#Mexican destination

[mexicanistnet]

Tulum, a popular Mexican destination, experiences growing pains. A recent boat accident and violence raise safety concerns. Growth brings new hotels and events, but also illegal development, straining resources.

[kefnut-the-gweilologist]

someone smarter than me must have written something abt immigration mid point nations for lack of a better term

[ironcactuscom]

Iron Cactus Your Premier Mexican Restaurant Destination

[villadelfaro01]

Discover Exotic Mexican Wedding Destinations for Your Dream Ceremony!

Elevate your wedding to a whole new level of romance and adventure with our curated selection of Mexican wedding destinations. From breathtaking beaches to charming colonial towns, immerse yourself in the vibrant culture and stunning landscapes of Mexico as you say "I do". Let us guide you to the perfect setting for your special day amidst the enchanting allure of Mexico's diverse and unforgettable locales. Start planning your dream wedding today!

[accomtour]

Travel to Mexico in February Guidance, Exploring the Charms of Mexico

Travel to Mexico in February – February marks an ideal time to explore the rich tapestry of Mexico, blending cultural festivities, pleasant weather, and diverse landscapes. This article serves as your compass for an unforgettable journey through Mexico in February. Travel to Mexico in February Plan Weather and Climate One of the main draws for traveling to Mexico in February is its delightful…

[tigertigertour]

Destination Oak Ridge: Jalisco Mexican Restaurant

[sillyblues]

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you overhear a couple of spider-people talking about you and miguel

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: inspired by a scene of a drama i saw in tiktok at 11:30 pm whoops here’s a small scenario while i work on that hiding pregnancy with miguel fic

part 2

You hummed to yourself as you walked towards Miguel’s room. You were so excited to talk to him about how your days went and if you were lucky, maybe you’d get to hear how his day went as well. It wasn’t like he doesn’t talk about himself, of course he does, you two were practically the bestest of friends now. It’s just that nowadays, he seemed more stressed and preferred to listen to you talk. Or at least you hoped so. He never really complained each time you rambled his ears off (which was like 83790134 times a day oops).

But a mention of your name in a hushed conversation stops your tracks.

“... [Name] is pretty close to Miguel, huh?” the conversation was actually a bit far from where you stood but thanks to your extreme superhearing, you were able to hear what they were talking about. You tilted your head. I wonder why they’re talking about me…

“Nah, I don’t think so. Miguel doesn’t even seem to like them.” You grumbled under your breath. That’s just what it looked like to others. They didn’t know that you know Miguel’s favourite empanadas are the ones sold by a Mexican granny on a stand right around the corner outside the building. They didn’t know that Miguel actually remembers what you say to him and even reacts to your stories. If that isn’t what you call friends in their natural behaviour, you don’t know what to call it.

“Yeah, it’s probably because they never stop talking. Their mouth just never know how to close for at least 10 minutes.”

“Miguel is probably annoyed at them. I wonder how he manages to keep his patience from running out with them.”

You bit your lip. Yeah, they were right…You admit that you talk a lot and you do feel a bit bad about it. But your friends haven’t told you to stop talking or that you were bothering them yet so you thought it was fine with them. If your friends said something about it, you would definitely stop and try to talk less for them. You were sure your friends would say something if they were uncomfortable, especially Miguel. You believe in them and you believe in him.

“I know right! If I was him, I would…” so you took a step forward and continued to walk towards your destination. Only this time, you weren’t humming.

.

.

.

“Hi, Miguel! Good afternoon! Such a lovely day, isn’t it?” you quirked up immediately as soon as you stepped foot into his office. As usual, he was on top of his floating station. Most of the time, he worked on planning and storing files with Lyla about which planets had been reported with anomalies. Sometimes, he watched videos of his daughter Gabriella and himself despite having already seen them countless times.

Miguel was lonely. You could see that. Sure, he had Jess and Hobie and Peter, but Jess was pregnant, Hobie was busy fighting against the government and being cool, and Peter had Mayday. You try your best to be with him because maybe he would feel less lonely with you around for him. Maybe he would be distracted by whatever you say from his exhaustion and his pain.

You swung yourself and landed on his platform. He was standing with multiple yellow screens hovered almost around him. His hands were on his waist and there was a glare on his face as he stared at it. He gave you a brief glance before turning his attention back to his work. Well, looks like today is a busy work day for him, huh. 

“Hey booo,” Lyla appeared in front of you and waved. You grinned at her. “Hey, Lyla! What’s up?”

