#Spanish language school in Barcelona

[kamotecue]

her, “the one that got away” ✾ a. putellas

summary: the first encounter with alexia putellas, the one you’d soon be her “the one that got away”. williamson!reader

pairing: alexia putellas x williamson!reader

have you ever wondered if soulmates were real? whether it was platonic, or romantic it was always a lingering thought you had. unbeknownst to you, you had already met your soulmate.

‘twas the summer of 2016, where you were in your last year of medical school at the university of oxford, you had requested to do a rotation abroad for elective credit, lucky enough you were assigned to spain, barcelona a city you always wanted to travel to, after hearing stories from international students.

you seated alone in a very bustling coffee shop, the books you were reading was scattered across the table, completely disorganized.

but how could it not be? it was the last year of medical school, after that it’s residency where you could choose your specialty. being an ortho surgeon was something you dreamed about.

nevertheless, you still managed to caught the eye of a certain spaniard. maybe it was the disheveled hair, or how she thought those glasses had suit you. despite being focused on a research paper, the one a professor had assigned your course to read — she made her way to you, to properly introduce herself.

as she cleared her throat, your eyes quickly snapped away from the laptop screen, as you focused your eyes to where the sound came from.

“hola, soy alexia putellas. te vi de lejos y quise presentarme.” you watched, as she stuck her hand out, for you to grab. your eyebrows furrowed as you had returned the shake. [hi, i’m alexia putellas. i saw you from afar, and i wanted to introduce myself.]

“soy y/n williamson, una estudiante extranjeraz.” you spoke fluently in spanish, from a young age you were always interested in different languages, hence why you were a polyglot — always had your mother to thank, as she took you to the lessons. [i’m y/n williamson, a student from abroad.]

“y hablas español con fluidez.” she said, as you softly chuckled giving her a soft smile. [and you’re fluent in spanish.]

“tuve un gran tutor cuando era joven, el español no es el único idioma que sé.” her eyebrows quirked at your words, an interesting person you are. [i had a great tutor when i was young, spanish isn’t the only language i know.]

as time passes by, you glanced at your watch — letting out a gasp. it was time to leave, as you are going to meet with your capstone groupmates, running a bit late you hurriedly tried to pack, as she looked at you with confusion.

“me acabo de dar cuenta de que tengo que reunirme con mis compañeros de grupo de capstone, definitivamente voy a llegar tarde. fue un placer conocerte, alexia.” you said, as you rushed out of the coffee shop, not noticing you had left something behind — it was an important book, luckily it had your contact information on it, in case it was ever lost. [i just realized i have to meet with my capstone groupmates, i’m definitely going to be late. it was nice meeting you, alexia.]

the spaniard had a small smile on her face, as she grabbed the book you had forgotten. what she didn’t realize, the summer of 2016 was going to be interesting, filled with heartbreak, and love.

[a/n: i know it’s a short part, but trust me there will be more. i finally had the time to write, after a hectic semester filled with anatomy]

[holyblonded]

headcanons | birds of a feather

notes: quick hcs to give background on Cecilia and Paige

✧ Cecilia was Paige's tutor in middle school but had to stop cause Paige would just stare at her the whole session

✧ Cecilia is a huge morning person, courtesy of her mom, and wakes up early for a morning jog. This habit eventually rubbed off on Paige and later on when they live together she joins Cecilia on her jogs

✧ Paige never calls Cecilia, Cecilia. At first, she called her Cece but when everyone else started calling her that Paige decided she needed a new nickname

✧ At one of Cecilia's peewee soccer games, Paige and her dad attended after Paige begged him to go. One kid shoved Cecilia and she landed awkwardly in her wrist and started crying, before anyone could stop her Paige was on the field tackling the kid to the ground

✧ Paige's biggest pet peeve about Cecilia is that when she is upset she bottles everything up and doesn't want to talk about it

✧ Cecilia's biggest pet peeve about Paige is that she automatically thinks she's right about everything

✧ Drew genuinely believes Paige and Cecilia are married (cause they told him they were since birth) and calls Cecilia his sister

✧ Cecilia is wickedly good with math and did all of Paige's homework in middle school until their parents caught them

✧ Even though Cecilia spent their high school years in Spain, the two never broke up. Paige even claimed it made their relationship stronger

✧ Cecilia has tried many times to teach Paige Spanish and Catalan but it often ends in a make out session

✧ Cecilia grew up around the Minnesota Timberwolves. Her mom played with the Minnesota Lynx, where she won a championship, before retiring due to an injury. She then coached for the Timberwolves and led them to a championship

✧ Many of the Timberwolves and the Lynx check up on her and some even go to her Barcelona games

✧ Paige believes everything she does should be rewarded with kisses. Even as a kid whenever she won basketball at recess she would go over to Cecilia and ask for a kiss on the cheek

✧ Whenever Cecilia trips up on her words and Paige starts laughing, she immediately says, "English isn't my first language."

✧ Paige takes her naps very seriously and always drags Cecilia into it. It has slowly been added into Cecilia's daily routine and now she can't go the day without one nap

✧ Paige can sometimes get jealous of some of the girls on the team. She knows that they are just affectionate and it’s all platonic but she can’t help but to get that burning feeling in her stomach sometimes.

✧ As kids, Cecilia had a pet rock that Paige had major beef with and still does to this day

✧ When they were kids, one time Paige wore a Real Madrid shirt and Cecilia didn't talk to her the whole day. Paige was so distraught that on their walk home she fell on her knees in tears so Cecilia broke and told her the reason. Paige immediately took the shirt off when they got to Paige's house and she threw it in the trash

✧ Cecilia's dad is a big time retired English football player (think like David Beckham era) and now coaches Bayern (there’s been rumors of him going the Real Madrid) but he is not in her life. She's probably only met him three times and my people don't know he's her father because she has her mom's last name. In fact, the only people that know are her family and the Bueckers family

✧ Cecilia has many little talents. One includes playing the piano and having perfect pitch

✧ After a game, Cecilia always plops down on the field and rests. It's become apart of her routine at this point and the media loves it

✧ Cecilia’s mom, Georgina is a WNBA legend. She went to the University of Connecticut with Sue Bird. She led the Minnesota Lynx to many victories as a teen and did the same with the Spanish Women’s Basketball Team. She met Cecilia’s father at the 2000 Olympics and they started dating. After she got pregnant and her BD expressed his disinterest in the baby, Georgina left and took a leave from the WNBA to raise Cecilia with her support system (Alexia, Mapi, Alba and Eli)

✧ Cecilia has two godmothers and one godfather cause her mom didn't know that many men that being: Alexia Putellas, Sue Bird, and Kobe Bryant

✧ Alexia and Georgina grew up together but Georgina basically lived with them cause her parents never cared for her. Georgina was Alexia’s older sister and always looked up to her. Eli refers to Georgina as her and Jaume’s first daughter because she was raising her before she even had her own kids.

✧ Sue and Georgina played for UConn together and they became a dangerous duo on and off the court. They were best friends, roommates, teammates. It’s was a no brained for Georgina to make her one of Cecilia’s godmothers.

✧ Kobe and Georgina met when Kobe went to the Lynx vs Sparks game. He saw Georgina get her nose broken right before half time, by the time half time was over, she had her nose bandaged and was back in the game and she completely balled out. They have been close friends ever since and he teared up when she asked him to be Cecilia’s godfather

[the-offside-rule]

Pau Cubarsí (FCBarcelona) - Wake Up Call

Requested: yes

Warnings: none

Pau woke up on Monday morning with a sense of unease. He had sent a good morning text to his girlfriend, Y/N, but it had been hours without a reply. As he got dressed, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Concerned, he decided to head over to her house. Arriving at Y/N's place, Pau knocked on the door. To his surprise, it swung open, revealing her younger brother, Fernando, wearing a bright smile. “Hey, Pau! What are you doing here?” Fernando asked, his hands still clutching a bowl of cereal, the remnants of breakfast smeared across his cheek. “I came to see Y/N. She didn’t respond to my message this morning. Is she around?” Pau replied, trying to mask his worry.

“Yeah, she’s still asleep.” Fernando said, as he waved his twin sister, Jorda, over. She was sprawled on the living room floor, engrossed in a cartoon, a cereal box clutched in her tiny hands. Pau peered into the living room. “Are you guys just having cereal straight from the box again?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah! It tastes better this way!” Fernando grinned, tossing a piece of cereal into his mouth. “Where are Xavi and Sergi?” Pau asked, momentarily forgetting that their older brothers had started university this year and wouldn’t be back until Sunday.

“Xavi is in Madrid for college, Sergi is in London. Mama is on a business trip, and Papa is working a night shift, so he won’t be home until three.” Fernando replied, nonchalantly. Pau’s heart sank. “So, Y/N is alone?”

“Yup. Just sleeping.” Fernando confirmed, popping another piece of cereal into his mouth. With a resolute nod, Pau decided. “Alright, I’ll help get you two ready for school. Y/N needs some sleep.” He quickly walked towards the stairs, peeking into Y/N’s room. The sight made him smile and worry at the same time. Y/N was sprawled across her bed, notes scattered around her like fallen leaves. He couldn’t help but admire how dedicated she was to her studies, but it also made him feel guilty that she hadn’t been able to rest.

“Come on, let’s get you two ready!” Pau said, returning to Fernando and Jorda. “Are we going in your car?” Jorda asked excitedly, bouncing on her toes. “Of course! It’s a special day,” Pau replied, smirking as he recalled how the twins loved riding in his new Cupra. As they made their way down to the car, Pau switched to Spanish, engaging the twins in their father’s native tongue. “Cómo están, mis pequeños?” He asked playfully.

“Bien!” They chimed in unison, their eyes wide with excitement. Although being born and raised in Barcelona, Y/N's family primarily spoke english at home, mostly due to it being their mother's first language. Her job didn't require her to learn Spanish, she simply stayed at home until her company sent her out to review something. Her father however, was from Lleida and moved to Barcelona, in doing so, meeting their mother. Since the twins rarely spoke spanish or catalan at home, Y/N and her father tried incorperating it in everyday at home, simply by having breakfast in spanish every morning. “I’m just going to send Y/N a quick text so she doesn’t panic when she wakes up,” Pau said, pulling out his phone.

Hola cariño, just bringing Fernando and Jorda to school so you can get some rest. Love you!

Once they were all buckled in, Pau started the car. The twins immediately bombarded him with questions ranging from who he thinks will win the balloon d'or, to questions about whether the chicken or the egg came first. However, one question really did stick out to him. “Pau, do you want to marry our sister?” Fernando asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. Pau sucked in a sharp breath. He hadnt exactly thought of thay before. They were both young and had been dating a year. After a second, he chuckled, a warm feeling spreading through him. “When we are older, I absolutely will.” He replied with a wink.

As they arrived at school, Pau couldn’t help but notice the awe on the other children’s faces as they saw the shiny Cupra. He parked the car, and the twins hopped out, waving goodbye. “Bye, Pau! Thanks!” Jorda shouted, running off with her brother. With a smile, Pau watched them run inside before heading off to training. As he drove, he couldn’t shake the thoughts of Y/N from his mind. Finally, during a break in his practice, he pulled out his phone and checked for messages.

