any articles/info on fandom misogyny, the gatekeep of fandoms for girls and the fake geek girl stereotype?

So basically im making a fanzine based on an incident my friends and I had with a teacher last semester.

Do you know those guys who proclaim they are deconstructed feminists and whatnot but every time you hear them speak a red flag pops up ?

Well my teacher was one of those guys. In one class he started bothering two of my friends because of their t-shirts (a gorillaz one and an nirvana one) and pulled out the classic : “name me one nirvana song” (he also asked my other friend after she had told him that she liked gorillaz and wasnt just wearing the t-shirt for trend, but when he asked her she refused to answer (as she should she didnt need to prove anything to him)

My friend responded aneurysm, and the guy, who was pretty sure she wouldnt know had the AUDACITY to answer : “that’s not a nirvana song”, he even continued saying that it wasn’t after we showed him th song on spotify (he only glanced at the phone istg this man was SO SURE there was no such song) until he realized he was wrong and was all. “Oh AnEuRYsm” (our class is in Spanish he is probably blaming that one on pronunciation)

We called him out on it, because y’know for a guy that claims to be a feminist that wasn’t very taki taki rumba, it was very much pick me behavior cause he really likes rock. But instead of saying oh shit my bad i’ll reflect on it. He spent the next hour of class literally yelling at us about how our generation doesnt know the meaning behind the symbols that we use (which mind yoou it IS a very interesting and important topic but it was NOT THE POINT OF THE DISCUSSION) and when we finally could talk to him to explain that it was a sexism problem and how in this kind of fandom spaces women were treated as fake fans all the time and tested for it, the guy just said that he also got asked about bands and that it was not a problem at all :).

So a big part of him not believing us was the lack of sources aside from our personal experiences and I knda want to throw my fanzine at his face with sources.

Help plz

[xulachics-theblackgirltake]

Being Latina

As a half Puerto Rican, I kind of wanted to touch on "The Myth of the Latin Woman" by Judith Ortiz Cofer. The first reason why this reading that we read for class stood out to me is that Judith Ortiz Cofer is of Puerto Rican descent. In this reading, she talks about the struggles that Hispanic women go through. She touches on how Latina women are portrayed in stereotyped ways in the US. She even talks about her own experience with discrimination as a Latina in the United States.

Cofer details numerous occasions in which she was misjudged or misunderstood because of her ethnicity throughout this piece. She tells the story of a young man who started singing "La Bamba" at her while she was on a bus, thinking that since she was of Latina descent, she would appreciate it. Cofer also claims that because of her race, men have objectified her and treated her like a sexual object.

Similar to her, I wouldn't say that I experience discrimination in the US because I am a Latina, but there were times when people would make small jokes because I was Hispanic. Sometimes people would even call me Mexican because I am Hispanic. It's kind of annoying at times when people are not educated about other people's cultures. Just because I'm hispanic does not automatically mean that I am Mexican. Puerto Rico is way different than Mexico; we have our own culture, food, and slang. The only thing that could be similar is that we speak Spanish and have Spanish roots. Another thing that bothered me was that people would make comments about my hair and be like, "You got good hair because I was half Puerto Rican." I didn't appreciate that because all hair is good hair, or if someone had dark skin and was Hispanic, no one would believe them because they were too dark.

I never really realized that was a problem until I read "The Myth of the Latin Woman." After reading it, though, it did make me more aware that people do create a lot of stereotypes based on a person being Hispanic. Cofer also describes how Latina women are seen as a “Hot tamale” and a “Sexual Firebrand.” That remark can lead to real-world issues such as sexual harassment and domestic violence. 

Throughout the article, she emphasizes her own independence and Latina identity. She explains, for example, how she and her friends would dress up in traditional Puerto Rican attire and dance salsa to reclaim and celebrate their culture. She also emphasizes the value of knowledge and self-awareness in breaking down cultural boundaries and confronting preconceptions. As for me, even though I am half Puerto Rican, I never grew up getting into my culture as much. The only time I would experience that was when I was around my grandmother. When I started high school, I decided I wanted to get closer to my Puerto Rican roots and started listening to more Spanish music, making Puerto Rican dishes, and attending the Puerto Rican Day Parade in Manhattan and Newark. I even went to Puerto Rico, where my family was from. I wanted to celebrate my culture.