“Ugh nothing much, except for Mr. O’hara on his red flood apparently.” She leaned and covered the side of her lips to whisper but it was no use to the said person with his abilities.

“I heard that.” His exasperated response was instant but he didn’t look away from the screen.

“Really? You did?” She asked with a higher and tightened voice with amusement. She then flashed a quick message to you. 

Miguel has been working even after you left three days ago. He wouldn’t take a rest no matter how many times I told him.

What? You looked at the back of his head in alarm. Worry immediately settled in your head and you furrowed your brows. Before you could convince him to stop, Lyla quickly made the message disappear and announced, “Oops, my power is running low. Gotta charge them now, byeeee.”

“I literally just checked your levels yesterday. Come back here—” he was cut off by her disappearing form.

He groaned and in his frustration, he swapped away the nearby items on the table. Most of them were papers but unfortunately, he didn’t notice he also swept away the teddy bear that you gifted him. It was similar to one Gabriella had and you knew this from the videos you watched with him. You thought how nice it would be to have at least a physical reminder of your love and not just ones you can see and hear. 

“I’ll get it, don’t worry!”

From his strength, the bear was flung high and without even thinking you walked backwards as you focused on its direction. You were being stupid because you forgot that you were on top of a floating platform and the floor wasn’t endless. The bear was almost near within your reach and with just one more step, you would be able to get it.

That one more step didn’t step on any solid floor but instead on air and so, you fell but not without the teddy bear in your hands. 

“[Name]!” Miguel shouted and you looked at him and finally, he was looking at you now. He ran at your falling figure with arms reaching out to you and for a second, you thought there was a tinge of panic and desperation laced in his hoarse voice and wide eyes. 

Sticky web was shot at your chest and you were quickly pulled towards him. You were hit against his figure and he caught you in his arms. You stilled and flushed, your ear was pressed against his chest and you could hear his roaring heart that beat so fast. He immediately shook you by your shoulders and yelled at you. “What were you thinking? Why weren’t you looking?”

“I mean, I was trying to catch it—” you flinched.

“Are you stupid? ¿y si te lastimas?” his nails were digging into your skin and his grip was beginning to hurt. You tried to laugh but came it off weakly.

“I just don’t want to see my gift get dirty. Besides, I’m fine—,” you tried to joke, hoping it would ease the tension and calm him down.

“Just shut up! Shut up!” he pushed you away with a growl, “Stop being so fucking reckless. I could have done it by myself. Stop annoying other people by doing stupid shit like this!”

He was breathing heavily, anger so deep in his eyes. Your eyes were wide and tears threatened to fall as you listened until it finally fell once he said his final word. Maybe the realization had finally settled in Miguel’s mind at what he had just said. His eyes widened in panic and reached out to you but you took a step back.

Your head hung low as you let his words sink in. Annoying? You couldn't even laugh bitterly like you usually do in situations like this. They were right. You were annoying him. You bit your lip. Had you been a bother to him all this time? How come Miguel never said anything?

Suddenly, his cold indifference to you was so clear and obvious now. Memories of him visibly annoyed with a frown flashed through your head. The sudden awareness made your head hurt and it burned your heart. It throbbed with a pang and you felt incapable of breathing, the pain overwhelming.

No, Miguel wasn't responsible for telling you this. You should've known better, you called yourself his “bestest friend”. You shouldn't have talked to him. You shouldn't have approached him in the first place.

You were annoying. You were a nuisance. You were a problem.

Stupid. Stupidstupidstupidstupid—

“[Name], I,” he sighed, “I’m sorry. I didn't mean—”

“No, it's fine,” you wiped your tears and pressed the teddy bear you gifted him and wanted to catch for him. You wonder if this bear was also a bother for him. Maybe it was. Everything related to you is irritating. You were tiresome. “I should be the one to say that. I’m sorry.”

“I need to go now. I’m really sorry, again.” With a brief glance at him, you immediately turned around and swung down. You almost ran as you made your exit from his office. You did the know where exactly to go, only anywhere without him and far away from him. Strength had left you once you were outside his office and you walked and walked and walked. 

Maybe if you left, nobody would find you annoying anymore.