His heart lifted when he saw a reply from Y/N: “Sorry, babe! Just woke up. Thank you for taking care of the twins. You’re the best! Love you!” Pau smiled to himself, feeling the warmth of their connection and the excitement of their future together. Everything felt right in the world, and he couldn’t wait to see her later.

[bellawoso]

New Romantics

Alexia Putellas x fem!reader

really channeled my lack of knowledge for the football rules into this fic

Alexia had always sworn by one rule.

If she was to date anyone - which she was sure she wouldn’t due to her busy football schedule - she wanted to be with someone who knew football. Who knew the rules, and the players.

Alexia loved football, so honestly it made sense on her preferences, she did the want to bore someone with conversations of football which was a repetitive topic for her.

After one relationship with a girl who knew nothing of the sport Alexia adored, the midfielder decided she didn’t want to be with someone who wasn’t even interested in Alexia’s career.

Her ex’s failed flirting attempts at playing dumb of the sport did nothing to make Alexia laugh, it only irritated her more.

Alexia broke up with her after a week, she was suprised with herself for not have ending it sooner.

However, when Alexia met you in the stands of a Barcelona game that your friend had dragged you to, she was quick to break her one rule in dating.

———————————————————————

You had met your friend when he accidentally hit you in the face, whilst cheering in a secluded Barcelona bar after his team had scored the winning goal, your friendship quickly grew from there, you both had much in common, both going into teaching as you were quick to apply for a vacant job position at the primary school he worked at.

The only difference you had with him, was that he loved football, and you had never had any interests in watching people run up and down a pitch, kicking a ball for ninety minutes.

Therefore it was very safe to say that you were not a fan of football, you didn’t know the rules or the players, and unsurprisingly you were not aware that it was practically forbidden to wear white and gold in Barca’s home section of the stadium, your choice of white denim shorts and a gold tube top had recieved many dirty looks from all of the Barca fans you had passed.

As you and your friend arrived at your seats around fifteen minutes before the game was to start, a soft “ay dios mio” could be heard from the woman next to you.

You, who had no knowledge of the spanish language, only heard “dios” which you mistook for “dia”, and concluded the woman next to you wished you a good morning.

You responded with a smile “bon dia!”, to which your spanish friend translated to you that the woman said “oh my god” and reminded you that you accidentally wore the opposition’s trademark colours.

You missed the woman’s friend laughing, and settled on sitting down and shrugging your shoulders, honestly not understanding the big deal.

However, as soon as your die-hard Barcelona fan friend noticed you were sat next to world-class Barcelona players, he was quick to rush to get you a jersey from a store near the food and drink, with a promise to get you a tea.

Your friend came back quickly just as the game was about to start, throwing a blue and red top in your face, telling you to put it on now, you lifted up the top which caught the two Barca player’s attention next to you, and were met with a last name on the back you briefly recognised.

PUTELLAS

Alexia thought you were beautiful as soon as she saw you, experiencing a swarm of butterflies in her stomach and a light flush of her cheeks which didn’t go unnoticed by Jana next to her, who took to teasing the older footballer next to her.

The sight of her last name on your back did not help her case at all, and pushed all thoughts of you to the back of her head, her one rule making you completely off limits.

Being set with the hard task of sitting next to you in the match, Alexia was constantly subjected to your soft “huhs” each time the whistle was blown, and honestly the only words she had actually heard you say the entire time were “What’s going on?”

Until a Real Madrid forward made a tackle on a Barcelona defender in the box, and you shouted:

“Penalty!”

This recieved confused glances from surrounding Barca fans, and an elbow from your friend, and a snort of laughter from Jana who sat next to Alexia.

“She is very funny Ale, admit it!”

To this you gave her a look of confusion, and asked “Whats funny?”

The pure look of innocence on your face made Alexia hold back a smile as Jana explained that it was in Barcelona’s own box, so there would be no penalty as if there was it would be an own goal.

You quickly thanked the brunette, to which she gave you a cheeky grin and a promise of “anytime” in return.

It wasn’t until 10 minutes later that the flags for offside went up against Hansen, which had your friend shouting.

“Ref! How the fuck was that offside!?”

To which Alexia and Jana nodded in agreement, leaving only you yet again confused, with no idea what offside meant, your brain short circuited it to mean that the player went off of the pitch, making you agree with them.

“I know right! She didn’t even go off the pitch!”

Your exclamation combined with your friend’s Spanish cursing of you and your stupidness under his breath once again captured both Alexia’s and Jana’s attention, but this time even Alexia couldn’t help her laughter.

After their teasing died down, Alexia felt a bit bad for you, as you really did just have no idea what was going on, and took on the hard task of explaining what offside was.

Even if you were listening to the blonde’s soft accented words, you were still sure you wouldn’t understand what this “offside” thing was, except you were to enamoured with her beautiful features that you accidentally let all of her words go in one ear and out of the other.

You could only nod with a dopey smile on your face, as the blonde flashed you a knowing smirk.

The game ended 4-1 to Barcelona. You had zoned out, thinking of the gorgeous blonde next to you, debating whether to ask for her number or not.

Until you felt your friend tugging you up by your arm, saying that you needed to cheer instead of looking sad as if they had lost, as he teased that you might be an inner Madrid fan at heart, and joked he would disown you if you were.

You only gave him a lighthearted shove, you definitely didn’t deserve how he absolutely bodied you back, making you fall straight into the woman next to you.

Until you felt a pair of strong hands gripping your waist, you looked up to see the the blonde once again with a cocky smirk adorning her face.

“Careful, wouldn’t want you falling for me just yet.”

You were fast to push yourself off her and mutter a “gracias” in return, feeling your cheeks flush red.

It turned out that your friend had not wanted to come across as a crazy fan to the two players earlier, but was quick to whisper who they were in your ear, offering you a brief description of them, and telling you how he wanted their signatures before they left.

He leaned over you and tapped the blonde on her shoulder, and asked in Spanish if you could both have their signatures, to which they agreed.

When Alexia went to sign yours, she went against all the thoughts in her head telling her that you went against exactly what she wanted in a partner, and scribbled down her number on your jersey.

Alexia then leaned over to whisper in your ear,

“text me, I don’t mind teaching you some more football, as long as you agree to a date, in a better choice of clothing colours”

———————————————————————

A/N : I do actually have a part 2 to this planned out of meeting the team to watch a match or just you watching a training session and still not understanding, however first I am going to finish my Jana fic 🤍

[beautiful-basque-country]

What do you think? https://youtu.be/WW4D-1Sa-r8?si=8peyR-RkNAeYOynL

Kaixo anon!

Somehow I thought somebody would ask me about that video? I watched it yesterday.

I'm suscribed to Linguriosa's channel and have learnt very much from her videos, that are generally well researched and explained.

This one isn't different. She tries to be somehow aseptic and focus on the laws that attacked Galego, Català, and Euskara during the dictatorship without too much assessment or analysis beyond that.

For instance, she says that the first ikastola (school 100% in Basque) was opened in Donosti in 1954 but fails to mention it was actually a clandestine school. She also fails to add context when she says thatin the 60s - the so-called "liberal phase" of the dictatorship" - magazines and records could be edited in Basque.

By that time, 23 years - a whole generation - of repression and punishment and making people ashamed had passed; that thousands of Basque-speakers had left their homes (27,000 to Cuba and +7,000 to France, just in 1937, and we're talking about the registered immigrants; it's calculated that half the people that escaped Spain did it illegaly);

Literally millions of people from the rural communities of Spain moved to the industrial capitals - especially Barcelona and Bilbo -, which made the few Basque speakers remaining not to interact in Basque since maaaaaaaany citizens were now from outside EH and Spanish, even though not over imposed by law as before, was very much imposed by the situation;

This is to say that by the 60s when Franco allegedly changed his mind and was so gracious as to let Basque people have content in our language, Basque was a TINY language on the verge of death. Unimportant. Incidental. Completely safe.

Then I see comments below Linguriosa's video saying something like "I am Basque and I was always taught that Basque was super banned under Franco and now I see that I was fed propaganda" and my heart breaks. Because this is exactly what happens when you fail to give as much context as possible to actually let people understand the whole picture and story.

Because, really, if you know nothing about this and watch the video, you actually get the idea that Franco became more tolerant regarding the minoritized languages in Spain as he got older and what he was actually doing was just laughing at our people: see? you have freedom to use your language now, too bad nobody can speak it anymore!

I'd love to know the takes of my friends @useless-catalanfacts and @jar-jar-ate on this, if they oblige! ^_^

[totaly-obsessed]

Family away from Home

Barca femení x reader request

-> Ingrid's little sister spends the Summer holidays with her and gets into trouble, leaving the whole team worried

-> Warning: talk of rape, drugs, and stalking - do not take this lightly

-> For this request, I hope you like it!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Eight weeks of pure free time, a blessing – especially when your sister lives in Spain and you can stay there for free. Ingrid lives in a nice apartment in the middle of Barcelona, together with her girlfriend Maria and two cats. It was a nice surprise when she asked you if you would like to spend the summer with them – of course, you said yes. Who wouldn’t?

Mapi was nice, very nice and while there was a language barrier and situations were hard sometimes, everyone did their best to get around it. You learned Spanish in school, but it was very different from actual Spanish, especially in Barcelona where many people speak Català.

The two footballers had early training sessions but usually, you all had breakfast together, or at least for the last ten days that you had been there. Today, however, you were nowhere to be found, and Ingrid was panicking.

You had gone out last night, which she knew, but you had not returned and now it was eight in the morning. She called and called you, made Maria call you, and even tracked your location, which was still at the club.

No ten minutes later she was pulling you out of the dark environment by your hair. It’s not like she didn’t try pulling you by your arms but your body was much too sweaty and she kept slipping.

The brunette didn’t even talk to you on the way home, just depositing you in the backseat. It was Maria who took care of you at home, guiding you to the shower and pulling out an outfit for you, thankfully with sunglasses.

Half an hour later Mapi pulled into the training grounds, helping you out of the car while Ingrid stormed ahead. As thankful that she was, that you were okay, she was pissed. You had promised her that you would be back at least by three in the morning, you had promised her that you would take care of yourself and be watchful – which you obviously had not been.

At some point during the night, you noticed that everything was a little hazier, and disoriented and you completely forgot where you were.

Your drink had been spiked.

Terrified of seeing Ingrid like this – or rather her seeing you like this, you had decided to stay there, in the hope that she would be gone once you headed home. But when your sister had seen your dilated pupils and wonky behavior, she knew that you were not ‘just’ drunk. She was so pissed that you took drugs, putting that toxic stuff into your body, that she did not even question if you wanted it.

Her angry stomping was interrupted once she ran into Keira, Lucy, and Ona who stood in the hallway chatting. “Jeez, what happened to you?” The heavy Spanish accent teased the Norwegian just enough to give an answer. “My sister happened to me.” Just at that moment, Mapi dragged you around the corner – a cap pulled deep into your face, together with sunglasses effectively hiding it.

The three footballers quickly understood the situation, huge grins on their faces, thinking you were drunk of your ass.