I enjoyed reading "The myth of the latin woman” as it shines light on the harmful impact of stereotypes and cultural misunderstandings. It opened my eyes and made me more aware of this issue.

-Tamia Williams

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

Violetta season 1: The rewatch: The conclusion

It's much harder to conclude when you've seen a season 11 billion times, but this is, believe it or not, the first time I watch it all in spanish. Of course I have seen episodes in spanish, but never a full season. So, there was a new experience!

Well...

I've appreciated Jade much more!! <3

I hate Germán more :D

I feel like my Pablangie shipping is fading... which was a little odd. In S1 I've always been THERE for them, but now I felt like I barely cared. Hm. I still appreciate that they got basically more kisses than Germangie combined <3

Napo really be so gay on main that they deleted him from existence in S2

Ok, but honestly, we always call Braco and Napo boyfriends, but I tbh felt the vibe rn of just confused eastern european and his gay best friend. Braco himself doesn't have much vibes of any sorts

Y'all realize Andrea and Gustavo very much still are at the Studio and the characters probably see them every day and pretend they don't know them

GOD how I loved Angie and Violetta's dynamic. Every time I rewatch these shows, I expect to focus on a thing and then I focus on something I didn't think. In SL I didn't think I would focus so much on Lumon in S2, for example. And I didn't think I would focus so much on the aunt and niece relationship but THE TIME IS NOW <3

I keep imagining what would've happened if Angie was there for all of her childhood. How much happier Violetta's life would've been. Imagine how it would have been. She could have told Vilu all about her mom. She could have picked her up from school and take her out for ice cream and lunch. She would defend any bully trying to pick on her. She would teach her so much her dad couldn't. She could've helped her when she got her first period (which I imagine, probably was not a fun experience in Vilu's canon upbringing, she prob had NO ONE to talk to). And with that, Angie could've probably been the one giving Vilu "the talk" and make it a less awkward experience cause she's open to any questions and Vilu would feel more comfortable asking them. Violetta could have more time to develop crushes and Angie could've talked to her about it... THEY COULD'VE SUNG TOGETHER AND ANGIE WOULD HAVE SUPPORTED HER SINGING!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAUGH GERMÁN WHY DID YOU NOT LET HER HAVE THIS CHILDHOOD SOMEONE WRITE A FIC ABOUT THIS ALTERNATE UNIVERSE OR I WILL

The Franletta moments keep popping up and now i'm about to enter the RAINBOW SEASON and you BET I will find even more moments that isn't already there!!

The songs are banging as usual

Gregorio is so much more funnier than I remember. EVERY dance class with him is filled with chaos and I love it.

You know the man we don't talk about? We don't talk about him, he's gone <3

NOW it's time to enter season 2, with

DIEGO

ESMERALDA

MARCO

THE HAPPY VIBES

THE BEST SONGS

DIEMILA

MARCESCA

LEONETTA AT THEIR PEAK

DIELETTA

THE BEST STORYLINES

FEDEMILA BEGINNINGS

LUTY CONTINUING TO SLAY

DIELEON

AND... FRANLETTA AND FRANLETTA AND FRANLETTA AND FRANLETTA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Season 2 makes me so happy. Season 2 makes me so warm inside. It's so colorful, so cozy, always filled with sunshine... not to mention the incredibly queer vibes that has filled the air.

That's why my tag for season 2 is "The epic violetta rewatch 2: the rainbow season"

But before we get into that, you might wanna watch my out of context video? <3 It's much from s1, but I squeezed in some from S3 and like one scene from S2 based on my mutuals' liveblogs. There were some scenes I just couldn't bring myself not to include them.