[northameicanblog]

Tepoztlán, Mexico: Tepoztlán is a town in the central Mexican state of Morelos. It is located in the heart of the Tepoztlán Valley. The town serves as the seat of government for the municipality of the same name. The town is a popular tourist destination near Mexico City. The town is famous for the remains of El Tepozteco temple built on top of the nearby Tepozteco Mountain, as well as for the exotic ice cream flavors prepared by the townspeople. Wikipedia

[hard--headed--woman]

"I had to fight to be myself and to be respected. I'm proud to say I'm a lesbian. I don't talk about it too much, but I don't deny it. I've had to confront society and the Church, which says that homosexuals are condemned. It's absurd! How can they judge someone who was born that way? I didn't learn to be a lesbian, nobody taught me to be the way I am. I was born this way. I've never slept with a man. I've never slept with a man. Yes, I'm a virgin and I'm not ashamed. My Gods made me this way"

- Chavela Vargas

Chavela Vargas (María Isabel Anita Carmen de Jesús Vargas Lizano) was a Mexican singer of Costa Rican origin, born in 1919 in Costa Rica and died in 2012 in Mexico.

She is considered a leading figure in ranchera music, which she sang with strength and emotion. Her voice, rough and warm at the same time, served her theatrical, passionate and human interpretations of standards from the traditional Mexican repertoire.

"And since I have to say it almost everywhere, I'll say it: my parents didn't want me. I suffered for it".

She has an extremely difficult and conflicted relationship with her family, who do not accept her in any way. As a teenager, she left her country and her family for Mexico. The young woman rejected and criticised the ultra-conservative society in which she lives. Once in Mexico, she began singing in the streets.

In the 1940s, she became friends with the painters Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, staying with them for a while and becoming Frida Kahlo's lover.

At the age of 30, she was noticed on Mexico City's Avenida Insurgentes by the composer and famous rancheras singer José Alfredo Jiménez, who became the author of her main hits. With his help, she performed in the cabarets of Mexico City in the mid-1950s before embarking on the road to success in Acapulco, an international tourist destination, where she sang at one of Elizabeth Taylor's weddings.

Chavela Vargas rose to fame in the 1960s and 1970s, touring the world. She became a well-known figure in ranchera song, to which she gave a new lease of life.

Dressed like a man, smoking and drinking like a man, carrying a pistol, "the lady with the red poncho, silver hair and brown flesh" as the Spanish singer Joaquín Sabina described her, is characterised by her red sarape.

In a television interview in 2000, she came out as a homosexual woman. This is where the text at the beginning of the post is from!

Chavela's career reached its peak from the recording of her first album (Noche de Bohemia) in 1961 until the end of the 1970s. This was followed by a long period of fifteen years, during which the singer, suffering from a heavy addiction to alcohol, interrupted her musical career, which she did not resume until 1991.

Encouraged by her friend, the director Pedro Almodóvar, who compared her to Édith Piaf, Chavela embarked on a world tour, performing at the Olympia in Paris and Carnegie Hall in New York. Among her most outstanding performances was Tú me acostumbraste by Frank Domínguez in Pedro Almodóvar's film Babel. Being a close friend of Pedro, she has appeared in several of his films, including The Flower of My Secret.

Following a final concert in Madrid on 10 July 2012 to present her album (La Luna Grande), she was hospitalised in the Spanish capital with serious respiratory problems. She died on 5 August 2012, aged 93.

I am sure you know at least one of her song, La Llorona !

In any case, Chavela was an immense artist who had a profound impact on music, and I'm delighted to have discovered her, or rather re-discovered her. I listened to some of her songs and they're amazing if you like that kind of music ! And please look her up yourself, she was such an interesting person, I couldn't talk about everything in this post or it would have been too long !

[beraberblog]

ESTHETİCHAİRMEXİCO - DRAGON+ (5)

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[mexicanistnet]

Welcoming 2024 in Quintana Roo promises a celebration. The Mexican Caribbean is the paradisiacal destination more than all others, where tradition, innovation, and hospitality merge to create extraordinary moments.

[steviewashere]

Strawberry Jalapeño

Rating: General CW: Alcohol, References to Sex Tags: Established Relationship, Recreational Drinking, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington gets White Woman Margarita Drunk at Mexican Restaurants, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is saving the last bite for them."

💕—————💕

A new Mexican restaurant opens up a block away from their apartment in 1992. Taqueria Las Palomas. They make it part of their date night circle. Tuesday dates are for the queer bar ten minutes sideways. Wednesdays they’d go to the park on a picnic. Thursdays are for non-competitive bowling that Eddie somehow always turns competitive. And Friday nights, well they’re—

“Margarita nights,” Steve had given. His smirk the size of the moon. His eyes glistening in excitement. His body vibrating with it. “Nachos. And margaritas.” He’d done one of his cute little hand gestures. Nachos was his right hand jumping into the air. Margaritas was his left. Funny enough, those are also the assigned hands in which he consumes them at the restaurant.