In the changing room, Maria dropped you in your sister’s cubby, who immediately sat down next to the blonde in hers. Upon seeing the taller woman’s facial impression most people just ignored your presence, going about their day as usual but it was Frido who approached you first. “Lille Ingrid!“

You were pulled into a tight hug, the blonde footballer having missed you – effectively ignoring the pained expression on your face. “Hi, Frido.” Kisses were pressed on your cheeks as she pulled off the sunglasses.

Both of you winced. You because of the bright light, Frido because of your wide eyes. “Hva har du gjort? Ingrid is pretty mad.“ You pushed her hands away, pulling the glasses back on, trying to hide once you saw Pina and Patri curiously looking at you. “I didn’t do anything Frido, I promise. But Inni is mad at me.” Your voice was low, just above a whisper that the Swede could understand you. With soft coos and head pats she went back to her own cubby.

The girls started to walk out the door, ready to hit the pitch. This time it was your sister who pulled you up, pushing an isotonic drink into your hands. Maria had been fine with letting you sleep in the changing room but Ingrid decided to punish you – sitting you down next to the field, in the early heat. It was unbearable to sit there – the sun burning down on you, the shrill sounds of the whistle annoying your forming headache.

It was Lucy who was sent off to take a break because of her knee, and Alexia who still struggled with her ACL, who took a seat on both sides of you.

¡Hola, nena! The captain pressed a series of soft kisses on the top of your head, pulling you into her body. While she was even warmer, she shielded your body from the sun – and she was very comforting to your upset head. “How’s your hangover?” Lucy’s teasing voice was quieter than usual, going easy on you. “Hasn’t even formed yet.” The two older women shared a look over the top of your head, knowing that did not mean anything good.

It was silent for a good couple of minutes, with everyone watching Claudia score a screamer – the two women at your side cheering.

Ana joined you after a bit, sinking in front of you effectively barricading your view of the pitch as she pulled the glasses off again. “Ai! Did you take drugs?” Her voice was shockingly loud, alarming everyone in your vicinity but especially Lucy and Alexia, as their heads snapped to you.

The Spaniard grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks as she observed your eyes – the Brit copying her shortly after. “Do you know how dangerous drugs are? You are ruining your body!” Alexia was rambling in Spanish and Ana just looked disappointed. Her blue eyes were drilling into your soul, there was something wrong and she knew it. She just didn’t know what it was.

The whole situation was uncomfortable – three women who you respected a lot talking about you, talking at you, about how bad what you did was. “I didn’t take them.”

Silence.

It was finally silent, giving your buzzing head a short break.

The other girls were still on the pitch, blissfully unaware, but you could see Ingrid and Mapi eyeing your little circle. “What do you mean you didn’t take them?” Lucy was the first to find her words, but it was Ana’s pleading eyes that made you spit it out. “Someone put something in my drink. I didn’t take anything. I promise.” Alexia’s eyes teared up, hoping that she misunderstood. But upon repeating yourself the blonde understood that she heard you correctly.

You pleaded with them that they would not tell your sister or her girlfriend, and they agreed – under the condition that you would join them at team night that evening – which you agreed to.

The rest of the day was hard. Ingrid ignored you for most of it. While her teammates had begged you to let them tell her, you refused. You didn’t want your sister to worry even more than she already did. Her heavily tattooed girlfriend however made you food, something to drink and brought you to bed – in the hope that you would feel better when you woke up, or at least be sober.

Your head still hurts after waking up, a hangover having taken the place of your previous drunken state. After some food, an Advil, and a nice long shower you felt much better – dressed to impress and ready to go.

The team bonding for the night was cooking together at Alexia’s place, seeing as her kitchen was the biggest. Upon arriving Ingrid sat you down on the couch where you were quickly joined by Claudia, Patri, Jana, and Bruna, the younger ones on the team. They didn’t even question why you were at their training in the morning, just happy that you were with them again as they had last seen you for a spring vacation in Greece. It didn’t take long until you were filled in on all the newest gossip;

Jana’s girlfriend Jill is a very good partner

The girl Patri got with a couple of weeks ago became clingy, she panicked and told her she was married, which she wasn’t and a quick Google search proved that

Bruna’s brother had gotten a girl pregnant, so now they were getting married with the young brunette as a bridesmaid

Alexia and her girlfriend had broken up and it was messy

And apparently, not even Lucy, Keira, and Ona knew what was happening with them.

It was Sandra who called them over to help prepare the food but you and Claudia were sent away again, not trusted with the sharp knives, so you took your previous places on the couch. “How long are you staying with Ingrid?” The two of you fell into a comfortable chatter, the short brunette taking up her favorite place with her head in your lap as you braided her hair.

The kitchen was noisy as they made food, just a few people were scattered throughout the room. A phone started ringing - yours. The number in the display was unknown to you, so you pressed the red button.

Just a few seconds later it started to ring again – declined again.

After that Pina and you talked for a bit, your eyes falling to the phone from time to time until it rang again. Annoyed you answered with a pissed “Hello?” The silence on the other line was disturbing until you heard a creepy chuckle. “Hello?” Claudia watched the interaction as your brows furrowed, and so did the brunettes. “Don’t you remember me?”

Your heart started to beat incredibly fast and loud. Sure, you hadn’t actually fallen asleep from the drug that spiked your drink but there was still severe memory loss from the night. “I thought you liked my drink. I made it just for you.” His voice was just a whisper that reached your brain in a very uncomfortable place. “Who is this?” The chuckle was back and instead of an answer, your phone dinged – a message from the same unknown number that was talking to you.

The Spaniard on your lap watched as you took the phone away from your ear, opening the message. It was a picture of you. And it was taken at the bar from last night.

In it, you were sitting on a guy's lap but your pupils were blown large, a stare that didn’t reach anybody facing the camera, as his ankles crossed yours keeping you in place, as did the hands whose knuckles turned white as they were holding onto your wrists. “Don’t you like this picture? You were so happy when we took it.”

By now the other youngsters were back, leaning over the couch, watching you. Once Bruna understood what was happening, she ran off, just to return with the rest of the team – forget cooking.

Ingrid practically sprinted at you as she took the phone, throwing it to her girlfriend who took a screenshot of the number and yelled down the line. Your sister took your shaking form in her arms as Alexia went to help Mapi with whatever she was doing.

Once you had calmed down a silence filled the room, a silence that was waiting for you to explain. “I didn’t take any drugs last night, my drink was spiked. And apparently, some things happened that I don’t remember. I- I don’t know how he got my number, and I don’t remember doing anything with him. And, and-“

You were crying, burying your face in Ingrid's thick hair, trying to hide from the world. Frido and Caro tried to calm down your sister who was also crying while Lucy pulled you into her own arms.

The whole team was there for you – and now they knew that you hadn’t voluntarily taken drugs. They also knew what a blackout could mean, especially when the guy had your number and pictures like that.

It was Ale, the trusted captain who voiced the next step. “Let’s get you to a hospital, Nena. Get a rape kit done.” Tears were streaming down your face as Claudia and Patri tried to hand you tissue after tissue. “I’m scared.” Ingrid, who felt so incredibly guilty for treating you the way that she did, not even questioning you if you really had taken drugs, took you in her arms. “I know, baby – but you have us, you’ll never be alone again.”

And she was right, you were not alone.

Ingrid, Fridolina, and Ana accompanied you to the hospital, where you got tested. It was positive, but you were not pregnant or had syphilis but you had definitely been taken advantage of. The good news? There was a DNA sample that you could take to the police, along with the picture of you and the guy, the number you were called from, and a drug test positive for Rohypnol.

Maria, Lucy, and Alexia went into the station with you and held you as you cried when retelling what happened, but the rest of the team was waiting outside – hoping that they could find the guy who did this.

Turns out that they could.

Two weeks later you had gotten the notification that they had caught him with Rohypnol on his body and pictures of you on his phone – it was over.

The whole team of Barcelona Femení took you under their wings you spent training with them, went out on team nights with them, and went on little hangouts with some of them.

You had found a second family – away from home.

[no-passaran]

you mentioned that it was beaten into your grandparents' generation to not speak catalan, but to speak spanish. did people in catalonia often not speak spanish before franco? what was the political situation of the language like before?

also, do catalan people prefer when spanish is called castellano? i know in romance linguistics it's often called that because spain has other languages, but i think catalan people often don't consider themselves spanish if i've understood it correctly

Yes, many people did not speak Spanish before Franco. For example, my grandma was born and raised in Barcelona right before the war (she was born in 1932) and she did not know any Spanish when she was a kid. She told me that one of the things she remembers the most of her childhood is how terrified she was that someone would find that out. She used to go with other kids of the street to sew with a elderly woman while their parents were at work (babysitting in working class neighbourhoods basically) and after Franco won the war this woman (who didn't speak Spanish either) told them in a made-up Spanish (adding an -o at the end of Catalan words and making them "sound Spanish" mixed with the very little Spanish she knew) that now it was very important that they all spoke Spanish when someone could hear because otherwise they could go to jail. So my grandma spent about a year when she did not say a single word on the street or outside of her family and close family friends. When she went to the market, she only pointed at things and nodded yes or no with her head or said the numbers by raising her fingers. She was very scared that she would be jailed with murderers and rapists. Even though I don't think children would be jailed for this (but it's not strange she believed it, because she had relatives who were in jail and were tortured, and the first years of dictatorship there was so much torture, executions and depravity that you ended up believing anything could happen), even if children wouldn't be jailed, they could still have gotten punished. She was still a kid, so at that age you learn quickly, so she could learn Spanish soon enough (or at least enough Spanish to pass well, because to be fair I've heard her speak Spanish now and every so often she still makes noticeable mistakes, even after decades of being married to my grandpa who is Spanish and speaking Spanish at home).

My parents (born in the 1960s), too, have told me that some of their classmates made mistakes and used Catalan words instead of the correct Spanish sentence. At that point, pretty much everyone in urban areas like ours already spoke Spanish well enough, but most people didn't use it often outside of school (unless they were Spanish immigrants or their children), so they made mistakes. And then the teacher beat them. It was the law that the punishment for speaking Catalan (and for many other things) in schools was corporal punishment. My mum was never beaten and was always at the top of the class and well-behaved, but even to this day she is still quite traumatized for what she saw. The only time I have seen her cry very desperately almost like an anxiety attack was when my grandma was talking about their teacher, because she remembers how he used to throw disobeying children to the floor and kick them, even when the kids were crying he'd still continue kicking them.

My parents have still met quite a few elderly people who didn't speak Spanish, only Catalan or Aranese (there was an Aranese man who used to come to my town for commerce, but it's no problem because Aranese and Catalan are mutually understandable, so they could have conversations where he spoke Aranese and the others spoke Catalan and it was fine, they just thought it was kind of funny). But I (and I dare to say almost everyone from my generation, except people who know someone with a strong mental disability and maybe some people from very rural areas) have not met anyone who speaks only Catalan and doesn't speak Spanish (excluding people from the Catalan-speaking areas that aren't under Spanish control, of course; because I have some friends from Northern Catalonia and there the bilingualism is Catalan+French, or even only French at this point for many young people).