Point is, it’s a popular date night activity.

And it’s Friday. And Steve is practically bouncing up and down the sidewalk. Drifting from Eddie’s side. Nearly skipping to the destination. Every once in a while, Eddie has to catch up to him, pull him back by his left palm, and hook their elbows together just to maintain the distance. But, somehow, Steve still gets to the restaurant’s door first.

And, somehow, Eddie never gets tired of it.

Five bucks gets them the nacho platter. Three bucks gets them bottomless margaritas. Which, technically, three bucks gets Steve bottomless margaritas. For two bucks less, Eddie settles for a single Miller. He’s got to get Steve back home, alright? Can’t do that if they’re both wasted. (Steve gets especially drunk and ditzy. Who knew he was such a lightweight in the face of greasy nachos and some fruity little drink?)

They share the plate of nachos. Eddie will sometimes get a small bean and cheese burrito. Sometimes he’ll do in for a couple of carne asada tacos. But, typically, it’s just the nachos. He’s got kind of a light appetite all the time anyway. Steve, on the other hand, will get nachos and a burrito (Depends on his overall mood which one he gets. Mad? The steak burrito. Horny? A breakfast burrito. Look, don’t ask Eddie. He doesn’t know why the eggs and potatoes seem to do it for Steve).

But, because of Steve’s heavier appetite, they tend to tear through the nachos pretty goddamn quick. Which, really, is a shame. Eddie really loves the nachos. He’d eat them all day if he could. That being said, however, he usually lets Steve get the last bite. Usually being the key word.

Tonight, though, the nachos go by pretty quick, as expected. Steve’s got his breakfast burrito halfway gobbled through. And Eddie’s leaned back in his sticky booth, Miller up to his lips, guzzling down some lukewarm beer. Steve’s worked his way through three margaritas, his lips stained a deep pink, and he’s not swaying exactly, but he’s definitely a little bit clumsier. His eyes are pointed down at the plate of nachos.

One chip with all the toppings, jalapeños included (Eddie’s personal hell).

Steve’s fingers twitch on the tacky plastic top of the table. His bottom lip is jutted out. And his eyebrows are creased slightly. He’s adorable.

“Eds,” he begins.

“Go ahead, babydoll. If you want it, you can eat it.” He thinks he gets his point across clearly. Sure, maybe his breath does something a little mournful at the last chip being whisked away from him. But, unfortunately, his stomach doesn’t do well with jalapeños. Never has. Most likely never will.

Steve reaches out his right hand, dutifully, and grabs the tortilla chip in his loose tipsy grip. He brings it up to eye level. Eyes crossing at the little slice of jalapeño. Eddie holds back a chuckle.

Well, he tries really hard. Has to snicker into his can of beer. Steve looks like some puppy noticing a butterfly on a flower for the first time. He might eat it. Might.

Then, oddly, Steve brings the chip back down. He takes his margarita hand. Plucks the jalapeño from the top of the chip, places it on his also pink stained tongue, and brings his eyes to stare at Eddie.

He momentarily looks away from Steve’s puppy dog eyes. From his magenta lips and rose petal pink cheeks and his glazed tipsy sheen to his eyes. Tries to hide how hungry he is, not for the nachos, but for Steve’s beautiful face.

“Ed…Eddie,” Steve is whispering, a slur slightly noticeable in his speech. His margarita palm flops onto the table, patting incessantly at the back of Eddie’s right. “Eddie, gotta—I gotta surprise for you.”

Eddie looks back at him and hums. “What’s up, sweetheart? Whatcha got for me?”

Steve holds out the chip. His fingers are loosely grasping it. It could fall at any moment, really. But he looks like he’s trying really hard to just raise it to Eddie’s face. “Made this,” he murmurs. “Took the spicy thing off.” He knows what it’s called. Eddie should probably cut him off from his margaritas in a second. “‘Ts for you, Eds.” And then he’s bringing it closer to Eddie’s face, so much so now he has to cross his eyes, and jams the softened edge to Eddie’s lips.

It really is the perfect chip. Cheese and guac and sour cream, steak and some of the pico de gallo. And, yeah, Steve took the jalapeño off just for him.

“Eds, you gotta open your mouth. Saved it—Made it for you.”

So, he does. Lets Steve feed it to him. Eddie wraps his hand around Steve’s wrist, steadying his hold. His thumb rubs over Steve’s pulse point, it’s fast and warm. And he looks back at Steve, his eyes dilated, yet full of love.