You asked what the political situation of the Catalan language was before the fascists' victory in the Civil War. The situation was of course much better than during Francoism, for example we had the right to use Catalan in public, in schools (public schools taught in Catalan and even taught how to write Catalan), there were films dubbed to Catalan, Catalan radio, Catalan books, etc. and the huge amount of people in Catalonia spoke only Catalan in their everyday lives. However, there was still a strong political and social discrimination according to which Catalan was associated with the working classes and Spanish was seen as more classy (this was the case since the 1600s and intensified much more after 1714), but thanks to the Renaixença movement* Catalan had regained prestige to be used in literature and formal settings, even of the upper class, though conservative upper class (specially monarchists and fascists) still preferred Spanish. But we had done a lot of great steps in the right direction, and things were going very well. Better than ever before since Spain's invasion in 1714.

*the Renaixença was an artistic —and most important literary— movement of the 1800s that's basically our version of Romanticism but with a strong component of political and social fight for the rights of Catalan language and people.

I do not have any preference on whether Spanish should be called Spanish (español) or Castillian (castellano). In Spain, it's almost always called Castillian, so when I speak in Spanish I say castellano just because that's what I'm used to. But it's the same. It feels more correct to say Castillian because it's the language of Castilla, like you say "English" because it's the language of England (instead of saying "British"). But Spain is just Castilla and the lands it invaded, so when anyone says Spanish (language, culture, government, whatever) it means the Castillian one, and Spain has worked hard to make it clear that it does not include any of the occupied nations in its concept of country. So I always understand Spanish as referring exclusively to Castillian things (understanding Castilla to include all the Kingdom of Castilla, not only the modern-day administrative regions of Castilla. So, for example, including Andalucía and Extremadura).

I do not consider myself Spanish and I find it offensive when people try to say "Catalan is also Spanish because it's a language from Spain", it feels like saying that Catalan is nothing of itself, only belonging to Spain. It's forgetting that part of Catalonia has never been Spain (Northern Catalonia) and that Catalan is also the language of Andorra (an independent nation) and l'Alguer (a city in Sardinia inhabited by the descendants of Medieval Catalan settlers who moved there centuries before Catalonia was occupied by Spain). Their language is not "a Spanish language" and never has been, and either way I refuse to be reduced to that. Our language goes back centuries (with changes over time, of course, but it hasn't changed as much as English, we can read Late Medieval Catalan just fine), it has developed as independently as any other Romance language, with its own traditions and literature (the 1st vernacular literature in Romance languages btw!), so we are of ourselves, not "of Spain". I don't want our existence to be reduced to a possession of Spain. We should be described in our own terms.

So yeah, in Spanish saying both castellano and español are fine (some Spanish-speaking countries use one more or the other more), and in English I think it's better to just say Spanish, because that's the word that's used in English. But I don't really mind tbh.

I hope that answers your questions :)

[wileys-russo]

Please could you write something with reader trying to teach alexia english😩

PSA: I don’t speak Spanish so I sincerely apologise for any mistakes

second languages II a.putellas

"hola! ale?" you called out as you let yourself into your girlfriends apartment, bending down to scoop up nala who came hurtling at you from the sofa. "hola!" you heard the blonde call out from her bedroom as you cooed at the small ball of fluff in your arms and kicked off your shoes, sliding them to sit neatly beside your girlfriends.

you couldn't help but chuckle as you entered the bedroom to see alexia's eyes trained on the large tv on her wall, watching barcelonas last match with real madrid. a notebook and pen sat nestled in her lap, the girl clearly taking notes before their upcoming rival game this weekend.

"nadie puede decir que no estás dedicada bonita." (no one can ever say you are not dedicated) you laughed, placing nala down and shaking your head. "para ser el mejor tienes que saber todo sobre tu oponente. hola hermosa." (to be the best you have to know everything about your opponent. hi beautiful) your girlfriend shrugged, moving her notebook away and opening her arms expectantly.

"y por eso eres la mejor?" (and that is why you are the best?) you laughed, placing your keys and phone down on her desk. "si es por eso que soy la mejor." (yes, that is why i am the best) the catalan grinned as you collapsed on top of her, your arms wrapping around one another in a tight hug.

"No es que me queje al verte. pero pensé que tenías trabajo esta tarde?" (not that i am complaining to see you. but i thought you had jobs this afternoon?) alexia questioned curiously as you moved a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

"a few clients cancelled so it freed up my afternoon." you explained with a happy smile, honestly not all that bothered if it meant you got to spend more time with her.

"veo. bueno, al juego todavía le queda la mitad." (i see. well the game still has one half to go) your girlfriend smiled as you sighed, knowing her well enough that there would be very little you could say to pry her away from her match studies.

"i'm gonna go make some food then." you chuckled, pecking her lips and moving to stand but her arms stayed locked around you. "o podrías quedarte y mirar conmigo mi vida." (or you could stay and watch with me) alexia grinned, wiggling her eyebrows making you laugh.

"haré algo de comida y luego volveré y miraré. okay?" (i will make some food then come back and watch) you bargained, the blonde humming and letting you up. "si, okay."

"and don't forget, we're practicing your english later." you reminded causing the older girl to groan loudly in contempt. "ale! you promised." you warned at her response, the blonde flopping backwards and sighing.

"de repente me siento muy mal bebe. podría perder mi voz." (suddenly i am feeling very sick baby. i might lose my voice) the taller girl faked a cough causing you to narrow your eyes at her in a glare.

"alexia you are the one who asked me to help you be more confident in your english. so that you can speak easier with my family!" you warned her sternly, the midfielder whining like a child throwing a tantrum as she kicked her feet and dragged her hands down her face.

bit by the travel bug you decided to spend a summer interning in barcelona around a year and a half ago, you already knew spanish from studying it in school and so when the opportunity came up from one of your old teachers for a photography internship abroad, you'd have been stupid to say no.

that was how you'd met alexia, a few months in you'd been sent to assist on a shoot for the new fc barcelona kit drop.

you'd caught the older girls eyes right away the moment you'd first spoke, alexia finding endless amusement in the way your thick northern accent came through in your spanish.

so with some light teasing throughout the shoot you were surprised when she'd asked if you wanted to grab dinner afterward, claiming that you'd not had a proper barcelona experience until you'd eaten at some of the best places it had to offer which alexia was glad to show you.

and the rest was a story you'd probably tell your grandkids one day.

"o podrías ayudar a tu familia a mejorar su español?" (or you could help your family work on their spanish) your girlfriend suggested with an innocent smile, which promptly dropped as you only continued to wordlessly glare at her.

"fine!" alexia huffed, throwing her hands up in defeat before crossing them over her chest, pouting up at you. "that's not going to work ale. go back to your game!" you nodded to the tv, turning around and heading toward the kitchen.

~

"cual es tu horario para mañana bonita?" (whats your schedule for tomorrow) your girlfriend asked with a stretch, joining you in the kitchen from her bedroom. "hermosa?" she called out again when you didn't answer.

"in english." you turned to her with a smile, leaning against the counter as you took a bite from your sandwich. "qué?" alexia frowned as you pulled yourself to sit on the counter. "english lessons ale. i will only respond when you speak in english!" you explained with a shrug, continuing to eat your sandwich.

"mierda. uh, what are your....jobs tomorrow?" the older girl managed to get out as you nodded encouragingly. "i have a shoot at two and another at five." you answered, your girlfriends understanding of english was fine as was yours of spanish, but it was her diction that she was often insecure about.

"what time is training tomorrow?" you asked, leaning over to place your empty plate in the sink. "training is at ten." alexia answered with a little more ease and you smiled.

"okay so now lets practice like you're talking with my family." you started, jumping down from the counter and moving to the living room, both you and alexia taking a seat on the sofa.

"how have you been?" "good." "okay, they're going to want to know more than that baby. what about football? speak about that." "okay. we have been training for the..." you watched as the blonde struggled to find the right words, huffing in frustration.

"champions league?" "si. sorry, yes. champions league. barcelona lost last time, we do not want that to happen again so we train hard, we try to win all our games." "good! see, you can do it ale." you nudged the older girl with your foot, sending her a soft smile of encouragement. "you will have to help me with your father." alexia chuckled as you agreed, your dads accent easily the thickest of your families with how fast he spoke alexia often struggled to understand what he was saying.

"your accent when you speak english is very cute baby." you grinned, watching on victoriously as a small blush coated the girls cheeks, a welcome change from her often sharp demeanor.

"ojalá pudiera decir lo mismo de tu nena española." (wish i could say the same about your spanish) the taller girl sent you a smile, hands tugging at your top to pull you closer to her. "hey!" you frowned in offence at the comment as you now sat practically in her lap, her long legs reclined down the sofa.

"should i say in english too?" alexia teased as you smacked her chest with a small pout.

"there are some things you like better when i say in spanish baby girl, no?" alexias tone shifted as her eyes roamed your features with a slightly darker gaze. your face heated up at what you knew she was insinuating, her hands gently sliding up and down your bare thighs.

"...maybe some things sound better in spanish."

[octuscle]

Catalan internship

Michael was overjoyed. He would never have dreamed that he would be accepted as an intern at the renowned architecture firm in Barcelona. Normally, world-class offices only accepted seniors as interns. And Michael was a sophomore. And he barely spoke a word of Spanish. To be honest, he had lied a bit on his CV. But the internship didn't start for another three months. Until then, he would learn Spanish and learn so much that it wouldn't even be noticeable that he had only just started his studies.

When he was on the plane to Barcelona three months later, Michael didn't speak a word of Spanish and had gained a lot of experience in frat house parties over the past few weeks. The internship was going to be a debacle… And indeed, he didn't understand a word on his first day. And even if he had spoken the language, he would have had no idea what they wanted him to do. Michael cursed the decision to apply for this position. He was only happy when he was finally in the office. He googled "Spanish now". A list of language schools and language apps came up… Boring stuff… That didn't help him now either… And then, already on page 2, came "Become Spanish in just a few moments". Chronivac… Never heard of it… "In-app purchases possible." Never mind, Michael had his dad's credit card….

"Spanish architecture student in his final year". That was all the effort Michael put into his prompt. That was enough work for today. Michael spent the rest of the day looking for trendy bars for tonight.

Miguel wasn't overly punctual when he came into the office the next day. Why the hell didn't he understand anyone here? The language sounded like a gibberish of Spanish, French and a few more languages. Fortunately, everyone here actually understood Spanish. And for a reason Miguel couldn't quite explain to himself, Miguel spoke fluent English. This made it easier to flirt with the other interns from Germany, Poland and the USA. Unfortunately, Miguel quickly realized that everyone else here was far superior to him professionally. Despite his advanced studies, Miguel was a complete layman compared to his colleagues when it came to creativity, structural engineering and building technology.

"A young Spanish architect". And "Enter".

Miguel hated his small apartment in the suburb of Barcelona. He designed the most beautiful houses, the most spectacular skyscrapers. And he lived in this shoebox. Okay, to be fair, Miguel didn't actually design anything. Miguel drew staircases. Staircases for the most beautiful houses, the most spectacular skyscrapers. Buildings that someone else in the office had designed. One of the big bosses who were in the limelight, who were celebrated in the press. The stars of the Catalan architecture scene. Miguel could puke. In itself, he could have been satisfied. He wasn't earning too badly. He was a good-looking man. But he spent ten to twelve hours a day in the office. He had never seen one of his construction sites. He left his home at 06:00, he came home at 19:00 or not until 20:00. Sport? Going out? Meeting friends? He was already happy if he managed to finish a ready meal in the microwave. Didn't he have this app? He felt like he had last used it years ago. "One of the big boys in the office," he wrote. Tomorrow he wanted to be one of the bosses.

As a Spaniard, Miguel was used to having to earn respect. The cursed Catalans always thought they were better than everyone else. That was one of the reasons why Miguel almost lived in the gym. Sleep, gym, office, gym, sleep, gym… Getting his muscles to burn was more important to him than being successful here in the office. And with the muscles, success somehow came automatically. In meetings, he was always looked at when a question was open. Miguel knew that he wasn't actually the most talented architect in the office. But thanks to his impressive physique, he had managed to carve out a reasonably decent career. He earned good money, he had a summer house in Mallorca, he fucked the interns. And he was sometimes allowed to suck off one of the gods, the bosses of the office. No more. No less. His career had come to a natural end. He was just 42 years old. Damn it, it had to go on somehow. But as a Spaniard in Catalonia? Not a chance! He searched for this app… What was it called again? Chronivac. What should he enter as a prompt…? "My own master. And Catalan"

Miquel got up at 05:00 and immediately started lifting weights in his carpentry workshop. As a self-employed man, he didn't have a minute to lose. His apprentice and his two fellow carpenters arrived between 06:00 and 06:30. Most of his neighbors could set the clock so that the circular saw would start howling at 06:30. This did not necessarily make Miquel and his workshop popular. But his father and grandfather had already built cupboards and tables here for the neighborhood. The family had made a small fortune. And Miquel was a celebrity in his neighborhood. They called him "the Catalonian Arnold". And indeed, he was not much less imposing than his great role model. When customers came to his workshop, he always went out of his way to flex his muscles. Many of his customers attached great importance to him personally installing the furniture. And it was not uncommon for customers to have the air conditioning turned off. No matter. As a rule, he worked bare-chested whenever possible anyway.

Miquel was a good craftsman and not a bad self-promoter. But as a businessman, he was a failure. His accounts were constantly empty, the demands of social security and the tax authorities constantly hovered over him like a sword of Damocles. How he would love to simply chisel iron and work with wood. His two passions. In fact, he felt like an accountant. He wrote "Be free" in this strange app.

It had been a few years since Miquel had sold his workshop and the house in Barcelona. He had never been back since. But he had heard that Japanese-Chilean tapas were served where he had once assembled cabinets. Although he had received an indecent amount of money for the property by his own admission, he would be able to eat there for maybe a year and then he would be broke. But the last thing he dreamed of was eating Japanese-Chilean tapas in Barcelona.

He no longer worked for money in the village where he had bought an abandoned carpenter's workshop. He worked when he felt like it. Or when someone asked him to. Of course, after just a few hours, his muscular body made him a household name. But first and foremost, the few remaining inhabitants were happy that there was a carpenter in the village again. And what a carpenter. Good with the plane. And good with the tail. Miquel had nailed everything there was to nail in the village. His cock was in a jockstrap encrusted with cum and precum. He stank of sweat and musk. If it bothered anyone, Miquel would press their face into his armpit. Either he was rid of the annoying troublemaker afterwards. Or he had a new victim to fuck. Everything was actually perfect… But something was missing.

Miquel hadn't had a cell phone for years. Anyone who wanted to reach him could reach him. He wasn't a hermit. He had internet in the former sheepfold that he converted into his last home. His supposed last home. Who would know that?

He still remembered the moment when he switched off his last phone for the last time. He had used Chronivac for the last time shortly before that. "A contented man in his prime". Damn, that was him.

[maxsimagination]

𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 - 𝗺.𝗹𝗲𝗼𝗻

summary: moving from germany to spain is no easy feat, but luckily yn has frido and mapi to help

-> ingrid and mapi aren’t together for this, and never were

-> i apologise if any of the translations are wrong

𖦹 masterlist

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗘 𝗙𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 bayern to barcelona felt like it was insanely long, but really it was only two hours.

i got bored super easily and had no one to talk to for the time we were in the air. i was moving from bayern munich to barcelona, which was a big change for me.

i knew i wouldn't have a language barrier because i knew spanish but it was like moving schools. i have to learn a new city, where everything is and how to get places. and that not even including meeting new people.

i was a very social person, i loved to have company but that didn't stop me from being nervous when i had to make new friends or talk to people i'd never met before. and it didn't help that my new teammates were some of the best players in the world.

we got into the airport at 12:05 pm barcelona time and i ordered a taxi to my new apartment. it wasn't that far from the home stadium that i'd training at when i officially started at the club, maybe a 10 minute walk.

but first i had planned a trip to one of their home games to see what exactly i was getting into. their first game of the season was tomorrow night; the same stadium i lived by, and it was against valencia.

i wouldn't lie, i'm excited to see the players, especially knowing that frido plays here now. she was at the club for two years from 2017 to 2019 and we talked a lot when she was there. she moved to wolfsburg and then barcelona, so this was the first time i'd seen her properly in a couple of years.

the stadium was packed for the first game of the season, majority of the fans dressed in barcelona jerseys and waving flags around. it was exciting to see and think about the prospect that these fans would be cheering me on in a couple of weeks.

barcelona won that game, 6-0 with two own goals scored from valencia. i made my way down to the rail where i saw frido signing shirts. i waited until she was close enough and called out to her, she looked up and spotted me, her eyes widening.

"yn! what are you doing here?"

"here to see you, and meet my new teammates. care to introduce me?" i nodded over to where some other barca players were chatting.

she grinned, obviously putting the pieces together and understanding that i was moving to her team.

"absolutely. come down here."

she reached up to where i was and lifted me over the barrier. she signed a couple more things and took some photos before we walked to her friends. i knew they were staring at me the second frido lifted me on to the field.

"ale! mapi, irene, ingrid! i'd like you to meet someone."

they all turned to me, the four pairs of eyes boring into me. i threw on a smile and held out my hand to each of them.

"nice to meet you, i'm yn yln."

the shorter girl from the group perked up when i said my name.

“¿como yn del bayern munich?” (like yn from bayern munich?)

“la única. mapi leon, ¿verdad?” (the one and only. mapi leon, right?)

she nodded and i grinned, she looked slightly taken aback that i could understand and speak fluent spanish. the other three introduced themselves then.

"yn is joining us in a couple of weeks. she's moved from bayern to barca, a german international."

"thankyou frido, for the introduction. and yes i can speak spanish."

it was a great way to meet some of the team before my first training with them in two weeks.

the time went by quickly from when i first arrived in barca and then officially starting at the club, but i was excited to see the girls again and meet the rest of them. i walked down to the grounds and met frido out the front.

we walked to the changing rooms where i dropped my bag off and grabbed my cleats. then we walked out to field and over to the covered gym they had. the coach, jonatan met us there and introduced himself, before announcing to the whole team who i was and that i was joining the team.

mapi and alexia came up to us and welcomed me back, mapi practically bounced her way over and gave me a hug while ale was more relaxed.

we got straight into gym then finishing with some mini games between the players.

——

it had been a week since i was at barca, i was settling in nicely and really enjoying my time here. all the girls were lovely but i was especially close with frido, because we knew each other previously, and mapi, who had become very close over the time i'd been there.

we had a 'team bonding' event tonight as lucy liked to call it. her and kie were hosting it at their place and it was basically a night were the whole team comes and spends time together doing anything and everything.

mapi had offered to pick me up and i gladly accepted, becoming quite fond of the short spanish woman.

it was now the evening and i had grabbed my pre packed bag and phone and rushed downstairs and out the door to where mapi was waiting in her car.

lucy informed me that most girls left before it got too late but i was welcome to stay the night if i wanted to, so my bag was fully prepared if i did stay the night. i joined mapi in her car and she drove us to lucy and kies house.

almost the whole team was already there when we arrived, some turned up early to help lucy and kie prepare for twenty-two 'kids' running around their house.

"hola chicas!" (hello girls!) mapi burst through the door with me right behind her. she was always full of energy and i loved it. the team matched her energy and cheered when she made her entrance.

it was such a great vibe for the evening, with lucy and kie already ordering a bunch of food that we could eat for dinner. there was a list of movies that we voted on and ended up putting on some random disney movie.

by the time the movie was nearing the end which was only a couple of hours later, some of the girls were packing up their things to leave and go to their own homes. however me and mapi were still on a couch in the living room.

at some point in the film i'd gotten a bit tired and cuddled into mapi. i think the spanish woman had a heart attack because she didn't move for a bit, until i looked at her and smiled.

we spent the rest of the movie like that, cuddled into each other.

lucy and kie had retired to their own room, leaving the rest of the girls who were staying to make themselves comfortable. mapi and i stayed on the couch along with ona who was fast asleep. i think i had gotten real tired right at the end and shut my eyes for a bit.

i hadn't fully fallen asleep yet and could still hear things, it was more of a lucid dream state.

however my acting must have fooled mapi because she brushed my hair out of my eyes and slightly caressed my face. i made no move to stop

her as she spoke soft spanish to my 'sleeping' form.

"god you look so pretty, mi corazón." (my heart)

i heard her, loud and clear, although they were the last words i'd hear for the night. i fell asleep then and didn't remember much else.

——

lucy dropped me back home the next morning, since mapi was still asleep. i didn't want to wake her and lucy was already up so i left mapi a note and grabbed my stuff. once i was home, the only words flowing through my mind being mapi's words from last night.

it made me think of how close we had become during the time i'd been with the club, which was not a lot. however mapi made it seem like we'd easily known each other for years. i admired the shorter spanish woman and i knew that what we had was slowly changing from friends to something more.

i walked down to training the next day, fully prepared to talk to mapi.

after everyone had gone through training, i pulled mapi over, asking if she wanted to go out for coffee. she agreed and volunteered her car, simply because i didn't have one yet.

we were at a little cafe in the city, just sipping on our drinks when i decided i'd stalled for long enough.

"so, did i look pretty while i slept at lucy's, mi corazón?" (my heart)

my eyes were trained on her face the entire time, not wanting to miss her reaction. she immediately looked to me, eyes slightly widened and a somewhat shocked expression on her face.

"you thought i was asleep, didn't you?" i was now fully grinning with a mischievous glint in my eye.

"i can explain." she seemed extremely nervous, although she had no reason to be. i wasn't mad or angry or upset, i just thought it was funny how this turned out.

"yn, ilikeyoumorethanfriends." she rushed it out, although i had an idea of what she said.

"slow down, maria, i don't speak gibberish." she blushed when i said her first name.

"i like you more than friends, yn."

"much better."

mapi didn't respond, only sat looking at me for a bit longer.

"that's it? you're not saying anything?" she almost looked offended, like it was criminal not to like her back.

"well maria, you're in luck. i like you more than friends too."

[useless-catalanfacts]

Frequently Asked Questions

This post answers the following questions:

Who are the Catalans? Where are they?