“Thank you, baby,” Eddie says through his mouthful. Steve’s face stretches with his syrupy smile. Gooey with something. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

“It’s cause I—Cause you were sad, Eds,” Steve conspires, leaning in—his hands spread wide and out on the table. “Was thinking of you ‘cause I like it when you’re happy.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he feels the need to say again. “You made and continue to make me very happy.”

“I also love you. Was thinking about that, too,” Steve says.

Eddie snickers a little bit. Steve’s a sentimental drunk, he should’ve pointed out sooner. A very sentimental drunk. His eyes are shiny with tears and his face is wonderfully pink, there’s guac in the corner of his mouth, his breath smells like strawberries and jalapeño. And he’s probably the most beautiful and kind person Eddie’s ever come to know.

“Love you, too, sweetheart. Now, finish up your sex burrito,” Eddie teases a little. “Gotta get you home soon and take care of you.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve slurs back.

They won’t actually do anything, Eddie knows that. He’ll get Steve some water. And they’ll curl up on the couch and watch reruns of Golden Girls until Steve falls asleep over the length of Eddie’s torso. And he’ll slither out from underneath him, carry his heavy body to bed, and cuddle him with both arms. But in the morning, Eddie will make sure Steve knows just how loved he is.

For now, he just gazes. Lets himself become drunk on what it means to truly and irrevocably love somebody like Steve Harrington.

💕—————💕

[radsoldier]

Runaway

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Summary: you end up in a city you hate but maybe the company makes it worth the while.

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: none?

a/n: this is my first time writting for Jenna and english is not my first language so keep that in mind <3

It was 4am and you were stranded at the airport. your flight was delayed due to a raging storm and you decided to stay the night instead of booking a room. you were used to airports by now anyway.

Your job required you to travel a lot. You were a firefighter and you also worked as a volunteer with the IFRA (International Fire and Rescue Association) so yes, you spent a lot of time wandering around airports.

You were training some mexican units and the weather was horribly hot, so as soon as the job was finished you found yourself desperate to find a way back home. You knew there would be no direct flights from Mexico to Iceland in fucking November so you settled for a connecting flight via New York.

That's how you ended up slouched over a small table questioning every decision you ever made.

You knew the weather in Iceland, you weren't born there but it was the place you proudly called home. So you knew this storm could either be over in a few hours or block all the flights for at least a week. You didn't like that thought though.

You looked around and saw a large group of people walking towards some free seats near you so you made the smart decision of getting up and gathering your small suitcase and the book you were reading. You were not in the mood for chatting with strangers and you felt the need to move your legs anyway so you plugged your headphones in and started walking with no direction in mind. You found a much quieter and less crowded corner and you unconsciously sped up in hopes to get there before someone could spot the couple of empty chairs under some burnt lights. You were lost in your thoughts and inmersed in the music until someone bumped into your side, throwing you off balance and making you drop your book. You turned around to see a small figure crouching over and picking up your book.

"I'm sorry" it was a beautiful voice.

She looked at you and smiled and you just froze.

"Sylvia Plath, huh?" she smiled and your eyes became fixated in the small dimples on her cheeks.

You just nodded, somehow keeping a sense of calmness in your words when you spoke.

"Would say it's my toxic trait but I like to think it's more like my biggest flex."

She laughed and you found yourself unable to look away from her.

"I'm Jenna" she simply said, extending her hand.

"I know" you answered meeting her hand in a soft handshake. "I'm Y/N."

She just smiled, not breaking eye contact.

"It's a beautiful name" she said, disentangling your hands. "Now, Y/N, please tell me we can share that secluded corner for awhile?" she sounded a little desperate despite the playful tone and the lingering smile.

You motioned for her to go ahead and she took a couple steps forward before looking back at you.

"You coming?" her smile made you feel warm inside.

You followed her and sat in one of the chairs, ready to pull your phone out and go back to your playlist.

"There you go" Jenna said handing you the book. "Did you get here too soon too?"

You frowned at her shaking your head.

"My flight was delayed" you answered. "When's yours supposed to take off?"

"In a couple of hours" she said tiredly.

You couldn't help but laugh, earning a fierce glare from Jenna. "She looks cute" you thought.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" you said, still laughing a little.

"No, you're not" she retorted with a smile. "So… Where are you flying, Y/N?" She asked curious.

"Iceland" you said with a happy sigh. " But seems like the weather doesn't like my plans."

"Sure" she snorted. "Iceland seems like an amazing destination, though. Business or pleasure?"

"Neither" you said "well, for pleasure I guess."

She looked at you with a weird look, like she was trying to decipher some kind of mystery.

You cleared your throat and tried to explain.

"I live there. Well, at least when I'm not working or on a mission. I usually go visit whenever I have a few days off."

"A mission?" she said, as if it was the only thing she heard.

"Yeah, well" you touched the back of your neck, unsure. "I'm a firefighter so sometimes we volunteer to go on training or rescue missions."

"Really?" she said, her eyes shinning with a strange glimmer in them.

You nodded, not knowing what to say.

"And you live in Iceland? Whoah" she gestured with her hands while mouting the word "mindblowing".

You had to laugh at that.

"Yeah, but I spend most of the year working on England or traveling, you know" you explained.

She nodded at that.

"Seems like your full of surprises, Y/N" she smiled at you.

You checked the time on your phone only to be met with a notification saying "CANCELLED FLIGHT 18-705".

"Fuck" you cursed under your breath. "They cancelled my flight."

Jenna looked at you serious but didn't say anything until she saw you getting up from the chair.

"Where are you going?" she asked scrunching her face.

"It's almost 6am, I'm getting you to your boarding gate and then I'm calling a friend to see if I can crash at her place" you explained with a smile.

Without saying anything she got up aswell and checked her phone for the info she needed then she started walking toward the gate without much thought.

Until some guy grabbed her arm and started screaming about how he got so lucky to run into THE Jenna Ortega. Her face was showing clear signs of discomfort and… pain? Was the guy hurting her? You inmediately stepped toward them and took his wrist in your hand and with just enough force you made him let go of her.

He wasn't happy, the looks he was giving you made it clear but he wouldn't try anything by the slight fear in his eyes.

"Maybe you should try asking first next time" you said coldly before leading Jenna away from him.

She was quiet and wouldn't look at you and you wondered if she was maybe angry because of what you did?

"I'm sorry, I was out of place but he seemed like a bit too much" you started, smiling tentatively. "I'm really so…"

"Don't be" she cut you off, still not looking at you. "He took me by surprise" she admitted. "Thank you" she continued lifting her face to look at you with some sense of… fondness?

She seemed genuinely grateful and you couldn't shake the feeling that accompained the thought of this kind of situation happening to her everyday.

"It was nothing" you said shrugging it off.

You continued walking toward her boarding gate in a comfortable silence.

"This is me" she said with a nervous smile.

"Be safe" you said. "Have a nice flight, Jenna."

You turned to leave but her voice made you stop.

"Wait" you turned again, now facing her. "Thank you, Y/N."

You smiled at her starting to walk backwards as people you assumed wanted to board the very same plane started filling the space and when you could no longer see her you turned fully determined to find the exit and then call Gio to ask for a ride and a couch to crash on.

Meanwhile, Jenna got seated on the plane when a thought came into her mind.

She forgot to ask for your phone number!!

[kkoffin]

“Bigotry is intersectional. There aren’t a lot of single-issue bigots, people who hate Mexicans but fight for everyone else’s rights. People generally don’t apply this hierarchical thinking to just 1 aspect of their lives, so commonly racism is comorbid with antisemitism is comorbid with misogyny is comorbid with transphobia is comorbid with homophobia is comorbid with religious intolerance, I mean just listen to a Klansman talk about Catholics sometime, or, better yet, don’t. Any marginalized group may be inducted into the tribe to consolidate against a common enemy. But, should that enemy be defeated the inductees become the new enemy. We can see the history of social progress in the US as successively disenfranchised groups demanding and sometimes gaining their rights one by one with reactionaries trying to beat back the tide. Transphobia is recently in rampant in fascist circles, and conservative politics, because with the legalization of same sex marriage the battle against homosexuality is thought to be lost or, at least, at a ceasefire. This gives some cause to welcome gay transphobes into the ranks, but should they seize enough power to strip what few protections trans people have gained recently and the alliance is no longer useful, their gaze refocuses and it’s last hired 1st fired for the homosexuals. And then the African Americans and then the women and on and on, stripping rights from social groups in the order opposite to which they were gained, like the plot of Final Destination 2.”

I’d like to begin by saying; believing women have a right to single-sex spaces is not bigotry. Not believing in a religion which insists in a male and female soul is not bigotry. Believing in sex is not bigotry. Preventing the harms of medically transitioning children, mutilating their genitals, and being caution of giving them known harmful chemicals is not bigotry.