Which are the Catalan Countries? (each Catalan country)

Where can I learn the Catalan language? (free online resources and where to find classes)

What social media accounts can I follow that post in Catalan?

Other Tumblr blogs similar to this one but for other cultures of the world.

If your question isn't answered here, you're more than welcome to send me an ask!

1. Who are the Catalans? Where are they?

Catalan people are a cultural group who come from the area known as the Catalan Countries. We speak the Catalan language (a language that descends from Latin) and have a distinct culture (cuisine, traditions, holidays, dances, music, literature, etc) and history since the Middle Ages.

Our nation is the Catalan Countries, located in the coast of the Mediterranean sea, in South-Western Europe.

As a result of past wars and invasions, most of the Catalan Countries are under Spanish rule and a part of it is under French rule (+1 city in Italy). In fact, Spain and France have harshly persecuted, illegalized and tried to exterminate the Catalan language and culture for a long time, well into the 20th century. But Catalan people have survived the ethnocide and we still exist, even though we continue to face discrimination and there are some settings where it's still not legal to speak Catalan (for example, public schools in the French-controlled part, or European Union ambits, among some others).

There is also Catalan diaspora around the world.

We are not a closed culture, we are very open to foreigners learning our language and culture, and the Catalan diaspora often organizes celebrations for our holidays or groups to do traditional activities (most famously the castellers, aka human towers) that everyone can join.

2. Which are the Catalan Countries?

We say the Catalan Countries in plural because it's made of different areas for historical reasons. The Catalan Countries are all the areas where Catalan is the native language, which have historically been part of a whole, and which share a common culture (with local variants, of course). Here they are:

From North to South:

Northern Catalonia. Capital city: Perpinyà. It's under French administration (part of the region Occitanie in the new French regions system, used to be Languedoc-Roussillon in the old one).

Andorra. Capital city: Andorra la Vella. It's an independent microstate.

Catalonia. Capital city: Barcelona. It's under Spanish administration (it's the Catalonia region in the Spanish regions system).

Eastern Strip, also called Aragon Strip. It's under Spanish administration (it's part of the region of Aragon in the Spanish regions system).

Balearic Islands, including Mallorca, Menorca, Eivissa (in English also known as Ibiza) and Formentera. Capital city: Palma. Under Spanish administration (Balearics region in the Spanish regions system).

Valencian Country. Capital city: València. Under Spanish administration (called Valencian Community in the Spanish regions system).

El Carxe. Tiny rural area. Under Spanish administration (part of the Region of Murcia in the Spanish regions system).

L'Alguer. One city in the island of Sardinia. Under Italian administration (part of the region of Sardinia in the Italian regions system).

3. Where can I learn the Catalan language?

We are thrilled that you want to learn our language. Catalan people love it when others learn our language. Here I'll link you to classes and free online resources.

If you want face-to-face classes outside of the Catalan Countries, you can check this website to find if there's a university that offers Catalan classes near you. There are 101 around Europe, 25 in North America and Cuba, 5 in Asia, and 4 in South America. Students from these courses can also participate in language stays and internships in the Catalan Countries.

If you're already in the Catalan Countries, you will easily find courses for foreigners which the government offers for free or for a cheap price (depending on the level and each person's economic situation). Check out your local CPNL (Consorci per la Normalització Lingüística).

If you want to learn independently on the internet, there are two resources I recommend the most, both are available online for free.

One is the book "Life in Catalonia. Learn Catalan from..." that you can find in various languages. Here I add the link to the official government page where you can legally download the PDFs for free, you only have to scroll down and click under where it says "text complet". You can find the book Learn Catalan from English, from Spanish, from Arabic, from Tamazight, from French, from Hindi, from Urdu, from Punjabi, from Romanian, from Russian, and from Chinese.

The other resource I recommend the most is the online course Parla.cat. It has different levels for beginners or advanced learners. You have to create an account (it asks for an official document number, don't worry about it, it's not a sketchy site, it's because it's an official course paid by the government of Catalonia and if you immigrated to Catalonia having taken this course would officially count as a language course and can give you some benefits). You can either use it for free (all the learning material is available in the free version) or you can use the paying version. In the paid version, you will get assigned a language teacher from Catalonia who can help you and correct you.

There are many more resources. You can find more free resources in this post, this post, or in this link.

Here you have some recommendations to start practising. And remember that you can watch Catalonia's public TV streaming service 3Cat for free from anywhere in the world!

4. I want to follow social media accounts that post in Catalan. Can you tell me some?

Of course! According to the WWW Consortium, Catalan is the 35th most used language on the Internet, out of the more than 7,000 languages in the world.

Here's some lists with recommendations by topic:

Anime and manga

Cooking

Travel accounts

Videogames

More lists will be coming soon

Fashion and lifestyle

Folk culture

If your question wasn't answered, you can send me a question clicking here. 🙂 You can also browse this blog by topics here.

5. Can you recommend other blogs like this one but for other cultures of the world?

Yes, I made a list of recommendations in this post.

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 4 July 1913, Black Spanish civil war fighter, Holocaust survivor and electrician Carlos Greykey was born to parents from the then-Spanish colony of Equatorial Guinea. His birth name was José Carlos Gray Molay, and he later was given the warrior name "Greykey". His parents moved to Barcelona, and his mother worked as a cleaner, and despite his poor working class background, Greykey was able to attend medical school. His studies were disrupted by the right-wing military coup of general Francisco Franco, and he soon volunteered to fight in the civil war on the Republican side. With Franco's victory, Greykey was forced into exile in France, like tens of thousands of other Republicans. And like many other Spanish refugees, he later joined the French resistance to Nazi occupation. He was eventually captured by the Nazis on the Rhine front and sent to the Mauthausen concentration camp. There, he was assigned the red triangle of political prisoners. Greykey's language skills, which included the ability to speak English, French, German, Spanish and Catalan, as well as the curiosity of the Nazis, led to him being appointed as a personal assistant to senior German officers. The Nazis then dressed Greykey in an old Yugoslav army uniform to give him the appearance of a bellhop. Greykey remained close with his fellow Spanish detainees, and with them took part in a rebellion in the camp shortly before its liberation by US troops. Upon his release, Greykey was unable to return to Spain, as the Franco regime was still in power. So he returned to France, living in Paris and working as an electrician. In his later years, Greykey again became active in opposing the brutal dictatorship in Equatorial Guinea of Francisco Macías Nguema, a former official under Spanish colonial rule. He remained a supporter of the establishment of democracy in the country until his death in 1982. Learn more about the Spanish civil war in our podcast episodes 39-40: https://workingclasshistory.com/podcast/e39-the-spanish-civil-war-an-introduction/ https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=655755199931032&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

[holyblonded]

KENZA CREOXELLS

Kenza Esperança Creoxells (born August 13, 2003) is an American soccer player who plays for the Yale Bulldogs as well as the United States women's national soccer team. When she was younger she played for the Barcelona Femení youth team. She's currently plays for as a forward for the Liga F club Barcelona since she was 14 and 291 days old. She is the most recent winner of the Golden Girl Award and the Kopa Feminin Award.

𝗞𝗲𝗻𝘇𝗮 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗼𝘅𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘀

Full Name: Kenza Esperança St. Clair i Creoxells

Date of Birth: August 13, 2003 (age 20)

Place of Birth: Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain 

Height: 5'8"

Education: The Benjamin Franklin International School (graduated)

Yale University (currently)

Postion(s):           Forward

Current Team: No.3 - Barcelona

No.3 - Yale Bulldogs

International Team: United States

Awards: Full List

𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Kenza Esperança Creoxells, known in the soccer world as "Golden Girl" or "The King" alternately "King Kenza", was born August 13, 2004 to Akoni St. Clair and Nor Creoxells in Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain. Her father is a retired NBA player who is known for his phenomenal rebounding skills. She two younger siblings, Khai and Kyro that don't have many current media appearances.

Creoxells has been playing soccer since she was merely two years old, but even back then she had a talent for it. Her talent was first seen by her father who encouraged her to keep playing and be "the best soccer player you can be." Creoxells’ parent divorced when she was merely 5 years old. She spends the school year with her mom in DC and her school breaks she spend it with her dad either in his usual residence in Minnesota.

When she was in Washington DC, she befriended Azzi Fudd. In Minnesota, she made many friends like Paige Bueckers and Jalen Suggs who both attended her father's basketball camps. In Barcelona, she befriended Leonkinda, a Greek aristocrat, as well as Pedri and Gavi, both fellow La Masia graduate.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

Her mother is Spanish supermodel, Nor Creoxells. She is very close to her mother and as a child, Creoxells was always spotted at the runway shows supporting her mom. Her mom speaks to her children strictly in Spanish and Catalan when they were growing up making that Creoxells first language. When Creoxells was ten, her mother got remarried to American basketball legend, Diana Taurasi.

Diana Taurasi came into Creoxells’ life when she was seven years old, and the two have been quite close. Creoxells has been pictured many times throughout her life at a basketball game and Taurasi has been photographed arguing with little league refs. The most iconic moment was at the 2012 London Olympics, when Taurasi gave her gold medal to nine year old Kenza, hard launching her relationship to Nor Creoxells. St. Clair has said, "she [Taurasi] has been an important figure in my life and to my career. She truly stepped up into a parent role like it was nothing. I owe everything to her."

NBA Legend, Akoni St. Clair is her father and at a  young age, Creoxells said he 100% encouraged her soccer career. Creoxells credits her dad with her success in soccer even though the two aren't that close. In fact, after her parents divorced, Creoxells didn't see her dad for two years due to his excessive partying. When Creoxells was 14, Akoni relinquished his parental rights for reasons unknown to the media. Since then, Kenza either has Creoxells or occasionally Taurasi on her jersey.

The five year old twin boys, Khai and Kyro, are often kept out of the spotlight, but Creoxells does seem to adore them. The twins were born through IVF that Nor carried. Anytime the two are brought up on an interview, there's a burst of excitement.

Creoxells has had numerous brief flings with fellow La Masia alum, Alejandro Balde. The two were spotted on the streets of Barcelona kissing  various times throughout their teen years. Though there is no confirmation of the relationship, the two seem to be great friends now. Giovanna Ramos is Creoxells’ recent fling as the two were pictured kissing outside of a club.  Although neither parties have confirmed nor denied the rumors.

Creoxells’ reoccurring relationship rumor is with Paige Bueckers. The two have known each other since childhood and are often seen around UConn and Yale campuses together. While both deny the rumors, witnesses say they often flirt with each other in public.

CAREER

When Creoxells was about 8 years old, she earned the opportunity to train at La Masia. After Creoxells and her father begged her mother, she was allowed to go and stayed with her mom's childhood friend, Alexia Putellas. Putellas quickly became another mother to her , watching her grow up and eventually join her on the pitch. Creoxells said, "La Masia taught me major discipline and how truly gifted I was at the sport (soccer). It also gave me the opportunity to build my skill set and knowledge in football. It also gave me the opportunity to build these relationships at Barca, I don't know what I would be doing without my team."