You are absolutely right about bigotry being intersectional. Conservatives, fascists, etc hate women, femininity, gender-nonconformity and homosexuality. Their hatred of trans people is based on this. “Transphobia”, as far as I’ve ever seen, does not exist alone. “Transphobia” is the intersection of a hatred of women, homosexuality and gnc people.

Absolute majority of trans deaths are due to them presenting as women and being killed like any woman walking alone at night would be killed, or the male killer has sex with a trans identified male (often a prostutite), realises he’s having sex with a male, and out of a fear of homosexuality and being called gay, he kills the trans person, so his “secret” won’t get out.

I’ve never in my life seen someone who is fine with homosexuality, fine with women’s rights, fine with gender nonconformity, and fine with femininity etc, but irrationally hates trans people. If you think I irrationally hate trans people, then in theory, this would be me, however i do not believe that insistence on putting women’s safety before the feelings of male people is an “irrational hatred” of said male people.

It’s not that “after trans people, they’ll go after women and homosexuals” it’s that they only hate trans people because they hate women and homosexuals, alongside gender nonconformity. I work to protect these three groups primarily. Both the right-wing and gender ideology hurts all three, in different different but same ways.

Conservatives believe a person of the female sex must be feminine, gender ideology believes a person who is feminine must be female. both reduce “women” to femininity. right wing wants to erase homosexuality via traditional conversion therapy, gender ideology tries to remove homosexuality via gender reassignment and shaming homosexuals for not being attracted to people of the opposite sex, heterosexual people taking over our spaces etc. Right wing hates gender nonconformity because it goes against their norms and standards, gender ideology sees gender nonconforming people and tells them they need hundreds of thousands of dollars of surgery and life-long hormones.

I seek to abolish gender, both gender ideology and the right-wing seek to reinforce it, only in slightly different ways.

I am against gender ideology because I want to protect women, gnc kids and adults and homosexuals. Conservatives hate trans people because they hate women, gnc kids and adults and homosexuals. My movement is not their movement, as it’s fundamentally almost opposite. Although we may share “battles” occasionally, their “winning the war” is not my win. It’s my loss as much as anyone’s. This is why radfems are not right-wing. we do not share ideas with right-wing, we do not share ideology with right-wing. we are fundamentally opposed.

[ena-writes-stuff]

— love in the paddock.

˒ ⌕ amidst the excitement and chaos of traveling the world to support your boyfriend's racing career, you find solace in his affectionate gestures and supportive presence, despite his pre-race anxieties and the whirlwind of grand prix events.

— warnings: female reader, use of his real name

— words count: 1.3k

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The weekend always brimmed with intense emotions and excitement. There was something profoundly exhilarating about knowing that, each week, life offered the opportunity to explore new horizons. It still felt a bit surreal to be able to travel to so many countries each year, all to watch your boyfriend compete in yet another racing circuit. Australia, Japan, Abu Dhabi, Brazil — the list seemed endless, each destination offering new landscapes and cultures to discover. The ability to choose from such diverse locales felt almost magical. Each trip was a unique adventure, a dream come true. As a child, you had fantasized about these distant places, and now, you were living that fantasy.

Yet, despite the constant change of scenery and the perpetual sense of wonder, there was an element of strangeness that never quite disappeared. With every new destination and each new weekend, you marveled at the reality that this was, in fact, your everyday life. The chance to visit countries that once seemed so distant and unattainable still held the power to surprise you. And although you weren’t entirely accustomed to this new reality, you continued to delight in the world's wonders, all while cheering wholeheartedly for your boyfriend’s success on the racetrack.

The paddock at the Spanish Grand Prix was extraordinarily busy — more so than usual. Barcelona, a city already known for its vibrant hustle, seemed even more chaotic on race day. However, there was a glimmer of hope that the journey to the Red Bull Racing garage might be quieter than anticipated.

Amidst the frenzy — the constant noise of mechanics working at a frenzied pace and the fans erupting in cheers with each driver’s appearance —, an unexpected sense of calm descended when you spotted Alexis talking with the engineers. His presence at the center of the action seemed to create an oasis of tranquility amid the chaos. The focus of the engineers and his interactions with them conveyed a sense of control and professionalism that helped dissipate the paddock’s agitation.

Charming was perhaps the most fitting description of him. Every time you saw him in his racing suit, adorned in vibrant shades of indigo, red, and yellow, you couldn’t help but be captivated. These colors had become his signature, alongside the Mexican flag emblazoned on the lower part of his abdomen. He held the white balaclava with casual grace, his dark hair tousled as if resisting control. The number 66, emblazoned on his broad back, held a special significance — a number he had embraced with affection, symbolizing his bond with racing since that first major event where he first used it.