Creoxells has a very interesting style on playing. She has a keen eye and is able to spot spaces and gaps to squeeze herself through. Her elite ball control, speed, ambidexterity, and spatial awareness make her a dangerous player to go against. The way Creoxells even envisions a field is different from most players and seems to give her some sort of upper hand. In her entire carrer, Creoxells has never missed a penalty kick.

At 14 years old, Creoxells was offered a spot on the Barca Femení professional team. She accepted and played there ever since. Her debut game she scored a goal and a hatrick against Chelsea FC, but what made her memorable was her constant confused looks when she scored. At Barca, she earned the nickname, Bebita and Princesa, from her teammates. This nickname is not only due to her age but her naps that she took during any sort of break. Creoxells even got caught napping during halftime at a game, curled up next to Ingrid Engen and Mapi Leon. The second nickname was earned because of her judgmental glances during games and her lack of a poker face. For the Barcelona fans, they give her the nickname "Chica Dorada" aka Golden Girl. Her other nicknames like King Kenza came later on. Her newest nickname and a fan favorite is "La Artillero" meaning the gunner, poking fun at Arsenal who tried to take the prodigy many times but failed. The nickname also refers to her precision kicks into the goal.

After about two years of Creoxells playing on Barca and attending university, her grades slipped making Barca's manager Jonatan, decided to put St. Clair's spot on Barca is currently "on hold" as she furthers her education in college. Creoxells plans on graduating early so she can go back to play.

She currently plays for the USWNT but after they refused to raise her pay, Creoxells is in the process of switching teams. The USSF claim they are currently in negotiations with Creoxells’ management to dispute the situation. Not so long ago, the USSF faced a lawsuit against the women's team for equal pay. Creoxells made a statement saying, "They [USSF] are paying me less than what they said on a contract. It would take some serious groveling for me to stay on the team." She is currently eligible for the English (her mother) and Spanish (her mother) National Teams. As well as t

𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒

2x First-Team All-American

Gatorade Player of the Year (2022)

Hermann Trophy (2023)

Rookie of the Year (2021)

U.S Soccer Young Female Player of the Year Award (2022)

Golden Girl Award (2021, 2022, 2023)

2x NCAA Tournament College Cup

Primera División: 2020-21, 2021-22, 2022-23

UEFA Women's Champions League: 2020-21, 2021-22, 2022-23

Copa de la Reina: 2020-21, 2021-22, 2022-23

UEFA Women's Champions League Player of the Year (2022-23)

Kopa Féminin Award (2023)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Okay, I'm dumping my thoughts here on the national teams:

Spain—I feel like Spain is where McDreamy's heart could be. I say I could be because McDreamy is aware of enough about that? I mean, they like Barcelona, but what more? Do they feel a deep connection to their grandparents and maybe Spanish food?

England—obviously, there's no language barrier here, but it would be faster to integrate, become family, and have Lucy and Keira. I don't know if you have, but could you please shed more light on McDreamy's language levels?

Sweden—I think the Sweden bit is super funny, but I don't see this panning out. But it really does show the lengths that people (read as Alexia and Lucy) are willing to go to show how they value McDreamy. Where is the connection to the nationality? If that's something we're considering as a factor, which I am.

Would love to hear more thoughts you have! Or other anons.

-🤠 anon

So Mcdreamy isn't the smartest academics wise and she could never actually study a language in a school setting so her languages were picked up fairly passively because of her upbringing.

She's fluent in Spanish and English and Basque because her Mum is English and her dad and his family are from Basque Country in Spain. She's also fluent in Dutch because the first twelve years of her life was spent there. She's not as fluent in Swedish because she only speaks it with her maternal grandmother (who is Swedish and will only respond to her if she speaks Swedish to her) but she knows enough to live in Sweden permanently if she had to

The big contenders for her international team is Spain and England and they're fairly evenly drawn. She'd do well at either camp and everyone is frothing at the mouth for her to choose but she doesn't even realise that she's the one making the decision.

She always assumed her parents would decide for her because she's still a kid.

[cottoncandytrafficcones]

10 Cool Jewish Women from Modern Day! Part 3 Because Why Not

Ildiko Rejto, a Hungarian two-time Olympic and five-time World Champion foil fencer. Born in Budapest, she was born deaf and had scoliosis since she was a teenager. She represented Hungary in every Olympics from 1960 to 1976, winning several medals, and won the 1963 World Fencing Championships title and the 1962, 1967, and 1973 team World Championships titles. She was inducted into the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame.

Lihi Ben-David, an Israeli Paralympic goalball player who competed for Israel in the 2024 Paris Paralympics, where the Israel women's national goalball team won a silver medal. After completing Sherut Leumi, she studied physical education at Wingate Institute. She began playing goalball a age 11, and in 2015 scored the winning goal at the IBSA World Games.

Yael Arad, an Israeli judoka and the first Israeli to win an Olympic medal at the 1992 Summer Olympics in Barcelona. Recognized as one of Israel's most successful athletes, she was born in Tel Aviv to two journalists, and holds a BA in business administration from Reichman University. She began judo at age 8, and won her first international title at 17. She was chosen to light a torch at the 1993 Maccabiah Games, and has coached for Israel. Today, she serves as a member of the Marketing Commission and the Digital & Technology Commission at the International Olympic Committee. She was the first woman and first Olympic medalist to hold the position of President of the Olympic Committee, and has published an autobiography.

Kristin Eriko Posner, a Japanese American born in California to a Japanese mother and a Japanese-Hawaiian father. She taught English in Japan for two years, where she learned to cook Japanese food. A convert to Judaism, she is the founder of Nourish Co., a website inspiring multiethnic people and families through writing, recipes, and modern heirlooms.

Elena Kagan, an American lawyer serving as a justice on the Supreme Court of the United States since 2010. The descendent of Russian Jewish immigrants to America on both sides, she was born and raised in New York City. She has attended Princeton, graduating summa cum laude with a BA in history and also serving as an editorial chair of a student newspaper, as well as Worcester College, Oxford, graduating with a Master of Philosophy in politics, and Harvard Law School, graduating with a JD magna cum laude. She has worked as a law clerk, a junior associate, an assistant professor as Chicago Law School, and an Associate White House Counsel before becoming a Supreme Court Justice.

Liraz Charhi, an Iranian-Israeli actress, singer, and dancer. She began singing and performing at six, and made her debut as a stage actress at the Habima National Theatre. She was nominated for the Ophir Award for her role in Turn Left at the End of the World / Sof Ha'Olam Smola. She has since acted in French, Israeli, and American shows, and has released several singles and albums, one of which was sung in Persian.

Sabina Berman Goldberg, a Mexican writer and journalist born to Polish Jews. She was a member of Mexico's national youth tennis team, and studied Psychology and Mexican Literature at the Ibero-American University. A four time winner of the National Playwriting Award in Mexico and two time winner of the National Journalism Award, her work mainly deals with issues related to diversity. Her plays have been stages in several countries, and a novel of hers has been translated into 11 languages and published in over 33 countries. As a journalist, she writes for Revista Proceso and El Universal, and has written for Vanity Fair in Spanish.

Pnina Tamano-Shata, an Israeli lawyer, journalist, and politician, and the first Ethiopian-born woman to enter the Knesset, as well as the first Ethiopian-born minister after being appointed Minister of Immigrant Absorption. Born in Wuzaba, a village near Gondar, she is the granddaughter of a prominent spiritual leader of Ethiopian Jews. She and her family immigrated to Israel when she was three, during Operation Moses. In June of 2021, she was awarded the Magen Begin Prize for Israeli Leadership.

Ofir Ben Shitrit, an Israeli Orthodox singer who sings in Hebrew, English, Arabic, and Spanish. Born to religious Moroccan Jewish parents, she began songwriting at age 11. She has studied and received her BA in music from the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance. She has performed on The Voice Israel, facing backlash for singing in front of men, and finishing in second place. The Jewish Orthodox Feminist Alliance has saluted her as a key figure at the forefront of Orthodox feminism. She has performed with the Israeli Andalusian Orchestra and women's group Neshot Chava.

Esti Mamo, an Ethiopian-born Israeli model and actress. Born in Chilga, she moved to Israel at nine. As a teenager, she founded the dance group Mango. Since 2004, she has worked in Europe as a model, and has also acted in several Israeli productions. She is involved in philanthropic work.

[lifeofpriya]

Amor in Barcelona - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

summary: in a moment of impulsive passion, you and jack decide to tie the knot while you're in Barcelona...

You and Jack had been inseparable since your paths first crossed. Your shared love for adventure, the thrill of competition, and the quiet moments between games had grown into something unshakable. As you strolled the cobblestone streets of Barcelona, the vibrant city painted with the warm embrace of the setting sun, the air was ripe with excitement for the upcoming Barcelona Open. The scent of churros and the distant laughter of street performers wafted through the air, melding with the anticipation that hung around every corner.

Jack, with his unruly chestnut hair and intoxicating hazel eyes, looked over at you, his gaze a mix of mischief and something more profound. "You know what, love?" he said, his British accent a comforting lilt in the bustling Spanish night. "Let's do something crazy."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Like what?"

Jack's smile grew as he took your hand. "Let's get married."

You stared at him, heart racing. "Married? Tonight?"

Jack's eyes sparkled with a child-like excitement. "Why not? We're already here, in this magical city. Let's make it a night to remember, forever."

The gravity of his words didn't immediately sink in. You felt light, as if you had just swallowed a handful of helium balloons. The cobblestone street seemed to tilt under your feet, the laughter of the street performers echoing in your ears like a symphony of joy. You looked at him, this man who had captured your heart with his fierce determination on the tennis court and his gentle kindness off it, and you knew that nothing in the world could be more fitting than this.

With a nod, you agreed. "Alright, Jack. Let's do this. But first…we probably should get changed." You giggled, pointing at Jack's casual attire of one of his Nike t-shirts, gray shorts, and his beloved pair of Air Jordans.

Jack grinned. "Race you to the hotel!" He took off, pulling you along in a playful jog. You couldn't help but feel giddy, your heart fluttering with excitement.

At the hotel, you both dashed into your suite, which was a sanctuary of soft white linens and the faint scent of lavender. The large windows framed the twinkling lights of the city, casting a romantic glow over the room. You rummaged through your luggage, pulling out a simple yet elegant white outfit that you had packed for a fancy dinner—it was simple yet elegant, perfect for the occasion.

Jack grabbed a crisp white button-up shirt from his suitcase and a pair of black trousers, a stark contrast to his usual sportswear. The transformation from tennis star to groom-to-be was amusing to watch, his muscular arms flexing as he tugged on the sleeves, the fabric stretching to accommodate the powerful build honed from countless hours on the court. You couldn't help but admire him, your heart swelling with love and excitement.

"Ready?" he asked, a hint of nervousness in his smile.

You nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement rush through you. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Wait, we need rings," you said, a sudden thought popping into your head as you took in the reality of what you two were about to embark on.

Jack paused, his hands hovering over the buttons of his shirt. "Rings? Right." He chuckled, his nervousness dissipating slightly. "Fancy a bit of shopping?"

You nodded eagerly, and the two of you dashed out into the night, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth of the suite. The streets of Barcelona were alive with vibrancy, the buildings cast in a soft orange glow from the street lamps. The sounds of the city swirled around you, a symphony of languages and laughter.