He truly stood out as the golden boy of Red Bull Racing.

“You’ve arrived!” Alexis’ voice rang out with contagious enthusiasm as he spotted you, cutting off any conversation he was having. In that instant, the world seemed to vanish; nothing else mattered but your presence. “Did you have trouble finding the garage? I could have come to get you, querida.”

The softness in his voice when addressing you was a stark contrast to the moments of frustration you had witnessed before. Through the radio, you had heard the irritation and expletives he’d utter when things didn’t go as planned. Yet, when speaking to you, he transformed entirely. His voice became warm and affectionate, as if he set aside the harshness of the daily grind and revealed a gentler, more caring side.

“You look so beautiful. I promise we’ll go to that Italian restaurant I really like after the race,” he said, his smile radiating love as he gently touched the VIP lanyard hanging from his neck. The lanyard, a simple piece, displayed a photo of you with your full name and the words “Alexis’ guest” printed in elegant letters. “You’ll wait for me here, won’t you?”

“Of course I will, silly,” you replied with a smile that conveyed all your certainty. It might have been the simplest question of the day, but you knew how much it meant to him. It was a small tradition between you — a gesture of support and love that made a big difference, no matter how simple. “I wouldn’t miss watching you race for the world.”

You glanced around, taking in the bustling crowd, the people moving with excitement, and the corridors preparing for the practice session. It was an important event for him, and you were there, ready to support him every step of the way.

“Great, great,” he said, repeating the phrase with almost palpable nervousness. When anxious, he fixated on certain expressions, repeating them incessantly — a detail you found endearing rather than annoying. “That’s great, that’s great.”

You watched as he tried to compose himself. “Are you nervous?” you asked gently, running your fingers through his hair. The touch was meant to offer comfort and reassurance. He responded with a click of his tongue, a subtle sound reflecting his discomfort more than effective communication.

He tilted his head towards your hand, seeking the affection you offered as if it were the only thing capable of soothing his momentary anxiety. Your presence seemed to be a refuge amidst his restless thoughts.

“It’s my first time racing on this circuit. I’m afraid I might not qualify and end up not winning and —”

His monologue was almost a constant in such situations. Even before getting into the race car, he was consumed with the worry of potentially failing. It was as if anxiety had already taken over before the race had even begun.

You knew these bouts of insecurity were common for him, but you always tried to calm him. “Alex, darling, today is still Friday,” you interrupted softly, steering him away from the whirlwind of negative thoughts. He fell silent, visibly relieved to have someone to offer support and guidance. His brown eyes, usually sparkling with determination, were now fixed on yours, revealing a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“You’ll only be racing for real on Sunday,” you continued, offering a reassuring smile. “Today is just practice. And it’s okay if you don’t win this race.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing your words. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into a warm, affectionate hug. His embrace was firm yet gentle, conveying a sense of security and tenderness. With a tenderness only he could express, he kissed your temples lightly, his touch soft and comforting. He made no effort to break contact, allowing you to lose yourself in the familiar, reassuring scent of his racing suit.

The moment between you was perfect, filled with a silent, shared love. However, the tranquility was abruptly interrupted by a mechanic’s voice echoing through the environment with friendly urgency.

“Alexis, ten minutes until practice starts!”

Despite the urgency, the voice seemed distant compared to the warmth and intimacy of the embrace you shared. Alexis grumbled quietly, a sound mixing frustration with reluctance. He let you go but not before stealing a series of delicate kisses on your lips. His lips were soft and warm, pressing lovingly against yours. He held your face with both hands, his fingers fitting perfectly to the shape of your face. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sensation of his caresses — a light, infectious laugh that seemed to make time stand still for a brief moment.

You loved when he showed affection in public. There was something genuine and special about how he demonstrated his feelings for you, regardless of the presence of others. It was as if the world around you simply vanished, leaving only the warmth of his love.

“Will I see you in a bit?” he asked, his smile a blend of anticipation and love. He already knew the answer, but the question was a ritual, a moment to reaffirm your bond. As you nodded and returned the smile, he pinched your cheeks tenderly.

“Great. I love you.”

His words were simple but filled with deep, sincere emotion.

“I love you too, always.” Your reply was a promise, a guarantee that, no matter what happened next, the love between you would remain constant and unwavering.