Jack led the way to a quaint little jewelry store nestled between a tapas bar and a flamenco dance school. The bell above the door jingled merrily as you stepped inside. The proprietor, a man with a handlebar mustache, looked up from his workbench, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you both dressed in your wedding-ready attire.

"Buena noche," he greeted warmly. "Looking for something special?"

Jack nodded, his eyes shimmering with excitement. "Yes, we're getting married tonight, and we need rings."

The proprietor's eyebrows shot up. "Ah, que romantico!" He waved his hands dramatically. "Follow me."

He led you to a display case filled with rings, each one more exquisite than the last. You felt a bit overwhelmed, but Jack's hand in yours was steady and reassuring. His thumb traced circles on your palm, and you focused on that as you both peered into the glass.

"These," you said suddenly, pointing to a pair of simple, yet elegant platinum bands. They were adorned with a single diamond each, the stones twinkling like the stars outside.

Jack looked at you, then at the rings, and nodded in agreement. "Perfect."

The proprietor, with a knowing smile, pulled out the rings and wrapped them in a velvet box. "Allow me to engrave something for you," he offered. "A memory of this magical night in Barcelona."

Jack looked at you, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. He leaned in close, whispering, "To us, forever," in your ear. You nodded, and the proprietor took the rings, his skilled hands etching the words into the metal.

As you waited, you both took in the sights and sounds of the bustling street outside. The rhythmic clapping of flamenco dancers' hands, the sizzle of paella pans, and the hum of conversations in various languages filled the air. You couldn't believe this was happening—you were about to marry the love of your life in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, with no grand plan except the one that unfolded before you.

The proprietor returned with the rings, now etched with your heartfelt message. You exchanged glances with Jack, and in that moment, everything felt incredibly real. "Would you happen to know where we can find a place to get married?" you asked the man, hopeful.

The proprietor's smile grew wider. "But of course! There's a small, charming civil registry office not too far from here. It's open late for tourists and those seeking a spontaneous union," he said with a wink.

Jack squeezed your hand. "Let's go. Wait, let me pay for these," he said, reaching for his wallet.

The proprietor, understanding the urgency of the moment, waved him off. "Consider it a wedding gift," he said with a warm smile.

Jack looked surprised but grateful. "Thank you," he murmured, his grip on your hand tightening.

You both stepped out into the night, the air a warm caress against your skin. The streets of Barcelona had transformed into a serendipitous maze of love and possibility, each twist and turn seemingly designed to lead you to this exact moment. The cobblestones whispered secrets of love and passion beneath your feet as you hurried towards the civil registry office.

The office was a quaint building with ivy climbing up its ancient walls, the door a rich shade of burgundy that stood out against the soft, golden light spilling out into the street. Inside, the scent of aged paper and the quiet murmur of whispers filled the room.

Jack's hand was still in yours as you approached the counter, where a kind-looking woman in a sensible yet stylish outfit looked up at you. She had a knowing smile on her lips as she asked in English, "May I help you?"

"Yes, please," you said, feeling a bit shy. "We'd like to get married tonight."

The woman's smile grew. "Ah, a love as sudden and fiery as the flamenco dancers in the streets. How wonderful!" She pulled out a few forms, her pen poised and ready. "Just a few details to take care of."

The process was surprisingly swift, the woman's efficient hands moving through the paperwork with a grace that matched the dancers' steps. You glanced at Jack, his eyes shining with excitement, and felt your own heart race. Was this really happening?

Once the paperwork was done, you both stepped into a small, cozy room adorned with bouquets of fresh flowers and candles flickering in the gentle evening breeze that wafted through the open window. A man in a black suit, the judge, smiled warmly at you. "Young love," he said in a thick Catalan accent. "Let's make this official."

Jack looked into your eyes, the gravity of the situation sinking in. You took a deep breath, feeling the cool metal of the ring against your palm. The room was filled with the quiet whispers of anticipation, the candlelight casting shadows that danced upon the walls like silent witnesses to your union.

The judge, a man with a gentle demeanor, began to speak in a blend of Catalan and English, his words a melodic incantation of love and commitment. You didn't understand every word, but the meaning was clear—this was a pledge of forever.

Jack's hand trembled slightly as he took your hand in his, the warmth of his touch a beacon of comfort. The room seemed to shrink around you, the candles casting a soft, intimate glow that made you feel as if you were the only two people in the world.

The judge spoke, his words a gentle serenade in a language that was as foreign as the concept of marrying in such haste felt. Yet, as he translated each line into English, you found yourself nodding along, the words resonating deep within your soul.

Jack slipped the ring onto your finger, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch. It was a perfect fit, just like the way he fit into your life. "To us, forever," he murmured, echoing the engraving.

You took his hand and did the same, feeling the weight of the moment as you slid the ring over his knuckle. "To us, forever," you whispered back, your voice shaking with emotion.

The judge pronounced you married, and Jack leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, a promise of all the days and nights to come. The candles flickered, casting shadows that danced around the room, as if celebrating the love that had just been sealed.

As you pulled away, laughing and crying, the judge handed you a marriage certificate with a flourish. "Felicitacions!" he exclaimed.

Jack picked you up in his arms, spinning you around, and you couldn't help but feel like you were floating, the world around you a whirl of candlelight and love. You set your feet back on the ground, a little wobbly but filled with an unshakable certainty.

You stepped out of the civil registry office, hand in hand, the warm air of Barcelona enveloping you like a soft blanket. The night was still young, and the city's pulse thrummed around you. The cobblestone streets glittered with the reflections of street lamps, and the air was filled with the distant strums of a guitar.

"Jack, I can't believe we just got married!" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of wonder and laughter.

Jack leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Believe it, love. We're married now." His words sent a shiver of excitement down your spine.

You both turned to face each other, the weight of the rings on your fingers a constant reminder of the vows you had just exchanged. The sounds of the city had grown louder, the music more vibrant, as if the very essence of Barcelona was celebrating with you.

"What now?" you asked, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Jack looked around, taking in the vibrant energy of the city. "Now, we celebrate!"

Without another word, he led you down a narrow alleyway, the walls adorned with vivid street art that whispered tales of love and passion. The alley opened up to a small, dimly lit square where a group of musicians played a lively tune, their instruments casting a mesmerizing melody that danced in the air. The square was filled with locals and tourists alike, all caught in the infectious rhythm of the music.

Jack spun you around, your laughter mingling with the strums of the guitar and the beat of the drums. "Dance with me," he said, pulling you closer.

You stepped into the rhythm, the cobblestone square becoming your dance floor. The music was a fusion of flamenco and something else, something that felt ancient and new all at once. Your bodies moved together, perfectly in sync, as if you had been dancing this dance for a lifetime.

Jack's arms were strong around your waist, guiding you through the passionate steps. Your hands roamed over his shoulders, feeling the muscles that had brought him victory on so many tennis courts. The warmth of his skin, the scent of his cologne, the way his eyes never left yours—everything about him was familiar yet thrillingly new in this unexpected moment of matrimony.

The music grew wilder, the dancers' stomps echoing through the square. The crowd clapped in time, their energy fueling your own. You felt like you could dance forever, lost in the rhythm of the night. But as the song reached its crescendo, Jack leaned in and whispered, "Let's find someplace quieter, love."

You nodded, your heart racing with excitement. He guided you through the maze of streets, the moon casting a silvery glow over the ancient buildings. The laughter and music of the city faded into the background as you found yourself in a secluded garden, a hidden gem nestled between the urban sprawl.

Jack's eyes searched yours, full of love and hope. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice low and earnest.

You nodded, your own eyes brimming with tears. "It's more than okay. It's perfect."

The garden was a tranquil oasis; the moon shone down, casting long shadows from the gnarled olive trees that dotted the space. A small, babbling fountain at the center added a soothing soundtrack to the quiet whispers of the night. You stepped closer to Jack, the crunch of gravel underfoot the only noise in the otherwise stillness.

Jack's arms wrapped around you, his warmth seeping into your bones as he kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. Each press of his lips felt like a promise, a vow of love and loyalty. Your fingers intertwined with his, the platinum band a silent testament to the words you had spoken just moments ago.

You both sat down on a bench by the fountain, the cool stone a welcome relief from the warmth of the day that still lingered in the air. The water danced and shimmered under the moonlight, creating a tranquil scene that mirrored the calm in your hearts.

Jack leaned in, his gaze soft and loving. "I know this isn't how we thought we'd get married," he began, "but somehow, it feels more right than anything I could've imagined."

You nodded, your heart fluttering like a butterfly in your chest. "It's perfect, Jack. Just like us."

Jack's smile grew, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice thick with emotion. "It's perfect."

You both sat in the quiet, the gentle burble of the fountain the only sound in the garden. The coolness of the stone bench seeped through your clothes, grounding you in the reality of this whimsical night. You looked at the ring on your finger, the single diamond glinting in the moonlight. It was a simple band, but it held a world of meaning.

Jack took your hand, turning it over to trace the delicate veins that webbed across your palm. "I love you," he said, his voice a whisper in the stillness.

You looked at him, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I love you too, Jack."

Jack's thumb brushed against the ring, the metal cool against your skin. "Do you think we're mad? For doing this so spontaneously?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Maybe a little. But isn't that the best kind of madness?" You leaned into his embrace, the warmth of his body a comforting cocoon in the cool night air. "This is our fairy tale, Jack. We don't need grand ballrooms or elaborate ceremonies to make it real."

Jack's grip tightened around you, his eyes searching yours. "You're right," he murmured. "As long as we have each other, everything else is just details."

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your ear. The garden was a sanctuary of peace, the scent of lavender filling the air. The coolness of the night was a balm to your flushed cheeks, and the soft rustle of leaves was the only music you needed.

Jack took a deep breath, his chest expanding against you. "I can't believe we're actually married."

You laughed, a sound that was both nervous and filled with pure delight. "I know. It's crazy, isn't it?"

Jack nodded, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "But the best kind of crazy."

You leaned up to kiss him, your hearts beating in harmony. "The very best."

The night grew darker, but the garden remained bathed in the soft luminescence of the moon. As you both sat there, wrapped in the quiet embrace of the night, the reality of your impromptu marriage began to set in. It wasn't a grand affair with hundreds of guests, nor was it something you had planned for years. It was raw, it was real, and it was entirely yours.

Jack's hand found its way to yours, the platinum band a symbol of the vows you'd just exchanged. "We should probably tell someone," he said, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet.

You giggled. "Yeah, but that can wait," you said, feeling a bit rebellious. You didn't want to let the bubble of magic surrounding you two to pop just yet. Instead, you suggested, "Let's just enjoy this moment, Jack. We have all the time in the world to tell everyone else."

Jack nodded, a content smile playing on his lips. He leaned in, his nose nuzzling yours. "I like the sound of that, love."

You both sat there, the cool breeze playing with the ends of your hair, as you watched the moon climb higher in the sky. The occasional distant laughter or clinking of glasses from nearby cafes reminded you of the life that went on beyond the walls of your secret garden, but in this moment, the world was reduced to just the two of you.